Then. Now. Always.

by Isabelle Broom

  ‘I don’t mind,’ Elaine assures me. ‘I never had a sister – or a dad, for that matter – so I’m not sure how much help I can be.’

  ‘You’re lucky,’ I mutter. ‘Honestly, sometimes I think I would be better off if it was just mum and me. If my dad had simply left and moved to the other side of the world or something. Eventually we would have lost touch, and I wouldn’t have to deal with Nancy, and be reminded every time I see her that my dad chose her mum over mine.’

  ‘It must be hard,’ Elaine says, but she’s frowning as if she doesn’t really believe it.

  ‘You think I’m overreacting,’ I say, embarrassed. ‘Sorry, I really will stop going on about it now.’

  ‘Don’t ever be sorry,’ Elaine touches my arm. ‘I think we’re friends now, aren’t we?’

  I nod. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well then, as your friend I’m always here if you need to talk – and I won’t ever judge you, I promise you that.’

  ‘Thank you.’ I feel ridiculously like I might start crying.

  ‘You can’t choose your family,’ she adds. ‘And I’m even worse than your dad, in a way, because I really did leave and not go back. I used to tell myself that my mother would have been relieved to see the back of me, but I feel differently now – now that it’s too late.’

  ‘Too late for …’ I begin, but at that moment the camera starts to beep.

  ‘Oh bugger,’ I swear, getting up from my seat. ‘The battery’s about to run out. Hang on.’

  A quick search of the bag, however, reveals no cable.

  ‘I must have left the charger plugged in at the apartment,’ I groan, again humiliated. ‘I’m so sorry. First I start blabbering on about my own problems and now this. You must think I’m awful.’

  Elaine stands up and pats me on the back. ‘I assure you, I think nothing of the sort,’ she says, heading into the kitchen. ‘We can finish the interview another time. But first, will you have some breakfast with me?’

  I can already see the fresh bread, cheese and tomato piled up on the worktop, and my stomach rumbles in anticipation. It’s been ages since I last ate anything, and I have had quite the workout in the past twelve hours. Plus, the way I’m feeling towards Claudette and Nancy at the moment, I’ll use any excuse not to have to spend time with them.

  Picking up the postcard with the two rainbows and slipping it back into my bag, I walk across to the kitchen and join my new friend.

  25

  In my haste to get away from Claudette’s judgemental scrutiny in the apartment this morning, I forgot to pick up my copy of the schedule, so as soon as Elaine closes her front door behind me, I take out my phone and text Tom, asking him where they all are.

  Instead of replying, he calls.

  ‘Hey,’ I say. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘At mine,’ he says. ‘Theo and Claudette have gone to record some voiceover stuff at the villa.’

  ‘Oh,’ I reply, the news halting me in my tracks. I watch as a bird comes to land on a nearby balcony, its head turned towards the sun. It’s silly to feel jealous, but that doesn’t stop it happening.

  ‘What are you up to?’ he asks.

  I shuffle my feet in the dust. ‘Nothing much.’

  ‘Meet me up in the village,’ he says, and hangs up before I have a chance to respond.

  I find him sitting on a bench in the Plaza Nueva, the light shining through the branches of a nearby tree dappling his face with colour. There’s a few days’ worth of stubble decorating his jaw, and his hair has been bleached a shade lighter by the sun. He watches me as I approach, a smile lifting one side of his mouth and that Tom kindness which I know so well lighting up his eyes.

  ‘You look tired,’ he says, as I come into range.

  ‘Late night,’ I reply, remembering a fraction too late that I lied to him. ‘I mean, I didn’t sleep all that well, you know, being on the sofa.’

  Tom sighs. ‘I know you weren’t at the apartment,’ he tells me. ‘Claudette called me at about seven this morning demanding to speak to you.’

  ‘Sorry about that.’ I brave a look at him as I sit down on the bench. The dress I’m wearing is white, and I like the way the skirt looks against my tanned thighs. The breeze is soft today, like a murmur, and I slip my flip-flops off and stretch my feet out in front of me.

  ‘And sorry for lying, too. Twice.’

  ‘It’s okay.’ Tom pokes me in the arm. ‘I forgive you.’

  Unlike Claudette, he doesn’t ask where I was or who I was with. Probably because he knows me well enough to recognise when there’s something on the tip of my tongue. When we first met each other all those years ago at university, Tom and I were almost immediately the sort of friends who could finish each other’s sentences, and a large amount of our chatter consisted of shared laughs or private jokes. I can remember so well the first time I introduced Tom to Rachel, and how astounded she was by just how similar the two of us were. A lesser friend would have been jealous of that closeness, but Rachel was just happy that I’d found someone I could be myself with.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t fancy him?’ she’d practically pleaded, but I’d simply laughed the suggestion away.

  ‘Tom,’ I say now, staring at the cobbled ground rather than him. ‘About Nancy …’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘She’s just broken up with someone.’

  ‘I know that,’ he says. ‘She told us, that first night in the bar.’

  ‘Well, I just mean …’ I stop, searching for words that won’t make me sound bossy or condescending.

  ‘You mean she’s not looking for a boyfriend,’ Tom says.

  ‘I don’t know if she is or not,’ I admit. ‘I’m not sure if she knows what she wants.’

  He nods at this, his expression grave.

  ‘Do you know where she is now?’ he asks, and I picture Nancy as she was this morning, wrapped around Ignacio on the sofa.

  ‘Probably resting,’ I say, as breezily as I can. ‘She was feeling ill, remember?’

  Now I’m lying to Tom again. This is what Nancy makes me do.

  ‘Probably,’ Tom agrees, but his eyes are sad now. As much as I hate the idea of him and my half-sister together, I can’t help but feel sorry for him. I know how it feels to crave a person and not be able to have them. Even before Theo, I’ve had a lifetime of that with my dad, and a good few years of Diego infatuation thrown in for good measure. The fact that I’ve somehow managed to ensnare Theo after all this time is as astounding to me as it is brilliant, but it’s still so precarious. I don’t even know if anything will ever happen again.

  ‘I slept with Theo,’ I blurt out, swinging my legs aggressively in an attempt to mask my humiliation, as Tom exclaims in shock.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Last night. That’s where I was. That’s why I didn’t meet you.’

  ‘Bloody hell!’ I can’t tell whether he is impressed or disgusted. The expression on his face is not one I’ve ever seen before.

  ‘I know,’ I say, wincing as I turn to face him. ‘It’s mental, isn’t it?’

  ‘Definitely,’ Tom agrees, standing up off the bench and pacing in a small circle. ‘How did it …? How did you …?’

  ‘It just happened,’ I mutter, standing up and reaching for him so he has no choice but to stand still. ‘I don’t know if it will again.’

  Tom is looking at me as if I’m a stranger, and I feel compelled to keep talking.

  ‘It’s not that mental,’ I point out. ‘I’m single, he’s single.’

  ‘But he’s old!’ Tom proclaims, and I narrow my eyes at him.

  ‘He’s barely even forty – hardly old.’

  ‘But he’s your boss!’ comes the reply. He’s peering at me now as if he’s worried about me, and I prickle with irritation.

  ‘It’s not going to affect work,’ I assure him. ‘I won’t let it.’

  ‘You say that now,’ Tom warns, running a hand through his stubble. ‘But what if you get hurt?’

  He�
��s doing it again, reading my mind and voicing the thoughts that I’ve been steadfastly ignoring.

  ‘I’m perfectly capable of dating a man I work with,’ I inform him, sitting back down on the bench and folding my arms. ‘Theo and I are both professionals.’

  ‘Not very professional to shag your employees,’ grumbles Tom, coming to sit beside me and then swerving to the side to avoid my punch.

  ‘Oi!’ he mutters. ‘Don’t hit me for looking out for you.’

  ‘I wanted it to happen,’ I tell him. ‘It’s what I’ve wanted for so long now that I can’t even remember a time that I didn’t. Why do you think I haven’t dated anyone in years?’

  Tom’s expression is still unreadable, but I watch his eyes flickering as he scans back over time, picturing the two of us in the London office with Theo, trying to remember if there were any signs that he missed. I can tell he wants to warn me off, but he manages to stay quiet, instead picking up one of my hands and squeezing it between his own.

  ‘Just promise me one thing,’ he says, looking right into my eyes.

  ‘Just one?’ I joke, but he shakes his head.

  ‘Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.’

  I chuckle at that and try to extract my hand.

  ‘We used protection, if that’s what you mean,’ I say, but he just looks sad again and squeezes my hand even tighter.

  ‘That’s not what I meant.’

  Thankfully, at that moment, the wind picks up an unanchored stack of napkins and blows them right into our faces, causing me to laugh and eventually Tom joins in. By the time we’ve picked them all up and deposited them in the nearest recycling bin, the mood between us has lifted. Tom shrugs off his concerns and changes the subject away from both Theo and Nancy, suggesting instead that we walk down to the beach and get some lunch.

  ‘I’ve got a better idea,’ I say, smiling as a plan comes into shape in my mind. ‘But it would mean hiring a car.’

  It takes Tom and me over an hour to reach the rugged Sierra Maria mountains, which are situated in the north of Almería, and it takes all my not-very-extensive map-reading capabilities to get us there at all. I insisted that the two of us change from flip-flops into trainers before we left Mojácar, and looking at the rugged terrain ahead, I’m very glad we did. I also had the foresight to swap my beautiful white dress for my faithful old denim shorts, and I yanked on a sleeveless T-shirt, too.

  Tom was mostly quiet on the drive, and we kept the radio on to fill the silence, occasionally singing along when a song came on that we recognised. I told him more about my progress with Elaine, and how I suspected that there was more to the story than she was prepared to share.

  ‘She’ll tell you,’ Tom was quick to assure me. ‘You’re a very good listener, you know. I don’t think you realise how good.’

  He was right; it wasn’t anything I’d ever considered before. But it comforted me to know that he believed in me, even if he was obviously worried about me hooking up with Theo.

  ‘How far away is this cave?’ Tom asks me now. We’ve parked up between the Vélez-Rubio and Vélez-Blanco areas of the park, and the Sierra Maimon mountain is looming above us, its jagged peak the darkest of browns against the impenetrable blue of the sky.

  ‘About half an hour,’ I say, wrinkling up my nose as I peer at the map we picked up from the kiosk by the park entrance. ‘It should be straight ahead of us, up that path.’

  ‘You mean up the side of that massive mountain?’ exclaims Tom, blanching beneath his tan.

  ‘What’s the matter, old man?’ I lean over to do some exaggerated stretches against the bonnet of the car only to burn both my hands on the hot metal.

  ‘Ouch!’

  ‘Idiot,’ deadpans Tom, but he’s smiling at least.

  We set off full of enthusiasm, but soon begin to flag. The path up the side of the mountain is not only incredibly steep, it’s also littered with loose gravel and crusty dead plants. The sun is relentless, too, and I’m very glad that I’m here with Tom and not Theo. There’s no way I’d want him to see me looking this sweaty and red-faced. Well, not unless I was out of breath for a very different reason.

  There doesn’t appear to be anyone else on the mountain today but the two of us, and it would feel almost eerie if it wasn’t so stunning. The view as we climb higher gets all the more impressive, with distant hilltops dancing in the throbbing heat and the emerald clusters of forests stretching far away to a horizon streaked navy by the sea. In contrast to the clean whites, pinks and blues of Mojácar, the palette here is made up from earthy browns, golds and greens, and I keep getting left behind because I’m stopping to take photos. Tom, who has brought his proper big camera along with him, has so far resisted the urge to capture the scene, and is steadfastly plodding up towards the cave like a man on a mission. It’s only when I catch him up that I see how much he’s struggling with the combination of the heat and the weight of his bag.

  ‘Here.’ I hand him my bottle of water. ‘Drink this before you keel over and I’m forced to carry you back down to the car.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he manages, unscrewing the top and glugging it down.

  I think he’s going to give up altogether when we reach a sign that cheerily informs us it’s another twenty minutes up to the entrance, but he grits his teeth and keeps going, and eventually we reach our destination.

  The Cueva de los Letreros – Cave of the Signs – doesn’t look like much from the outside, but as soon as Tom and I cross the threshold and enter the dark, musty interior, I can sense the buzz of energy in the air. I know from my research that historians believe the cave was used for rituals or ceremonies, but my interest is focused on something else: the symbol painted on the far wall.

  ‘Do you see it?’ I whisper, pointing past Tom to an assortment of dark red drawings. There are shapes that look like animals, and others that may be flames, but at the top there is the unmistakable figure of a man, his arms outstretched and a semi-circle connected to each of his hands: the Indalo Man.

  ‘I see it,’ he replies, and for a few minutes we simply stand in silence taking it in. Inside the cave, away from the pestering wind, the only sound comes from the two of us as we breathe, and I relish the silence. This moment feels important, and I know I won’t ever forget it.

  Tom begins to wriggle his bag off his back, keen to capture everything we’re seeing on camera, but I doubt that even he will be able to record this feeling. I don’t believe in real magic, but in here it feels possible. More than that, it feels probable. My eyes move across once again to the figure, the talisman that I’ve carried with me every day for the past ten years, the symbol that means so much to so many, and I’m assaulted by a wave of emotion.

  ‘I’ll be outside,’ I mutter through my unshed tears, turning away so rapidly that I stumble into Tom’s bag. He catches me, his hand hot and heavy on my arm.

  ‘Thank you,’ he says, his fingers trailing against mine as he lets me go.

  ‘What for?’ I ask, mystified.

  ‘For bringing me here.’

  I shrug and take a step backwards.

  ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘It’s a very special place,’ he adds, still looking at me as I reach the cave opening.

  ‘I know.’ I smile at him. ‘And I wouldn’t have wanted to be here with anyone else. I mean that.’

  And it’s true. I do.

  26

  ‘I can’t believe it’s only a week until we fly home.’

  Theo squints against the light as he smiles at me in sympathy. We’re sitting in his bed drinking strong black coffee, and as always the blinds are drawn so the sun can light up the room. He likes to be woken this way, as I have discovered.

  ‘I know,’ he says, moving his arm so I can nestle up against his shoulder. ‘But we have to finish editing the film. I am excited to package it together now, as I’m sure you are too?’

  ‘Of course.’ I wriggle my bottom and turn to face him, but he’s looking away in search of
his book. Since finding that battered paperback here in the villa, Theo’s barely put it down. This is the fifth time I’ve stayed over here now, and our secret is well and truly out. Since confessing all to Tom, I’ve stopped being so careful around Theo while we’re out filming, and it didn’t take Claudette long to notice. While she hasn’t actually come out and said anything, her scorn has felt almost palpable at times, and I’d be lying if I said she hadn’t hurt my feelings.

  I can tell that Tom still isn’t thrilled about the situation, either, but at least we’re back to being proper friends again. It’s been nice hanging out with him in the evenings while Theo is editing, even if he would rather be with Nancy. Whatever happened between those two is definitely over now, because my sister is spending all of her time with Ignacio. He’s over at the apartment pretty much every day now, along with Carlos, but I have no idea if he’s actually staying the night, because I’m always down here at the villa.

  ‘Shall I tell you another story?’ Theo asks now, and I agree happily. Being read to is such a nice thing, and I could listen to his voice all day.

  Theo clears his throat. ‘As you are aware, Mojácar has a Moorish history, and was once inhabited by Arabs.’

  ‘I do know that,’ I beam, but he hushes me.

  ‘During those times, and indeed until the beginning of this century, there was no such thing as dating in Mojácar. If you wanted to ask a girl out, there was a rather complicated way of going about it.’

  ‘Oh?’ I enquire, running my fingers through the nest of hair on his chest.

  ‘The old custom I’m talking about is called “club inside, club outside” – shall I tell you the Spanish?’

  ‘Go on, then, I might learn something.’

  Theo glances at me over the top of the book. ‘Cheeky,’ he says, but he’s smiling. ‘The translation is porra adentro, porra afuera, and it involved the entire family of a young couple. You see, the Arabs did not really believe in courtship, or even getting to know the person you would end up marrying. Instead, when a young man’s parents had selected the girl they thought would make a suitable match for their son, the father would walk up to her family’s house and bang loudly on the door with a club, before shouting “porra adentro – club inside”, and would then throw the club into the hallway.’