‘I suppose.’ He’s grumpy with me now, but I’m too tired and wobbly to appease him. In truth, I’m getting a bit fed up of him fussing around my sister as if she’s a complicated sculpture made out of playing cards.
Neither of us mention Claudette. I don’t because I’m too scared of Tom confirming my fears, and Tom is presumably too scared to be the one to confirm them. He doesn’t need to, though, because when we reach the square ten minutes later, everything becomes horribly, gut-wrenchingly clear.
29
‘The archway of the original Arabic door into the city was rebuilt in the sixteenth century, and it has remained unchanged ever since. Once upon a time, this was the spot at which visitors would be stopped by guards and asked to pay in order to enter, and the Mojácar village shield is still here on the brickwork above us.’ Claudette turns slightly and points upwards to where the gold and pale blue crest is clearly visible against the white stone. Below it, just above the curve of the arch, is a small wooden door giving on to a tiny balcony. In true Mojácar tradition, this narrow ledge is decorated with a sprawl of bougainvillea, the dark pink petals so bright that they appear almost artificial.
The scene is so perfect, so epic in terms of its history and important to the narrative of our story, but I can’t appreciate a single thing about it. I’m seething with unspent rage, my throat welded shut by the glue of unsaid words, and my body twitching with palpable unease.
Claudette stayed the night at the villa. She spent the night with Theo.
The most infuriating aspect of the entire situation is that neither of them seem to be remotely guilt-ridden. On the contrary, Claudette started moaning about the fact she was having to wear one of Theo’s shirts almost as soon as Tom and I arrived, while the man himself simply strolled over and kissed me on the cheek as if nothing was awry.
AS IF NOTHING WAS AWRY!
As we made our way through the Old Town streets to the archway, Tom kept glancing nervously at each of us in turn, as though waiting for something to erupt, but I’m damned if I’m going to say anything. I know Claudette well enough now to realise when she’s enjoying herself, and that’s exactly what she’s been doing all morning. She knows full well that I’m upset with her – with both her and Theo – and I can tell she’s going to do her best to tease me for the rest of the day. Well, she can try. I’m going to rise above it. I’m not going to make a fool of myself.
‘Hannah?’
From Theo’s tone of voice, I suspect it’s not the first time he’s tried to get my attention.
‘Yes?’
‘The script. Can you help Claudette, please?’
‘Of course.’ I smile sweetly at him and step forward, ignoring Claudette’s smarmy expression and waiting while she repeats the next few sentences back to me. It’s not like her to need this much help with her lines, so I can only assume she’s doing this on purpose to rile me. The next time it happens, I catch her unawares.
‘Your boyfriend was over this morning looking for you,’ I tell her, the smile never leaving my face. ‘He seemed very upset when I told him you weren’t in.’
Claudette narrows her eyes, but only loses her cool for a split second.
‘Poor little boy,’ she says dreamily. ‘I will cheer him up later, don’t you worry.’
I want to yell in her face that she’s a vile cowpat, but instead I smile back demurely.
In the end, thanks to Claudette stalling on her lines and tourists wandering into shot, it takes far longer than Theo had planned to get the archway scene finished, and he doesn’t let us stop for a proper lunch break. I’m not sure whether he’s ignoring me on purpose or whether he’s just totally caught up with the filming, but either way I don’t get to talk to him until much later that afternoon, when we’ve changed location and are down by La Fuente at a pop-up table-top sale. The owner of the jazz club where we filmed the other day tipped Theo off about this place, as it’s a favourite haunt for many of the ex-pats who have made Mojácar their home. I look around in the hope of seeing Elaine but there’s no sign of her, so instead I approach the customers browsing through the goods, striking up a conversation and then inviting them to talk a bit about Mojácar on camera. I love this part of my job the most, meeting new people and hearing their stories, and today more than ever it feels important to be able to lean on my job for support. I seem to be failing at other key aspects of my life at the moment, so it’s reassuring when these strangers respond well to me. Theo seems happy, too, if a little distracted, and I wish I could go over and kiss him, perhaps rub his shoulders or his neck. I can’t, though – and not just because we’re in public. I can’t shake off the image of him and Claudette alone together in his villa, and now I’m back to being struck virtually mute whenever I’m near him.
There’s so much available to buy here, from antiques to clothing to jewellery and even furniture. I suppose it’s the Spanish equivalent of a UK car boot sale, and I regret not bringing my purse out with me when I see how many nice little gifts I could have picked up. I’m particularly drawn to a gold necklace with an Indalo Man charm, and I pick it up and finger it in wonder.
‘He will bring you luck,’ the stall owner tells me, but as I put the necklace back down he notices my tattoo.
‘Ah, I see that you know the Indalo.’
‘Yes,’ I smile at him. ‘I do indeed.’
‘And has he brought you luck?’ the man wants to know. ‘Has he kept you safe?’
I think about how happy I was waking up in Theo’s arms yesterday, and how wretched I feel today, knowing that he let Claudette stay with him, and almost shake my head. But he looks so hopeful and sincere, that instead I tell him yes.
‘What have you discovered?’
I turn to find Tom at my elbow, and point to the necklace.
‘Why don’t you get it?’
‘It doesn’t work like that,’ I explain. ‘You can only give the Indalo as a gift, you can’t buy one for yourself.’
‘Then I’ll get it for you,’ Tom offers immediately, and the man behind the table claps his hands in delight.
‘No, no,’ I say, stopping him before he can fish out his wallet. ‘I already have my tattoo, remember? I don’t need another Indalo.’
‘Oh.’ I’m not sure who’s more crestfallen, the man who wants the sale or Tom, who has pushed his sunglasses up into his hair to give me the benefit of his sad eyes.
‘Come on.’ I lead him away, apologising to the man over my shoulder as we head back towards the other two.
‘Are you okay?’ Tom asks, and I feel tears welling up yet again.
I can’t answer, so instead I just nod, biting down on my bottom lip to steady myself. Claudette, meanwhile, has charmed another local and Tom is called away to film the interview. Theo and I are finally alone, but I have no idea what to say to him.
‘You are very quiet today, Hannah,’ he says after a time, not turning to look at me. There’s a trail of clouds crossing the sky today, and every few minutes, one will pass in front of the sun, dappling the grey tarmac of the car park we’re in and turning Theo’s eyes from dark brown to jet black.
‘I’m okay,’ I tell him, staring hard at a really ugly bronze model of a donkey on a nearby table.
‘You are not yourself,’ he says, stating it as a fact rather than asking me.
‘I am,’ I lie, shaking my head. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Somebody has upset you,’ he replies, his tone inching towards playful. ‘Shall I guess who?’
Why is he doing this? Why is he being deliberately cruel?
I shrug, and he blows air out through his nostrils as if he’s exasperated.
‘It is not like you to be this way,’ he tells me, running a finger along my bare arm, which causes me to quiver with pleasure. My body is betraying me, but I can’t help it. I’m putty around those long, tanned fingers of his – he knows it just as well as I do.
‘I’m just tired,’ I murmur, my voice more conciliatory now that he’s touch
ing me again. ‘Claudette’s boyfriend turned up banging on the door first thing this morning looking for her.’
‘Oh dear.’ Theo is clearly amused by this little nugget of information, which isn’t the response I was after. He should be alarmed or at the very least sympathetic, but he’s neither.
‘So I hear Claudette stayed with you last night. Did you two just get drunk and pass out?’ I ask him then, hating myself for needing to know, and loathing the way my question sounds so full of hope.
Theo doesn’t answer straight away, and I fear I may have stepped over the line into inappropriate, but then he reaches for my hand.
‘Hannah, you don’t need to worry,’ he assures me. ‘I did not invite Claudette over for the same reasons that I ask you.’
He sounds genuine, and when I look into his eyes, I find that I believe him. So Claudette stayed over at his – so what? They go on these shoots abroad together all the time, and it stands to reason that they would be friends. She’s just winding me up by letting me believe something more happened. This is my darling Theo – the man I have loved for as long as I can remember. I don’t really believe that he’s capable of sleeping with Claudette right under my nose – he’s just not that person. She very easily might be, but he isn’t.
I return the pressure of his grasp, and he leans across and gives me the briefest kiss on the side of my mouth before letting go and heading over to where the others have just finished.
I was so silly to freak out. Theo’s right, I don’t have anything to worry about – he’s still just as into me as he was yesterday, and nothing’s changed between us. But if that really is the case, then why won’t this creeping sense of impending doom go away? No matter how many times I tell myself that everything is all right, my body refuses to settle down. Perhaps I should have let Tom buy me that Indalo necklace after all, because something in the very depths of my churning guts is telling me that I’m going to need all the good luck and protection I can possibly get.
By the time five p.m. arrives and the Old Town shutters begin to close around us for siesta, I’m so shattered that I can barely stand up straight. Clearly I can’t handle the booze as well as I once could, because my hangover has been getting steadily worse throughout the day rather than better. As we’re so close to the apartment, I use the excuse of needing to check on Nancy to head back and get my thoughts in order. I know that Theo is likely to summon me to the villa in a few hours, but I feel slightly reluctant to go. It’s not that I don’t trust Theo or believe that anything happened between him and Claudette, it just feels almost as if the villa is the scene of a crime, and I know I won’t be able to shake off that feeling for a while. I can’t risk behaving in a way that might put Theo off, not when I’ve done so well getting him to like me.
I’m still mulling it all over when I reach the front door, but as I raise the key to the lock I hear shouting coming from inside. It’s Nancy, and she sounds angry. Very angry indeed.
‘I know he’s there!’ she yells, her voice high and accusatory. ‘I’m not going to stop calling – he can’t hide from me forever!’
What the hell is going on? Has she called Dad and he’s refusing to speak to her?
There’s a pause, presumably while whoever it is on the other end of the phone is talking, and then Nancy starts up again.
‘No, I’m not! No, it’s his fault. How dare you say that to me?’
Should I go in there? I don’t know what to do.
‘Oh, so that’s the way it is now, is it? You and him? Oh, I might have guessed. You’ve always been after him. I’ve seen you looking at him.’
She’s definitely not talking about Dad. At least, I really hope she’s not …
‘Don’t you dare hang up on me!’ she rages now, and I wince at the menace in her voice. So much for Nancy being a quiet little earwig over the past few days. Clearly she’s been saving up all her energy for this.
‘BITCH!’ I hear her cry, followed by the sound of something smashing, and it’s this that propels me through the door. Nancy is standing out on the balcony amidst the remains of what was once a coffee mug, her arms folded and her shoulders shaking.
‘What the hell’s going on?’ I ask, and she swings around in surprise.
‘Hannah! Hi, sorry, I just dropped a mug. Sorry, I’ll pay for it.’
‘I don’t care about the bloody mug,’ I tell her. ‘I heard you shouting at someone.’
‘That was just my friend Amy,’ she says, wiping the tears angrily off her cheeks. ‘Well, she’s not my friend any more.’
I open my mouth to ask what Amy’s done, but before I can get a word out Nancy cuts across me.
‘Where’s Tom?’
‘He’s … Er, I think he’s gone home.’
‘Can we go there?’
‘Yeah, I guess so. If you want to.’
She flashes her teeth at me, but it’s about as convincing a smile as the ones I’ve been giving Claudette all day.
‘I need to get changed,’ she says, and stomps past me.
There is something very odd going on, I realise, fetching the dustpan and brush and sweeping up the shards of china. Maybe Tom has been right all this time and there is more to Nancy’s slightly weird behaviour than simply a few heavy nights. As much as I hate the idea of calling Dad, I fear it might be time. If he’s the reason behind all this, then I need to know.
When I take out my phone, however, it immediately starts to ring in my hand.
Theo.
I stare at his name on the screen, flicking off the ringer and waiting until he gives up and ends the call. As predicted, a message arrives a few seconds later.
‘Come to the villa. Now.’
I could weep with the longing I feel for him, and the desire to be close to him again is almost enough to break down my resolve, but then I remember Nancy. I can’t leave her alone, not now, not after what I’ve just witnessed. It’s not Tom’s job to look after her, I know that now. It’s mine.
With trembling fingers and a frantically hammering heart, I quickly type back a reply.
Nancy still not well, sorry. See you tomorrow, I promise. H xxx
I press send and watch while the message registers as delivered. After what feels like an age, Theo responds.
Ok.
No kisses, no concern for my sister, no nothing. I’ve blown it, haven’t I? After years of waiting for my dream man to notice me, I’ve gone and fallen at the first hurdle. How could I have let this happen? And how the hell am I going to fix it?
‘Shall we go?’
Nancy is standing ready behind me, her make-up immaculate and a flowing duck-egg blue dress making her eyes gleam. She looks beautiful, and for the first time in my entire life, I tell her so.
30
‘I’m going to miss seeing these mountains every day.’
‘Hampstead Heath isn’t quite the same, is it?’ Tom agrees, gazing out across the water to where the dark brown masses of centuries-old earth stand like sentries along the coastline.
‘The colours, too,’ I add, lifting my sunglasses so I can fully appreciate the fresh cobalt of the Mediterranean sweeping against the golden shore. The sky above us is the same piercing shade of blue that Disney animators choose for their princesses’ eyes, and so ever-reaching that it makes me feel dizzy to behold it.
We’ve been sitting on the sand for about half an hour now, having dropped Nancy off at the beach bar on the way down here, but both Claudette and Theo are running behind schedule. While I fully expect it of her, it’s not like our boss to be tardy, and I’ve been driving Tom mad by checking my phone every few minutes. I’m desperate to see him, but terrified at the same time. Will he even be speaking to me after I rejected his offer last night?
Claudette has obviously made up with Carlos, because a few minutes later she arrives on the back of his moped and kisses him goodbye for long enough to earn herself some puking noises from Tom and me. She’s also very clearly chosen to forget about the frostiness betwe
en the two of us yesterday, because after flinging her bag down on to the sand, she greets me with an enthusiastic kiss on each cheek.
‘Good night?’ guesses Tom, and she smiles knowingly.
‘That stinks,’ I remark, holding my nose as Carlos speeds away in a cloud of dust and petrol fumes, but Claudette doesn’t hear me because she’s too busy pulling off her dress over her head.
‘What?’ she demands, looking at Tom and me as we exchange a glance. ‘I need to make the most of this weather while we are still here. There is as much chance of proper sunshine in England as there is of Tom having sex again before he is forty.’
‘Nice,’ Tom deadpans, and I chuckle at the two of them, grateful that some of the past week’s tension seems to have finally eased. I’m still not entirely happy with Claudette for a number of reasons, but I just can’t muster up the energy to be annoyed with her today. My mind keeps straying back to Nancy and the phone call I overheard last night. She refused to talk about it on the walk up to Tom’s apartment, and then proceeded to persuade him and me to go to Diego’s restaurant for dinner. The cynical part of my mind suspected that, not content with spooning and doing heaven knows what else with Tom and fooling around with Ignacio, Nancy was now planning to have some more fun with my teenage amour. However, when we got there, she barely spoke two words to Diego all night. In fact, she was so despondent in her responses to his over-the-top flirting that I ended up feeling sorry for the guy.
‘Where is Nancy?’ is Claudette’s predictable next question.
‘At the beach bar,’ I tell her, pulling my vest top away from my back before it adheres itself to the sweat. The temperature is rising by the minute, and it’s so hot now that I’ve had to dig little holes in the sand for my feet to sit in because the top layer is burning my skin.
‘Where is our esteemed leader?’ Tom asks Claudette, but she’s now lying flat on her towel and so ignores him.
‘Should I call him?’ I say out loud, but not to anyone in particular. ‘I should, shouldn’t I? Just to check that everything’s okay.’
Then. Now. Always. Page 25
