by Judy Astley
‘You could take magazines. Britt Ekland asked for back issues of Vogue,’ Beth told her.
‘Remember Oliver Reed, saying he’d have an inflatable woman?’ Len laughed.
‘What for?’ Delilah asked quickly.
‘To fuck, honey.’ Dolly’s harsh voice rasped out loud and laconic. ‘Wha’ ja think?’
‘Um. Oh. Yeah,’ Delilah murmured. ‘Um, anyone swimming?’
‘You know what, Ned?’ Beth said to him as they went down to the water. ‘I reckon Delilah tried to drown the wrong one in that family.’
‘I’m a good swimmer,’ Lesley murmured out loud to herself. ‘No I’m better than that, I’m an ace swimmer. I swam for the school. And the county. I can do this.’
She was all right in the sea back at the hotel. There was the reef not far from the shore: nothing special, just a man-made wave-breaker, a calm swimming place for nervous guests and a perch for the pelicans. When you were in the water right there it felt safe because you couldn’t see the open sea over the rocks. Here on the seaward side of Dragon Island the ocean went on for ever. The next landfall from this tiny strand of sand was way out there over the horizon: it was quite probably Venezuela. If the current caught her, Lesley could be carried out to the middle of nowhere, out of sight of land and life, drifting slowly away to a lonely drawn-out death. She imagined poor Mr Benson in the grey Guernsey early-morning water, fighting to get back to land, swimming hard, sometimes thrashing out in a panic, sometimes trying to be calm, to pull strongly and steadily, only to be tugged further out to cold exhaustion and defeat. Did there come a point when you gave up and gave in? What happened if you were out there till it got dark? Suppose you saw the lights of a ship and got some hope up and then watched it pass and sail away? Agonizing, that would be. Being eaten fast and brutally by a shark might be better.
She sat on the damp sand at the edge of the water and rinsed her snorkel mask out.
‘Beth?’ she said. ‘Maybe I should just stay here and keep an eye on Dolly?’ It sounded pathetic, like a plea for permission to be let off the swim. Schoolgirlish. Any minute now, she’d be telling the others she’d got a note from her mum. ‘Lesley has a slight cold and cannot swim today.’
She was a grown-up, for heaven’s sake. Why not simply say she’d decided not to bother, that she’d rather lie on a lounger and stare at the sky? You were allowed to do that, when you were a grown-up. You were also allowed to have fears and to admit to them, she reminded herself firmly.
‘But the snorkelling here’s really good,’ Beth was saying. ‘That bit of dark blue water just out there, where the reef drops away – that’s supposed to be one of the prime sites of the Caribbean for fabulous fish! And we might see turtles!’
‘I know . . . but . . .’ Lesley faltered. ‘Truth is . . . I’ve just lately got a bit scared about the open sea. I know I’m a really good swimmer but . . .’
‘Lesley, it’s fine, I’ll be right beside you,’ Beth assured her. ‘I’ll make sure I stay between you and the next continent, truly. It would be a shame to miss out, you were really looking forward to it.’
Lesley pulled her mask over her head and adjusted her snorkel, trying a few experimental breaths. She felt like a small child, encouraged by her mother to go to a party where all the class mean girls would be.
‘OK, as long as we don’t go too far from the shore.’
‘Look, I’ll go one side, Len can be on the other – we can hold your hands if you like,’ Beth assured her.
‘No, don’t say anything to Len,’ Lesley said quickly, ‘I don’t want him to . . .’
‘You ready?’ Len came up and slapped her on the behind.
‘Yeah, I’m ready. Don’t go swimming off where I can’t see you, Len,’ she told him.
‘What, you worried I’ll be a shark’s lunch?’ he laughed, patting his capacious stomach. ‘Poor thing would find it’d bitten off more than it could chew.’
‘Len, don’t joke. You don’t know what’s out there.’ But she did. Mr Benson was out there. A horrid, agonizing death was out there. Len thought she was over it. He’d said she was being morbid, brooding over the lost guest’s disappearance. He’d even joked about it. ‘You’ll see,’ he’d said, the day Mrs Benson had given up and gone back home. ‘In a couple of years he’ll have turned up in Australia with some young thing.’
‘Oi, everybody!’ Len did a mock whisper and waved the others closer. ‘Lesley thinks there’s something hungry out there, listening to us, so whatever we do . . .’
‘Len! Stop it you daft sod, I only meant be careful. Stay close together in case someone gets cramp or something. And that’s everybody, including you, Len, OK?’
Lesley splashed into the waves and ducked under the water, then rolled onto her back. Bliss. She was going to enjoy this. It was going to be all right.
Oh it was so easy. None of them were around so Cynthia could prowl where she liked. Bradley was up at the Haven having Reflexology, which gave Cyn at least a good forty minutes. And the others wouldn’t be back from snorkelling for hours. Beth (sure to be Beth, in bloody charge being as sensible as ever) would hoist the blue flag requesting a return trip to the hotel, but they’d probably have to wait; Carlos wouldn’t let anyone else drive his precious speedboat, and he was busy in the afternoons, zapping about in the rescue boat chasing after hopeless guests who’d sworn they were brilliant sailors but who turned out to be completely inept at handling the hotel’s fleet of Hobie Cats.
Cyn strolled along the path between the lush ginger lilies and strelitzias towards the ocean-front rooms. She didn’t look sideways but listened carefully and made sure she was alone. At the final turn she hesitated and peered along the open-sided corridor where she’d find rooms 1105 to 1112. There she was, the friendly cleaner who always said ‘Hi’ as if she was singing it, turning out the end suite ready for new arrivals.
‘Er – hello?’ Cyn tapped hesitantly on the open door. ‘Um . . . I’m so sorry, but do you have a pass key? I’ve come back from the beach to get my sunglasses and . . . so stupid . . .’ Cyn broke off and gave a small silly-me laugh. ‘I’ve forgotten my key!’
‘Sure! Which one?’ The cleaner took a key from her pocket and followed Cyn along the corridor. ‘Oh, this one,’ she told her, indicating Beth and Ned’s door.
‘Thanks so much,’ she beamed as the door swung open, ‘I’m so forgetful! It must be the heat!’
A small qualm of doubt hit Cyn as she closed the door behind her. Suppose the cleaner said something to Beth? Suppose, next time she saw her, she said something about remembering her key this time? It wouldn’t matter about Ned. If the girl made that kind of remark to him he’d simply brush it off and assume she’d got the wrong person. Men never did delve into things, overanalysing, the way women did. She sometimes wished she was more like that. Wouldn’t it be easier just to take everything that was said at face value, without looking for hidden intricate meanings all over the place? On the minus side though, that would mean she had to accept Ned’s insistence that their affair was over. But she knew he didn’t mean that. He just hadn’t thought things through.
Cyn stood by the door, almost afraid to move, taking in the room’s layout. It was the same as hers and Bradley’s but the opposite way round, with the bed on the left. She checked the mahogany bedhead. Like theirs, it was pulled a few inches clear of the wall. She remembered the first year they’d been to the Mango, Lesley in the Sundown bar one night blurting out something about how peculiar that gap was, and did they think it was to stop the wood scraping marks on the painted wall? Gina, Beth and Cynthia had laughed at her and she’d been puzzled.
‘Noise abatement,’ Beth had explained (of course she did). ‘It’s so it doesn’t crash against the wall and keep the people in the next room awake,’ and still Lesley hadn’t got it. ‘But why . . .’ she’d begun. How naïve could you get?
‘It’s for when you’re having sex, Lesley honey!’ Gina had had to spell it out.
&
nbsp; How much rocking and crashing had Beth and Ned’s headboard been doing? Cyn stroked the soft silk robe that lay folded neatly on the end of the bed. It was the mauvey-grey colour of a pigeon’s throat. She tried to imagine Beth in it and pictured her padding barefoot out of the bathroom with the robe slipping from one bare shoulder, her curls softly tousled, the steamy scent of shower gel in the air. I can do tousled, I can do silky robe and gorgeous scent, she thought angrily. She felt like ripping the garment in half and caught a horrified sight of herself in the mirror, actually staring round wildly, searching for scissors.
She then wandered into the bathroom and spent a few moments checking out Beth’s cosmetics. She didn’t seem to go for brand loyalty then: here was Clarins moisturizer, Simple cleansing wipes, Lancôme, Chanel and Max Factor eyeshadows, Chantecaille blusher. She opened a Clinique lipgloss and tried it on. Not really her colour, she decided, peering into the mirror, a bit on the plummy side. She delved further into Beth’s make-up bag, searching for more intimate items – a pack of contraceptive pills perhaps, a multi-flavour condom selection. Finding nothing of interest, she put everything back tidily where she’d found it and returned to the bedroom, then climbed onto the bed and lay down, using Beth’s robe as a pillow. It was easy to tell who slept on which side – Beth’s table had a heap of books, the sort that tend to come under Modern Women’s Fiction, whereas the opposite table held a Psion organizer, a diver’s computer watch and a copy of Coral Reef Fishes. No condoms there either. Perhaps they didn’t do it. No, she decided, too much to hope for, especially on a hot holiday. Beth had probably got a highly efficient coil. She was the sort who’d be careful to get it changed every three years – probably using her birthday as the reminder time.
Cyn got up and went to the windows. It was tempting to open the doors and go out onto the balcony. Perhaps she could wave at the snorkelling party as they came back in the boat from the island. She could just imagine Beth out there, sitting beside Ned and saying, ‘Third one along, isn’t that our room? Who’s that on our balcony?’ He’d know. He wouldn’t need a second look.
Time to go back to the beach. Bradley would be back from his reflexology any minute. She hoped he wasn’t going to tell her all about it. Nothing was more boring (though analysis of a golf game came close) than hearing What the Therapist Diagnosed – you’d think people would want to keep it to themselves if a masseuse tinkering with your big toe noticed a malfunctioning colon.
Cynthia took her perfume atomizer out of her bag and sprayed it around the room. Beth would think the cleaner had been wearing swanky scent but Ned would know better. And in case he didn’t – she slipped off her cream Myla knickers and pushed them under his pillow. With men it was no use being subtle; you just had to spell it out.
Beth watched Lesley as she waded out of the shallows and up the beach. There was such a difference. All that shrinking fear had vanished and Lesley was now laughing and happy. She even looked somehow taller, slimmer, radiating confidence.
‘I did it!’ she called. ‘In the real, open sea! I was beginning to think I’d developed a real phobia there!’
‘You did, and wasn’t it brilliant?’ Beth said as they walked back towards the bar.
‘That big turtle! I thought, does he fancy me or something? He wouldn’t leave me alone! Followed me everywhere like a puppy!’
‘Anyone fancy a beer? Thirsty work, swimming.’ Len came up behind them, flinging an arm round each of the women. ‘Better get one in for old Dolly as well. What’s her poison?’
Beth giggled. ‘Better not mention poison, Len, she might start mixing up a potion. Where is she?’ she said as they approached the palm grove. ‘This is where we left her, isn’t it?’
Dolly was nowhere in sight. Her lounger was still safely in the shade, and her sunglasses and hat were lying on it as if bagging it for later. Her shoes were neatly placed side by side on the sand.
‘What’s all that, under her hat? Isn’t that her robe thing?’ Len said, poking at the little fabric heap.
‘She must have gone for a paddle. She can’t be far though, surely. I wish I’d known, one of us should have been with her.’ Beth peered anxiously out to sea.
Lesley picked up Dolly’s sunglasses and gingerly poked at the belongings so very neatly folded beneath. ‘All her clothes are here!’ she howled. ‘It’s happened again! She’s gone!’ Lesley, distraught, fell into the sand and screamed and screamed.
12
Kiss-In-the-Dark
21 ml gin
21 ml cherry brandy
21 ml dry vermouth
The sun was down, gone in that swift final green flash on the horizon that Beth loved to watch each evening. You didn’t get a lingering sunset here – darkness almost literally fell, tumbling over the land in a rapid half-hour as if it had a record time to break. Dusk was also the peak time for mosquitoes to attack, and the astringent whiff of sprayed chemicals and lemon filled the air and mingled with the scents of assorted fruits that were being sliced at the Sundown bar for the early-evening drinks rush.
Beth, Gina, Dolly and Len sat at their usual table on the beach side of the terrace, enjoying what Len called a ‘Day-Ender’. And how we deserve it, Beth thought as she took a deep reviving sip of her Sea Breeze and tried hard to obliterate from her mind the astounding sight of Dolly that afternoon, strolling stark naked along the sand in all her pale-skinned glory, hailed back from her visit to Dragon Island’s nudist area by Lesley’s sky-splitting screaming.
‘That woman coulda woken the dead!’ Dolly (now securely buttoned and belted into a navy blue linen dress) seemed to find this an amusing thing to say and had repeated it several times, drawling the words ever more slurringly as she made her way through her third pina colada. No-one else was laughing.
‘Enough already, Mom,’ Gina told her, taking her empty glass from her and returning it to the bar counter.
‘Hey! Bring me another while you’re there!’ Dolly yelled. ‘And a bowl of those peanuts!’
‘You’re not allowed peanuts, Mom, you know that. They’re a choking hazard for you,’ Gina told her patiently. ‘And you’ve had plenty to drink. You’ll fall out of your bed tonight if you have any more.’
Dolly gave a crackly snigger. ‘I doubt it, honey. I have a feeling tonight’s the night! And in the morning when I’m lying cold and stiff and gone you’ll be filled with guilt that you denied me my last wish, one last measly cocktail.’
‘Trust me, I’ll deal with it. That’s what therapy’s for,’ Gina replied. ‘Now do you want dinner with me in the restaurant or in your room?’
‘In my room of course, like I always do,’ Dolly snapped. ‘You think I want to sit among strangers all chewing and swallowing?’
‘How should I know, Mom?’ Gina sighed, catching Beth’s eye and grinning. ‘I mean I wouldn’t ever have dreamed you’d take all your clothes off and go walkabout on a public beach, but hey, how wrong was I?’
‘How many times, honey, it’s a nudist beach; you don’t wear clothes.’ Dolly rapped a sharp gold-painted fingernail on the table as she spoke.
‘Not the whole naffin’ island, it isn’t!’ Len told her. ‘Most people take it to mean that bit where it says “Nude bathing area”, not the whole bloomin’ shebang. Still, no harm done, eh?’ He winked at Gina.
‘No, I guess not.’ Gina sounded weary. ‘I’m sorry folks, I didn’t realize Mom was going to be such a liability for you all.’
‘No she wasn’t, it’s fine, no worries,’ Beth comforted her. ‘And did you have a good afternoon? Did you do anything exciting?’
‘Er . . . not sure I’d put it that way; I just had some errands to run, nothing special.’ She gave Beth a smile full of mystery and left them all to guess what she’d been up to. Or possibly who. Which took Beth back to the Delilah-and-Sam conundrum. Please, she offered a quick prayer to any listening deities, please don’t let all that come to blows again.
Ned knew the instant he opened the door that Cynth
ia had been in the room. He felt his blood pressure instantly rocket to what was surely a potentially fatal level; at this rate Dolly wouldn’t be the only one going home neatly boxed in a plane’s cargo hold. How, he thought as he inhaled that unmistakable hint of vanilla, had she got in? She couldn’t have come with Beth – Beth hadn’t been back to the room since they returned from the island, but had spent a half-hour in the jacuzzi jollying Lesley along before joining Len and Gina at the bar. Had she broken in? He had a close look at the door lock – no damage that he could see, not that he couldn’t imagine Cynthia jemmying the thing open if she really set her mind to it. Maybe her room key was simply the same as theirs – he supposed there couldn’t be that many variations. Horrendous coincidence if that was the case – she could be in and out on a daily basis. She might follow him there when he was alone, creep up while he was showering. Psycho came to mind. Well it would: if she’d go this far, who knew what a scorned women was capable of? Or she could be hiding under the bed while he made love to Beth. Suppose she already had been? Oh God. Suppose she’d been watching and listening that night they did it on the lounger on the balcony? That had definitely been a bit special . . . but the thought of Cynthia spying on them from only feet away was an absolute blood-chiller.
Ned sat on the bed and wiped sweat from his forehead. He was just being paranoid. Wasn’t he? Perhaps it wasn’t Cynthia. It could be that it was her perfume but the cleaner had simply had a quick spray of it while tidying Cyn’s room, just to see what it was like. Or used the same sort herself; Cyn couldn’t be the only woman who liked that particular scent. But if it was her . . . what had she come in for? What did she hope to find? He looked around quickly, casing the room to see if there was anything immediately different, peering under the bed – she might have left something . . . Though what, a bomb? A recording device? Herself? He prodded the underside of the bed base. Nothing there, thank goodness.
Ned pushed the balcony doors open and went out into the steamy evening air. He could just make out Len sitting at the usual table across at the bar. There were trees blocking the view of the rest of the group, and he had to hope Beth was still with them rather than on her way back to the room for her bath. Ned needed time to check everything, make sure Cyn had left no more than her perfume behind.
