by Susan Lewis
The taberna was nestled on a grassy knoll that overlooked the most breathtaking views of the Mediterranean. Parking alongside three other cars, she walked to the edge of the knoll and stood staring out to the horizon. It was so beautiful and peaceful, and she felt so unbearably alone, and afraid, that she didn’t dare to move for fear of what she might do. The rocks below were a long way down, the noise of the waves rushed through her ears, while their power seemed to sweep her insides. She thought of Heather Dance, and for one desperate moment considered calling her. Maybe, in a sad, female way they could comfort each other, reach out in their shared pain and make the other believe that in the end it would all come good. But Heather had Colin to comfort her, so why would she need Beth? Or Ava? Why did anyone need Beth? But Beth needed Ava. Ava could make all this pain go away, even if only for short, blessed moments.
The light was beginning to fade as she walked back across the grass and into the bar. It was deserted, apart from a young boy, nineteen or twenty, bone thin and no taller than her shoulder, who was polishing glasses and watching a TV that was jammed into a shelf between assorted bottles of spirits and liqueurs. Catching her reflection in the mirrored backdrop, he turned and greeted her in broken English, which made her smile. It was funny how people could tell, despite her dark tan and Scandinavian blondness.
She ordered a large vodka with ice, then perched on one of the bar stools. She didn’t notice the half-finished drinks at the other end of the bar until the door to the gents opened and two men returned to claim them. To her surprise she recognized them both. One was Antonio, from the designer dress shop in the old town; the other was the taxi driver who served her parents’ complex.
Immediately her heart started to beat faster, even though there was no coherence to the instinct yet. It was enough just to feel the power blooming and pricking like roses at the join of her legs. She picked up her vodka, downed it in one go, then signalled the boy to bring another. The drink was heating her from the inside, making her glow, dazzling all inhibitions into submission. She kept her eyes on her reflection, but she had Antonio’s attention now, she could feel it. She waited a few seconds, then looked along the bar to where he was watching her curiously, seeming to ask himself if it was really her. She raised her eyebrows and his face instantly lit up.
‘I tell myself it is you,’ he grinned, getting to his feet. ‘I say, it is the beautiful woman who try the gold dress and I am lucky enough to see her again.’ He was coming towards her, so she swivelled on her stool to greet him.
‘Are you alone?’ he asked, looking around.
‘It would seem so,’ she responded, looking around too.
‘You remember me, sí? Antonio.’
‘Of course,’ she replied, gazing right into his eyes.
‘And this,’ he said, indicating his friend, ‘is Marco.’
‘Hello, Marco,’ she purred, as the short, stocky driver joined them. Funny, she’d never thought of men as pawns before, but that was what she was thinking now. She could use them, make them do anything she wanted, because she, Ava, had the desire and the power.
‘We already meet,’ Marco informed Antonio, while not taking his eyes off Ava.
Antonio looked interested, and said something to Marco in Spanish. Marco shook his head. ‘No, I never take her in my taxi,’ he replied, a slow smile curving the fleshy mouth beneath his moustache. ‘But I like to.’
Antonio spoke in Spanish again, and from the way Marco’s eyes began to bulge Ava knew he was relating what had happened in the shop. Marco looked her up and down, clearly surprised, but obviously hoping he might be treated to the same kind of show.
Ava picked up her drink, drank half of it, then stroked her bottom lip with the rim of her glass.
Less than ten minutes later she was naked on the bar stool between them, inwardly revelling in the abandon, and adoring the feel of the air, and their eyes on her flesh. It felt so exhilarating to be undressed like this, drinking her drink and absorbing their desire, while knowing they wouldn’t dare to touch unless she allowed it. Maybe she would, maybe she wouldn’t.
The boy served another round of drinks, then, trembling with excitement, did as Antonio told him and went to turn the sign on the door to closed. Her back was against the bar, one arm across her waist propping the other that was holding her glass. She watched the boy, while imagining the feel of Antonio’s and Marco’s hands on her breasts. The sting of lust between her legs was severe. She smiled and took a sip of her drink. Her eyes met Antonio’s. He moved in closer. She looked down as his hand came towards her. How far would she let this go? He was touching her, stroking one distended nipple, while Marco began teasing the other. The boy was standing close by, transfixed by a scene he’d probably never even dreamt of seeing. She looked at him and quite suddenly everything changed.
‘No,’ she cried, as shame and nausea washed through her. ‘No. Stop!’
Antonio and Marco drew back in surprise.
Her glass hit the floor as starting to panic she grabbed for her clothes.
‘What is wrong? What happen?’ Antonio said with feeling. ‘We no hurt you …’
‘No! I have to go,’ she gasped, pushing past him and running for the door. To her relief it wasn’t locked. She tore it open, closing her ears to their protests, but when she reached the car she didn’t have the keys.
Quickly she pulled on her T-shirt and wrapped the sarong round her waist. There was so much fear inside her that her entire body was shaking. She couldn’t go back in there, so what was she going to do?
‘You forget these.’
She swung round to find Antonio holding her keys, offering them to her and smiling.
Cautiously she took them, tensed ready for his move. But where would she run? How could she possibly fight him off? Oh, dear God, what had she been thinking?
‘We thought it was what you wanted,’ he told her, letting his hand fall to his side.
She couldn’t speak. The thoughts in her head were so jumbled she barely knew what they were.
It was quite dark now, with only the lights from the taberna flashing an occasional red and amber glow on their faces. Not far away the surf crashed on the rocks then sucked itself back. She thought he was going to speak again, but then he turned and walked away.
Half an hour later, as she drove through the pitch-black night, she was still trembling with the shock of what she’d done. It could have turned out so much worse. They could have raped her, for God’s sake, and who would have blamed them. She’d been asking for it, at least Ava had, and in truth she couldn’t even say now that Ava had any regrets, for there was no denying the incredible sense of power she’d experienced before Beth had snatched control. Her heart gave a painful twist as she realized that she had no clear idea of how she felt about any of it, for there was a part of her that was still turned on by what had happened, while another part was clinging to the fear and revulsion. Dear God, was this how it was going to be from now on? Had the struggle begun between the totally disparate sides of her nature? Who was going to win, Beth or Ava? Who did she really want to be?
Feeling suddenly nauseous and breathless she pulled in to the side of the road. Her heart was pounding, seeming to crush her lungs. Her skin was burning and sweat was pouring down her body. She rested her head against the wheel, forcing herself to take in slow, steadying gulps of air. She’d be all right, the world would stop spinning soon; the nausea would pass. It must be the thought of returning to Joyce that was making her feel like this, so maybe she should find a hotel and go back in the morning. Yes, that was what she’d do, and as soon as the decision was made she felt herself starting to relax.
After a while she looked around at the empty black night. There were no lights, no signs of life; no other cars on the road. She was in a lay-by. The roof was on the car; the windows were up to seal in the pre-cooled air. The harvest moon was one of the most beautiful she’d ever seen, big and round and such a deep buttery yellow it might actually s
tart to melt. She wondered if they had those moons in LA, whether the smog would get in the way, or somehow contrive to make them even more beautiful than the one she was staring at now. She wished it could speak, or in some way convey a message of hope or understanding, or simply a small sign to show her that everything really was going to be all right.
Her eyes dropped to the side-mirror as it reflected the twin beams of a car’s headlights coming along the road behind her. As they drew closer the car seemed to slow. She continued to watch, curiously, then anxiously, as it pulled up alongside her. She reached for the ignition key and started to turn, but as the engine caught, the other car came to a stop, blocking her way out.
Fear made her heart pound again. She couldn’t see who was in the driver’s seat. The windows were tinted. She was so remote and vulnerable here. There was nowhere to run, and if she screamed no one would hear.
She watched, frozen to her seat, as a man got out of the car and walked round to hers. Quickly she scrambled for the lock, making sure it was down. Her eyes were panicked as she looked up at him. His face was only just visible in the moonlight. He was saying something, then she realized he was asking if she was all right.
Still she only stared at him, fully expecting him to kill her, the way Colin had killed Sophie Long?
He backed off a little, and gestured for her to roll down the window. Shaking badly, she opened it a crack.
‘Do you need help?’ he asked in English. ‘Have you broken down?’
She shook her head.
He nodded and smiled. ‘OK. I just wanted to be sure. Good-night then.’
She watched him get back in his car and drive away. For several more minutes she continued to sit where she was, shaken, and disoriented by the coincidence that was making her feel as though she was in some kind of weird Buñuel movie, where people kept appearing in places they were least expected. First there was Laurie Forbes on the day Colin was arrested, and again at the publishers. Then there were Antonio and Marco, in the wine bar tonight. And now there was the man who had walked behind her in town, whistling and appearing more interested in the sky, stopping here to check she was all right. He’d shown no sign of recognizing her, but she’d recognized him. Her head was starting to throb. Did any of it mean anything? Was there some strange sort of significance to these coincidences that she was supposed to understand, and didn’t?
Putting the car into gear she drove back out on to the road. She had no theories as far as Laurie Forbes and Antonio were concerned, but if the man who’d just stopped was who she thought he was, she needed to leave Spain right now, tonight, and when she got back to England she’d call Robin immediately and tell him to do what he could to get her to LA.
Chapter 14
‘LAURIE, IT’S SIMPLY too gorgeous an evening to be scowling like that,’ Rhona complained from the kitchen terrace, where she was relaxing amongst Andrew and Stephen’s lovingly nurtured pot plants and alabaster statues, with a freshly blended grey goose martini. Up above was the spectacular roof terrace where Andrew and Stephen barbecued and partied with almost the same regularity as most people ate lunch, but for this evening this little outdoor haven would do.
Laurie was in the kitchen, the phone pressed to one ear as she waited for Murray Cox to come back on the line. She was looking at Rhona through the open windows and was about to respond when Murray’s voice suddenly said, ‘Laurie, sorry to have kept you. It’s a bit frantic here this evening. Now where were we? Oh yes. Elliot’s on his way back from Zurich, but I spoke to him before he left. He says can you meet him early evening tomorrow?’
‘Did you tell him what it was about?’
‘He already knew.’
Laurie’s face tightened, even though she’d guessed Ashby would have got word to him somehow. In fact she was surprised he hadn’t called her by now, or maybe they were engaged in some kind of competition on who could hold out the longest. ‘Tomorrow evening will be fine,’ she said. ‘Where?’
‘He’ll call you to set it up,’ Murray answered. ‘How are you by the way? It’s been a long time.’
‘Fine,’ she answered, softening slightly. She had nothing against Murray – in fact she’d always liked him a lot. ‘How are you?’ she asked.
‘Too busy to know,’ he responded. ‘The other lines are going berserk. Sorry, I’ll have to go, but it was nice hearing you. Hopefully we’ll get to see you before too much longer.’
‘Mm,’ Laurie answered.
After putting the phone down she picked up her own martini and looked at it appraisingly. It was bound to be lethal, knowing Rhona, but they were the best martinis in town, and no evening as balmy and tranquil as this should be without one, no matter the mood.
‘Nectar,’ she murmured after her first sip. ‘Simply nectar.’
Rhona wandered to the door and leant against the frame. She was neither tall, nor slim, nor particularly beautiful, but her luscious curves and long, narrow eyes oozed the kind of sex appeal that had made more than one man leave home. ‘So?’ she said in the seductive, guttural tones she couldn’t help.
Laurie was midway through another sip. ‘This is too much,’ she declared after letting it steal potently into her senses. ‘You’re just too good. He’s en route from Zurich. I’m seeing him tomorrow.’
Rhona’s eyebrows went up. ‘And he knows what it’s about?’
‘Apparently. According to Murray.’
‘Aaah, Murray,’ Rhona purred. ‘Is he still working there? Of course, the place would fall apart without him. How is he, the little darling? I’ve missed him. We used to have such good times, didn’t we, dropping into that office unannounced? Do you remember how we used to plot to take on the world, put everything to rights? Amazing what we thought we could achieve after a couple of Murray’s martinis, wasn’t it? We were going off to Africa at one point, I remember, but we couldn’t decide which country needed us most.’
‘Lysette went to Uganda,’ Laurie reminded her.
‘Of course. With Elliot. He wrote some brilliant articles from there, as I recall. And Lysette got her heart broken a thousand times over. Wasn’t she arranging to smuggle a child back here, until Elliot found out and stopped her?’
‘Three children,’ Laurie corrected, remembering that time only too well. ‘She never really got over that experience,’ she said. ‘It crushed her, seeing all that tragedy. Then she and Elliot broke up for the nineteenth time, because he couldn’t make her stop pining.’
Rhona was smiling sadly to herself. ‘They were always the most unlikely couple, those two, weren’t they? Him, such a man of the world, hard-edged, down to earth, no illusions, and her so starry-eyed and gentle and full of dreams. Yet somehow it seemed to work.’
‘If you call all that heartache working,’ Laurie responded.
Rhona’s eyes moved to hers. ‘There were good times too,’ she reminded her. ‘Lots of them, as I recall.’
‘Do they make up for the others?’
‘Lysette would probably think so.’
‘But she didn’t, did she, considering what happened in the end?’
Rhona’s eyes went down. ‘Laurie, your sister was a saint,’ she said, ‘and that would be hard for any man to live with, especially a man like Elliot.’
‘No one forced him.’
Rhona’s eyes were imbued with feeling. ‘Did it ever occur to you that it was in trying not to hurt her that he ended up hurting her so much? He really cared about her, Laurie. Deeply. That was why he found it so hard to break off the relationship.’
‘Well, we all know how he did it in the end,’ Laurie said sharply, ‘so maybe we should change the subject and decide if we’re going to order in. This kitchen is so pristine, I’m almost afraid to touch anything.’
They looked around at the immaculate shiny white and stainless-steel surfaces, and fixtures that boasted zero embellishments, such as fridge magnets, plants, hanging pans, dried herbs or pots of utensils. Everything was so designer-minimal that the dini
ng room that was annexed to it seemed almost cluttered with its eight black-lacquered chairs, glass-topped table on a black marble plinth and three moody monochromes of Rubayat, the precious Persian cat, that had been taken by Stephen.
‘It would feel like a sacrilege bringing anything as common as pizza into this place,’ Rhona lamented. ‘But we can always eat outside. Have you heard from Andrew and Stephen, by the way?’
‘They called last night,’ Laurie answered, sliding open a drawer that contained the local phone directories. ‘Rehearsals are due to start next Monday for Andrew’s play, and Stephen thinks he might have a commission to photograph someone’s house out on Long Island. So they’re off to a good start. Oh, who’s that?’ she said, as the phone suddenly rang. She scooped up the triangular chrome receiver. ‘Hello?’
‘Laurie? It’s Elliot.’
The surprise was like a punch in the heart. ‘Hello,’ she said coldly, looking at Rhona, who frowned curiously at the tone of her voice. ‘I thought you were on a plane.’
‘It just landed. Murray told me you called. This is the first chance I’ve had to get back to you.’
‘It’s OK. I spoke to Murray just now. I’m free tomorrow evening.’
‘Good. Is this Andrew and Stephen’s number I’ve just rung?’
‘Yes,’ she confirmed. ‘I’m looking after the cat and the house while they’re in New York.’
He paused, then said, ‘We’ll need to discuss certain aspects of you staying there, but we’ll leave it until tomorrow. Has anyone contacted you since you made the visit?’
Knowing what he meant she resisted the urge to be difficult and said, ‘No.’
‘OK. I’m hiring a private detective to keep an eye on you.’
‘What!’ she seethed. ‘Don’t you dare –’
