by Joanna Rees
What possible need had he ever had to make up a different version of himself? He didn’t look like he was the kind of guy with an ugly past to escape. He looked like he belonged in this privileged life.
It was her quirky lie that had piqued his interest. He wasn’t going to be attracted to a girl like her from a scruffy, forgotten suburb of Outer London. He was attracted to the bohemian story she’d made up.
But looking at him, the sun twinkling behind him, making his eyes more blue than ever as they peered at her over the top of his shades, she knew she couldn’t break the magic. Not yet. She had to carry on with the lie.
‘Well, it was an odd childhood,’ she began. ‘A long time ago, now. I don’t have that great a memory, but I do remember it was fun.’ Without warning, a buried memory bubbled up to the surface, unbidden: the care home and the scratchy nylon duvet. With sudden, shocking clarity, she pictured herself as a small girl, alone and frightened, listening to the shouting of the staff and one of the other, older girls along the corridor. The banging doors. The boarded-up window that had never been replaced after someone had thrown a brick through it. How she shivered in bed, her nostrils filled with the smell of boiled cabbage from the kitchen and stale cigarette smoke, as she clutched the gold crucifix in her tiny palm, hoping it would keep her safe.
‘Do you sing, like your mother?’
‘Huh? Oh no,’ Jess said, trying to keep the lightness in her voice. ‘I play guitar. Just a little. That’s all. Nothing like Mum.’
Still the memory came – the sing-song chants of the boys in the home. ‘Paki. Nobody wants you, Paki.’ She pictured Christina, the woman in charge. She saw her raising her hand, saw her hitting the child.
Hitting her.
And Angel screaming, pulling at her top to make her stop, and Angel getting whacked too.
She cleared her throat, looking out at the white skyscrapers receding in the distance. ‘Mum was, well, she was quite a character. Certainly entertaining, although she never stopped singing. Or being on the move.’
She forced out the words, words and then more made-up words about being on the road, and with each one she felt like she was drowning in her lie. As she glugged more champagne, she became increasingly light-headed and name-dropped Bon Jovi and George Michael. She made up anecdotes about Austin, Texas, and Glastonbury, throwing in random facts she’d borrowed like a magpie from the profiles of people she’d only read about in magazines. And with every word, her lies moulded into something more tangible and she watched Blaise taking it all in, watching it set as the truth.
But it didn’t matter, she told herself, trying to quash the nerves that made her feel shaky inside. She was just a casual dalliance for him. Someone to fill up some time in Miami. He was the kind of guy who picked up people all the time, right? In fact, he probably had a girlfriend, or even a wife. Oh God . . . did he? The thought brought her up short. She hoped not. She didn’t want to be here for a day as wonderful as this . . . if that’s really all she was for him. Some kind of game.
Because that must be what this was. And after today, she’d probably never see him again. So what she’d just told him didn’t really matter.
It didn’t matter.
‘What about you?’ Jess said, as soon as she could. ‘Tell me about growing up.’
‘It was fun. I was lucky. Mum and Dad were in love back then and we had a great life. I was the baby, with two older brothers and a sister, so I always got spoilt. Dad liked the high life, so we holidayed a lot.’
Jess listened as he talked about his perfect life, feeling like her made-up past was more ridiculous than ever. Because in contrast to all the lies she’d told, she could picture the simple truth of Blaise’s life so well. Good-looking, well-educated teenage Blaise, perfectly formed with his sense of entitlement fully intact. For a second, she wanted to sling her champagne in the sea at the unfairness of it all. He’d had the kind of life she’d fantasized about for so long. Why did it get to be him and not her?
‘And what now? It sounds like you have it all,’ she said, hoping she didn’t seem bitter.
‘I can’t deny that I’ve been fortunate,’ Blaise laughed, as he took a sip of champagne. ‘My mother always told me I had a lucky streak. I seem to know a good property deal when I see one.’
‘A handy knack to have,’ Jess said. She wondered what kind of woman Blaise’s mother might be. She imagined a rich, gin-soaked woman with plump lips and no wrinkles, all designer suits and bright lipstick, who would be perfectly at home on a yacht like this. She probably wouldn’t take too kindly to her son dating an air hostess.
Dating? Jess caught herself. She was getting ahead of herself. Way ahead of herself. And anyway, it was too late. She’d already made up too many lies.
Your parents don’t make you who you are, she reminded herself of her familiar mantra, even though people like Blaise thought they did. She was responsible for being who she was. That was it. End of. Whatever backstory she gave didn’t change the present.
‘Yes, it is. And what about you? Where are you up to, Jess? Have you achieved everything you dreamt of?’
Jess smiled and shook her head. ‘Not even close,’ she said.
‘Oh. I see. You’re more ambitious than I thought.’
Hadn’t he thought she was ambitious? She couldn’t read his tone, or what he was implying. If she’d told him the truth from the start, maybe he’d think differently. Maybe he’d be impressed that she was someone who’d worked her way up from nothing. Someone who’d never had a leg-up, or a daddy to make a useful call. But instead, she’d given the impression of someone who mixed with singers and musicians, for whom this crazy travelling lifestyle she had was a matter of course, a stepping stone on the road to somewhere else, when it was actually something she’d worked her socks off for. It was everything that defined her.
‘I really like my job,’ she said, sounding more defensive than she meant to. ‘I want to continue to work my way up, you know. Go as far as I can in my career.’
‘What does that mean? You want to work in first class?’
She couldn’t gauge his tone. Was he teasing her? Undermining her dreams? ‘Ideally, yes. Then get to be senior cabin crew.’
‘What then? Would you work in management at the airline? People do that, I’ve heard.’
Why was he pretending he was interested in her career? It meant nothing compared to the things he did. Whatever they were. His ‘business interests’. She wished he’d stop pretending to find her fascinating.
‘I like flying. I mean, there’s so many places I want to go. So many things I’d like to see.’
‘Oh? Where’s top of the list?’
‘I don’t know . . . New York. I’d love to go to New York.’
‘Didn’t you go there when you toured with your mum?’
He’d tripped her up and she blushed.
‘Not really. Not properly. You know, to live,’ she said. ‘Besides, everything is different as an adult. Anyway, you don’t want to know about my silly dreams,’ she added, brushing the moment away.
Blaise’s eyes bored into hers. ‘Of course I do. I’d like to see if I can make any of your dreams come true.’
‘How you guys doing up there?’ Nacho called. ‘You fancy taking the jet skis out before lunch?’
Blaise grinned like a little boy and she was pleased that the moment was broken. ‘Sure,’ he called back. ‘Come on, Jess. I promise you you’ll love it.’
Oh God, Jess thought. What have I done? He might just be the most perfect man I’ve ever met and I’ve ruined it all before it has even begun.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Lace Island, 1990
The coral reef stretched in a horseshoe round the southern tip of Lace Island. Leila had first gone out on the diving boat with Chan when she’d been eight, but it had been Rasa who’d persuaded her to overcome her fear and dive. Even so, there’d always been that warning light of fear in her mind, thinking of the rogue shark that had k
illed her father, and she preferred the other dive site nearer the shore to this one.
Now, on the boat, she scanned the clear horizon, knowing it was ridiculous, but knowing too that she was waiting to see a dorsal fin break the glittering blue surface and confirm all her worst fears. But she knew better than to say anything.
As they chugged across the water to the reef, Rasa was still staring at the French girl, Marc’s girlfriend.
‘You know Monique, right?’ Adam checked, unrolling his towel to reveal two large brown beer bottles. He grinned mischievously and then popped open the bottle with his palm on the edge of the boat, denting the wood. Leila and Rasa exchanged a look as he tossed the bottle top into the clear ocean. She hated men like Adam, and seeing him through Rasa’s eyes made Leila despise him even more. What if one of the sea turtles ate that bottle top? She was about to say something, but she saw the minutest shake of Rasa’s head. They were staff, he was saying. This wasn’t the time or place to challenge Adam.
Leila watched as he took a swig of beer and then offered it to Monique, who shook her head. He licked the foam from his lip.
‘You are lucky to live here,’ Monique said, surprising Leila with her English. It was the first time she’d addressed her directly. ‘I have done some shoots in the Maldives, but this place is more raw. More naturally beautiful.’
So she was a model. That figured, Leila thought.
‘She’s famous, you know,’ Adam told Leila and Rasa. ‘A world-famous model. All the top designers know her.’ He looked at Monique with something very much like pure greed in his eyes, as if he was claiming responsibility for Monique’s success. And that he too should be applauded for recognizing her beauty.
‘No, Adam, I am not world-famous,’ Monique said, but as she turned her nose into the breeze like a proud dog, she was clearly flattered. Leila said nothing, watching a look pass between Adam and Monique. She squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. He was openly flirting with someone else’s girlfriend, and the fact that he was so blatant about it made Leila feel as if she was complicit in their secret affair.
She thought of the girls back at Hillmain and what Edwina would say if she could see Leila right now. What fools they’d been not to have believed Leila about any of this. They’d be in a geography lesson right now, while Leila was on one of the world’s most beautiful coral reefs with a famous model. She should feel like she’d got the last laugh, except that right now, she didn’t feel like laughing at all. Besides, those girls would already have moved on without her and have found someone else to bully.
She stared back towards the island. From out at sea, with this perspective, she couldn’t see the paddy fields, the village by the small port or the landing strip. Instead, Lace Island looked like the proper desert island it was, the land covered in palm trees, the shore fringed by the whitest of sand. The only building she could see was the old lighthouse, its white tower rising up to the sky. She wished she could scoop the whole image up and swallow it and hold it inside her forever. What if Bibi really had lost all their money? What if they lost Lace Island and had to move away from paradise? What would happen to her then?
The thought made her shudder. Ever since she’d been tiny, she’d been planning her future here. Not in any specific way, just a deep-down assumption that she’d have her children here and look after Bibi and Chan as they got old. But what if that didn’t happen? What if she had to go back out into the real world, where Lace Island didn’t matter, where everything that happened here meant nothing?
As the water changed colour where the reef started below, Rasa expertly slowed the boat and cut the engine. Automatically, Leila reached for the anchor line and, without even checking, threw it over the side. They’d done this often enough together that she knew the drill.
She watched the line sinking, hoping it would make it to the soft sand at the bottom. The clear water below her was teeming with life, shoals of fish darting among the pink and yellow coral plants.
Soon, Rasa had helped Monique get her scuba jacket on, and Rasa guided her off the side of the boat, backwards into the water. Leila watched Monique swim away, her long legs sleek in the water, her hair fanning out around her like a mermaid’s, and Leila was glad to be free of her presence in the boat and the cloying perfume she wore.
Adam watched Monique in the water for a moment before she turned and broke the surface.
‘Mon Dieu, c’est incroyable. Come, Adam.’
Adam grinned at her and then flipped himself backwards off the boat, his arms crossed over his chest. Leila and Rasa watched him swim away.
‘Good riddance,’ Leila muttered.
‘Are you going in?’ Rasa asked her.
‘Are you?’
‘No. I’ll stay with the boat. Help them out when they’re ready. We must help the guests at all times,’ he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. He hated Adam too, then. And it didn’t sound as if he was as enamoured with Monique as she’d feared.
Rasa nudged her and she looked over to where Monique and Adam were, near the reef. From above, it was easy to see that they were close together and Monique’s legs were twisting round Adam’s as they sank in the water together.
‘She couldn’t wait to get her hands on him,’ Rasa said.
‘I thought she was with the captain?’ Leila whispered, although it was ridiculous to whisper when no one could hear them.
Rasa raised his eyebrows. ‘She is. Or was. Only yesterday Lonegan came here with the man from Rio’s wife,’ Rasa said, as he tied the small metal ladder to the boat. ‘The same thing. He tipped me five dollars at the end of the day.’
‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ Leila said, but Rasa shook his head and pulled a face.
‘He’s paying for my silence. Men like that think they can have anything they want. You should watch him.’
‘Me?’
‘Have you not seen the way he stares at you?’
‘He’s not interested in me.’
‘Why wouldn’t he be?’ Rasa said. ‘You’re far more beautiful than her.’
‘But I’m only fourteen.’
‘You think age matters to him?’
He was leaning over the boat and the reflection of the sunlight on the water danced on his face. She wanted to say something – to deny that Adam might possibly be interested in her, to claim that she wasn’t beautiful – but she sensed that making him justify his compliment was the wrong thing to do and would only make her seem vain. She felt a strange emotion welling up in her.
Flattered as she was, was Rasa’s warning about Adam justified? Was Adam staring at her in his greedy way? Like that very first time they’d met? For a second, she remembered Sussman and a chill ran through her.
‘I saw him – Adam – with this guy I’ve never seen before. They nearly ran me over yesterday morning by the lagoon,’ Leila said.
‘What were you doing there?’
‘I was looking for you,’ she said, before blushing and quickly carrying on to cover the moment. ‘It was early and Adam was with this guy. A tall guy. I haven’t seen him before. He smokes a cheroot.’
Rasa’s face was serious. ‘Don’t go near him.’
‘Why? Is he dangerous?’
‘I don’t know yet,’ Rasa said, in a way that implied that Rasa was spying on him himself.
‘Where’s he from?’
‘Bamu told me that he comes from Burma. His name is Lee Shang.’
‘What’s he doing here?’
‘Nothing good, that’s for sure. Stay away from him, Leila. Promise me.’
Leila nodded, but her mind was whirling. The guy, Shang, was dangerous. She knew it and Rasa knew it. But Chan knew him too. If he was meeting Shang in the dead of night, then the chances were that Bibi didn’t know about him. But what was Chan hiding?
‘He scares me.’
‘Don’t show him your fear,’ Rasa said, reaching forward and touching her hand. Their skin against each other and the flaking painted blue wood would make an
amazing picture, she thought. ‘I’ll protect you,’ he said. ‘OK? No matter what.’
She stared into his eyes, seeing the amber dancing in the heart of them, and she knew that she was home. Whatever was going on, Rasa would find out and protect her. Together with him, she could handle anything.
‘Oh look,’ she heard. She broke away from Rasa’s stare to see that Adam had popped up on the other side of the boat and had taken the scuba tube from his mouth. ‘Love’s young dream,’ he said, grinning. ‘Pass me that knife, boy,’ he said to Rasa.
‘What for?’
‘There’s some oysters down here. I want to see if any have pearls in for Monique.’ He stared right at Leila. ‘There’s nothing I like better than teasing out a pearl.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
London, present day
Jess sat on the leather seat in the airline’s offices, feeling sweat prickle her neck. She’d come here for her first interview seven months ago now, but it felt much longer. That was just after Angel had died and she’d been in a very dark place. But her job had given her a new outlook and she felt that all the hope she’d lost in those dark days had returned. She was clinging on to this opportunity for all it was worth, which is why she was so nervous to have been called in on her day off.
It was an unseasonably hot April day and the office fan was blowing a stream of hot air in her face. This was why she wanted to fly, she thought, looking around the office of the HR manager, with its wall of filing cabinets and glossy framed pictures of the airline’s fleet. She couldn’t imagine being able to handle a desk job in somewhere like this.
She wondered what kind of a man Stephen Pikeman was and why she’d been called in to see him. And then a thought struck her: maybe someone had reported her for going off for the day in Miami with a passenger. No, no, that was ridiculous. She was pretty sure she hadn’t broken any rules. She could see who she wanted, surely? But maybe someone – one of the stewardesses, perhaps – had implied that she’d broken some sort of unspoken airline etiquette.
