“You’re getting hysterical,” said Cate. “But maybe we should at least walk along the road. She might have just pulled over to the side and fallen asleep.”
“At least we’ll be doing something.” Bree slung her bag over her shoulder.
“I hope we’re doing the right something,” said Cate.
The narrow country road was dark and deserted.
“It doesn’t feel like there’s been a crash,” Cate told Bree.
“How would you know?”
Cate shrugged. “I suppose I thought we’d smell petrol or something.”
“Get real,” said Bree.
Cate turned toward her and stumbled over a small rock in the middle of the road. She yelped.
“Are you OK?” asked Bree. “Have you twisted anything?”
“I’m fine,” said Cate. “Sorry about that.”
“Watch where you’re going,” advised Bree. “I really don’t want to have to carry you back to the villa with a broken ankle.”
They walked in silence, the only sounds coming from the crickets.
“It’s actually quite lovely, isn’t it?” said Cate eventually. “The middle of nowhere, perfect peace, the sky full of stars.”
“Just as well,” said Bree. “At least the moon and stars are giving us a bit of light. Otherwise this’d be a complete nightmare.”
“It’s not so bad. Oh!” Suddenly Cate doubled over and clutched her stomach.
“Cate!” Bree looked at her with concern. “Are you all right?”
“Pain,” said Cate through gritted teeth. She sank to her knees at the side of the road. “Hang on a minute.”
Bree’s heart was racing. She could see that Cate was in agony and she didn’t want to question her but she was terribly afraid that she’d injured herself seriously when she tripped over the rock. Only she couldn’t have, thought Bree. She’d stumbled, that was all.
“Cate?” she said tentatively.
“I’ll be all right,” gasped Cate. “I—oh, shit.” She doubled over again.
“Cate, it’s not the baby is it?” Bree’s voice was horrified. “Please tell me you’re not going into labor at the side of the road.”
“The baby isn’t due till March,” said Cate. “If it’s the baby, then I’m losing it.”
“Oh, Cate, no.”
“I hope not.” Cate bit her lower lip and then suddenly relaxed as the pain subsided. “It’s OK,” she said. “It’s easing off.”
“If you lose the baby then I really will kill Nessa.” Tears were streaming down Bree’s face.
“Bree, please, it’s all right. I’m sorry,” said Cate. “I’m not losing the baby. Honestly I’m not.” She looked at her sister ruefully. “I think it was just heartburn. I shouldn’t have dipped those tortilla chips in the chilli sauce.”
Bree wiped her eyes. “Are you sure?”
Cate nodded. “I’ve been getting it lately. But this was the worst ever.”
“You scared the living daylights out of me,” said Bree shakily. “Between you and Nessa I’ll be lucky not to have a heart attack before the night’s out.”
“I’m sorry,” said Cate again. “It’s just such an awful pain.”
“Let’s get back.” Bree looked up and down the road. “There’s no sign of Nessa. She must have done what you said, gone into town. Maybe she’s had a few drinks. Doesn’t want to drive back.”
“Absolutely,” said Cate. “And she could’ve booked herself into the hotel near the beach.”
“Do you really think so?” asked Bree.
“Remember when you were sixteen?” Cate did her best to smile. “And you had that speed limit sign tattooed on your arm? You and Mum had a monumental row over it.”
“Yes,” said Bree.
“You stalked out of the house and you didn’t come home until two in the morning,” said Cate. “We were all terrified then. But you were OK. Nessa’ll be OK too. But if she hasn’t come back by the morning we’ll contact the police.”
“All right,” said Bree.
“She’ll be back,” said Cate with a confidence she didn’t quite feel. “Once she gets over the shock, she’ll be back.”
She was remembering. Good times with Adam, times when he’d loved her. Times when she’d felt secure in his arms. Times when she hadn’t doubted him or doubted her reasons for being with him. It was nice to remember those times, to know that they’d existed. But, she thought now, maybe they’d only existed in her imagination. Maybe even then he’d been seeing other women. Seeing other women! It was such a coy way of saying what he was really doing. Fucking other women. That’s what it was, after all. She hated to think about it. She didn’t want to think about it, wasn’t going to think about it anymore.
“Hola!” The yell was urgent. Part of her knew that it was directed at her but she didn’t want to acknowledge it. She kept her eyes resolutely closed.
“Hola! Señora!” She could hear splashing now and she sighed. Somebody obviously thought that she was in trouble out here on the water but she wasn’t. She was fine. She was tired. She wished they’d leave her alone.
The splashing was closer now and she could hear a stream of words in Spanish. She opened her eyes and a wave of water splashed over her. She spluttered and righted herself. A man was swimming toward her, closing in on her. She shook the water from her face and her eyes widened. She’d drifted farther out to sea than she’d thought. Much farther. The lights of the bars and restaurants lit up the shore, but they were indistinguishable from each other. She took a deep breath and swallowed some water. She began to cough.
The man drew level with her and caught hold of her. He spoke to her again in Spanish and, when she said nothing, spoke in English. “Are you all right? I will bring you back. Please relax.”
She felt his arm around her and she struggled to free herself. She slid under the water and he grabbed her, then slapped her on the face. In the back of her mind she knew that this was what people were supposed to do when they were saving hysterical people from drowning but she wasn’t hysterical and she wasn’t drowning. She struggled again and he slapped her again. Then he began to tow her back to shore.
There was a small group of people standing on the beach beside her bundle of clothes. As soon as she stumbled out of the water, supported by the Spanish man, they all began to speak. A woman handed her a pink woolen shawl which Nessa, conscious of her nakedness and now also shivering with the cold, wrapped around herself.
“I’m all right,” she said in English. “I wasn’t drowning. I was perfectly safe.”
“You were too far out.” The man who rescued her looked at her accusingly. “It is not safe to swim on your own this late at night.”
“I would have been fine.” Nessa’s teeth chattered as she realized that maybe she wouldn’t have been fine.
“Why did you do this?” he asked. “This was a silly thing to do.”
“Because I felt like it,” said Nessa. “I felt like being silly.”
“Where are you staying?” A dark-haired woman of her own age broke into the conversation.
“Staying?” Nessa looked at her in confusion.
“In the town? Are you staying in an apartment? Or a hotel?”
“I’m not staying here,” said Nessa. “I drove from somewhere else. Past Alicante.”
The woman looked at the man and spoke to him in rapid Spanish.
“Perhaps you should stay in a hotel tonight,” he suggested. “It is late and it might not be a good idea for you to drive.”
Nessa laughed. “You think I’m mad, don’t you? You think I tried to top myself in the sea and you think I’ve been drinking.”
He frowned. “I do not understand what you are saying. But I think it would be a good idea for you to get warm and have some rest before you go anywhere else.” He put his arm around her. “You might have been safe but it was a dangerous thing to do all the same.”
Maybe he was her seafront café lover! The thought came to her
suddenly and she looked at him more closely. He was a better looking version of Tom Conti. Tall. Tanned. Not handsome, exactly, but attractive. She could stay with him and work in his café and make love to him on a boat and everything would be all right.
The dark-haired woman spoke to him again. He nodded a few times and then turned back to Nessa.
“My wife thinks you should register in our hotel,” he said. “We will escort you there. It’s not far. You need to rest.”
So much for her Shirley Valentine fantasies, thought Nessa wryly.
The man’s wife picked up Nessa’s clothes and handed them to her. Nessa hurriedly slipped into her cropped trousers and cotton top and handed the shawl back to the woman. Then, accompanied by the other people in the group, they walked up the beach and to the road toward a curved building which Nessa had noticed earlier.
One of the group pushed open the glass door which led to a gleaming modern reception area. Nessa followed them to the desk. The man spoke quickly to the receptionist who nodded and pushed a registration card toward Nessa. She filled it in and, surprised that it was still in her bag, handed her passport to the receptionist who, in turn, handed her a key.
The man and his wife accompanied Nessa up the white marble stairway and along the deep blue carpeted hall to her room on the third floor. He opened the door for her.
“You will be all right?” he asked.
“Sure,” she said. “I was always all right.”
He smiled at her. “Better to be safe, no?”
“Better to be safe. Thank you.”
“You are welcome,” he said.
“Goodnight,” said his wife.
“Goodnight.” Nessa closed the door and walked into the room. She opened the window to the balcony and stepped outside. Once again she could see the crescent beach and the sea which broke gently on the shore. It was beautiful, she thought. Really beautiful. It wouldn’t have been such a bad place to end it all. She pushed her damp hair back from her forehead. She wouldn’t have died there. She’d have been able to swim back to shore. She’d just wanted peace and quiet and that was what she’d found. It wasn’t her fault if other people had got the wrong end of the stick.
But now she was on her own and it was peaceful and quiet here too. She’d wanted to be on her own from the moment that Bree and Cate had sat beside her and told her about Adam. They’d looked at her, eyes full of concern, and she hadn’t been able to take their unhappiness and their pity. She didn’t want to be pitied by them. She was their older sister. She was the one that had got everything right. Only she hadn’t. She’d got everything wrong. Completely.
34
Moon/Pluto aspects
Changeable, prone to emotional outbursts.
It was nearly ten o’clock the following morning when she woke. A warm breeze was blowing through the open balcony door. She sat up abruptly as the events of the previous night rushed back into her head. But the sequence was jumbled, it took her a few minutes to sort them out. She rubbed her eyes and massaged the back of her neck. She felt as though she had the biggest hangover in the world. She’d taken some paracetamol before she’d finally crawled into bed last night but a pounding headache was rooted behind her right eye. She rotated her neck the way she’d learned at the stress management classes that Dr. Hogan gave. Then she got out of bed and went into the bathroom. She took another couple of tablets then pulled back the shower curtain and got into the shower. She closed her eyes and let the water run through her hair and over her body. Then, for the first time in her life, she actually used the miniature shampoo and soaps that had been left for the use of the guests. By the time she got out of the shower and wrapped herself in an oversized white towel, her headache had abated and she was feeling much better.
It was at that point that she remembered Bree and Cate and the fact that she hadn’t said anything to them in her frenzied dash from the villa. Although she was certain that they’d realize she needed to be on her own, she was equally certain that they’d want to hear from her. She went back into the bedroom and picked up her bag. Then she remembered that her mobile phone was lying in its component parts on the motorway and without it she didn’t have a clue as to Bree’s mobile number.
She sat on the edge of the bed and rested her head in her hands. She’d never bothered to memorize mobile phone numbers. What was the point when they were in her own phone’s address book? But now it seemed incredibly stupid not to have learned them. She felt daft sitting here, knowing only that the first three numbers were the 086 code and not having the faintest idea what came next. Of course, she could ring Adam. Not being totally senseless, she conceded, she’d also written them down in her address book which was on the shelf beside their bed at home. Adam could tell her the phone number and then she could ring Bree and apologize and say not to worry, she’d be back soon. With the car, she then realized. In abandoning them last night she’d left them 5 kilometers from the nearest shop without transport. And Cate was pregnant. Nessa sighed deeply and decided that she was, after all, an incredibly stupid, incredibly selfish, incredibly unlovable woman. Couldn’t she do anything right anymore?
She couldn’t ring Adam. She just couldn’t. She couldn’t talk to him as though her heart wasn’t smashed into as many pieces as her mobile phone and she couldn’t pretend that she didn’t know about the other women. In fact she knew that if she heard his voice right now she’d simply burst into more uncontrollable tears. She tried to concentrate but her thoughts were incoherent bubbles floating in her head which she just couldn’t seem to pin down. It was only when she was on the absolute brink of despair that she realized that her mother would have the phone numbers. And she knew Miriam’s home number off by heart.
She picked up the phone beside the bed, dialed nine for an outside line, and waited while it made the connection.
“Hello?” Miriam sounded breathless.
“Hi, Mum,” said Nessa.
“Hello darling, how’s the holiday going?” asked Miriam. “The weather’s lovely here too, you know, I was having breakfast in the garden. Had to run when I heard the phone ring.”
“We’re having a great time,” Nessa lied. “What I was wondering was, do you have Bree’s mobile number?” She winced as she realized how insane the question sounded.
“Bree’s number?” asked Miriam. “Why do you need Bree’s number? Don’t tell me you’ve had a row, Nessa, and she stormed off.”
“No,” said Nessa. “I came away for a day and I’ve lost my phone and I need to ring her.”
“You?” Miriam sounded astonished. “On your own?”
“Yes.”
“Are you OK, Nessa?” asked Miriam. “Only you’re not the one who usually disappears on her own. Bree I can understand. Even Cate, although maybe not in her current circumstances. But not you.”
“Why not me?” demanded Nessa.
“Because you like people around you,” said Miriam. “You like your friends and your family and you’ve never been a solitary person.”
“Well I’m a solitary person today,” said Nessa shortly.
“Are you sure there wasn’t a row?”
“I told you, no,” said Nessa. “I just wanted some time on my own, that’s all.”
“The sun must be having a strange effect on you if that’s the case,” Miriam told her.
“Please, Mum.” Nessa’s fragile temperament was beginning to fray. “Can I have the phone number?”
She waited while her mother got it and then read it out to her.
“Thanks,” she said when she’d written it down.
“Nessa?”
“Yes?”
“Cheer up.”
“What?”
“You sound a bit down,” said Miriam. “No matter what it is, whether you’ve had a row with them or whether it’s something else, life’s too precious to be miserable.”
“I’m not miserable.” Did she always lie so much to her mother? Nessa wondered.
“’Well, you
sound it,” said Miriam. “And I’m asking you to think about why and think about what you can do to make things better.”
“It might not be up to me,” said Nessa. “Maybe there’s nothing I can do. Perhaps I was born under a miserable star.”
“It’s always up to you,” Miriam told her. “There’s nothing you can do about the shit life throws at you, but you can choose to be happy or sad.”
Nessa said nothing.
“Still there?” asked Miriam.
“Just chosing to be quiet at the moment,” Nessa said briskly.
Miriam laughed. “There you go! Back to your old self again.” Her voice softened. “Take care, Nessa. Enjoy the rest of your holiday.”
“I will,” said Nessa.
She replaced the receiver and looked at the notepad beside her. Bree’s number didn’t even look familiar—one thing she was going to do right away was to learn people’s mobile numbers by heart instead of depending on technology to do it for her. In fact, she thought, as she began to dial, she wasn’t going to depend on anything or anyone else in the future. She was going to depend on herself.
Bree and Cate were sitting in the living room. They’d decided to wait until eleven o’clock and if they hadn’t heard from Nessa by then they were going to contact the police. Bree kept looking at her watch, wondering why it was that time was inching forward so slowly. Cate listened for the sound of a car on the country road.
When the phone finally rang, they both jumped in fright. Bree grabbed it and pressed the green button.
“Hi,” said Nessa. “It’s me.”
“Well, bloody hell, Nessa, thanks very much for calling.” Bree felt a wave of relief and anger wash over her and her voice rose as she talked. “We’ve been demented with worry about you. Where are you? What the fuck were you thinking of disappearing like that without telling us? Do you realize what the shock almost did to Cate? Do you?”
“I’m sorry,” said Nessa. “I really am. I needed some space.”
He's Got to Go Page 40
