‘Vale. Qué pasa.’
‘You haven’t told him, have you.’
‘No. It has been not the time.’
‘You’ve had three days.’
‘Yes, but the time did not happen.’
‘I’m sorry, that just doesn’t make sense.’
‘Tt… Is difficult to explain, in English, while I drive.’
‘No it isn’t. At some point, during three days alone together, you could have told him. You had mucho tiempo, you just thought you’d leave it, mañana, mañana, mañ…’
He veered off onto a track and scrunched to a halt with a cloud of dust. Fixed me with wild eyes.
‘You don’t talk to me like this, entiendes?’
I hadn’t quite come down to earth in his country and started to giggle. ‘Keep your hair on, I’m just—’
He slammed his hands down on the steering wheel. ‘Entiendes?’
I took what I hoped was a casual sip of my water and mumbled yes.
‘Qué?’
‘Yes.’
He looked away then turned to me again. ‘I take care of this, for all of us, it has to be… I feel these things, I will know when is right. You are not stupid girl, you can do this.’
I fussed with the window, hoping the hot breeze would dry up the tears starting to sting my eyes.
His hand on my shoulder. ‘You will see, it will be beautiful - you, Jeremy and me.’ He let go, re-started the engine. But peered ahead and broke into a smile. ‘Ah, we are here.’
‘Here?’ A tiny white derelict building the other side of a scrubby field, a rusted car, a small posse of mongrel dogs.
‘Perfect place. But there will be… sacudidas.’
He carried on down the track, the jeep swaying and jolting along.
‘Bumps?’
‘Yes, bumps. Hold your tummy!’
‘Where does it go, a beach?’
‘Claro.’
‘But won’t Jeremy be—?’
‘No Yoli, in-fact, he said to me you will ask for the sea.’
I reached behind me and pulled a costume out of my bag.
He glanced over. ‘What is that?’ It was a one piece with an attached skirt; Jeremy liked it, saying it reminded him of something his mum used to wear. ‘Is too hot for this. You don’t have bikini?’
‘Yes…’ I dragged out the top and shorts-like bottoms. But he looked over again and tutted, shaking his head.
‘Pilar will take you shopping.’
It would be nice to spend some time with her, but I was not buying some skimpy…
The track was about to turn sharply to the left; we didn’t look like we’d make it. But we went straight on into the pine forest, the wheels hissing on the soft sand and needles and stopping at a small dappled clearing. He reached behind him for some towels and was out of the car and round to my side before I could even get my seat belt off. Saying something in Spanish about us needing something.
‘Ven, before somebody come.’
‘Aren’t we allowed here?’ He took me into his arms and started kissing and pressing himself against me. Letting go to lay a large towel on the ground.
‘What are you… oh.’ A warm thrill spread down my body. But I didn’t want to arrive at the villa, into Jeremy’s arms, having just been ravaged by his lover. ‘I don’t think we—’
My t-shirt was coming off over my head.
‘Just a quick swim…’ I said, reaching inside the jeep for my bikini, but he’d whipped off his vest and had his warm chest on my back, his arms dragging me back and then down onto the towel.
‘Yes, it has to be quick.’
‘But…’
His hand had quickly gone up into my skirt and into my knickers. ‘Can be very quick,’ he added with a grin.
I started to take off my skirt with an embarrassed giggle, but he couldn’t wait for that, just lay me back, kissed my tummy and thighs, muttering in Spanish… and then was on top of me, very quickly bringing my weeks of longing to an ecstatic release. Followed by his own shudder of pleasure and whispered feelings of relief, even though surely he’d had plenty of this in the last few days.
Then he did up his shorts and sprang to his feet, saying he could hear something, and passed me my bikini. In a daze I took off my skirt and put it on, just before there were Spanish voices and a young couple emerging from the other side of the clearing.
He led me through the bushes along a path and onto a long sandy beach, where a strong wind was bringing in big wobbling waves. The sort that Jeremy liked to surf while I paddled and whooped.
‘I er…’
‘More bumps. But is okay, stay with me.’
He carried me up and over a particularly monstrous sea mountain, but soon had us floating in the calm deeper water. He lifted my legs to hold me like a baby.
‘Jeremy put you like this?’
‘Of course.’
He pressed his lips on mine. ‘And kiss you.’
‘Not quite like that.’
‘And sometimes he sleep in your bed.’
He looked into my face as the swell lifted us up and down. Surely he wasn’t going to start having a problem with me and Jeremy. He pulled my legs round him as I hung on with my arms round his shoulders. ‘Is pity for him he will never enjoy you like I can.’
He enjoyed me.
Nando laughed. ‘Yoli! Don’t be cross… claro enjoy, but also need and love as woman… He does not know these feelings. But will understand. Ven, we go to him now, no?’
We crunched down a narrow lane and arrived at some gates in a high stone wall. Nando got out and pressed in a code - nineteen ninety six, he told me, the year he and Toni were joint first in a competition and, rather than becoming rivals, became friends and later started their company. The gate slid back and revealed the bougainvillea-covered villa with its arches and grilled windows that he’d shown me on the computer, telling me how they’d bought it a few years ago to celebrate ten years of working together.
We went round the side to the walled garden, where Jeremy was coming towards us.
‘Yoli! Okay?’ He gave me a hug.
‘She was sick on the plane, but I gave her some big waves and she is better now,’ Nando said. Then he spotted something on the sun lounger. ‘Khe-re-mi! You have been reading more…’
Jeremy let go of me to grab Nando before he reached the book; a laughing scuffle broke out. Entwining bronze and golden limbs. Apparently they were synchronising their reading of Zafón’s new novel - Jeremy in English, Nando in Spanish, but occasionally swapping over - and Jeremy had gone on without him. They ended up in the pool.
I joined them, keen to lose my salt and sand. Then Nando got out to answer his phone, telling us to catch up with each other. So we lolled on an airbed, Jeremy telling me how relaxing it was there, perfect for me after my fraught few months. And perfect for him, forcing him to step back from the now finished novel, which, after a first re-draft on his return, would be ready for me to read.
‘I can’t wait. Come on, surely now you can tell me a bit about it.’
‘Well it’s called The Reader, so… it’s about you, really.’
I knew this. But hearing it… He pulled me off the airbed. I was his reader and his best friend, in his arms. But still able to feel where his lover had been inside me only an hour or so earlier.
‘Yol! Stop crying, you soppy thing.’ He pushed me towards a giant alligator.
‘Ooh!’ I said, trying to distract myself.
‘Apparently Toni has a thing about inflatables. Gives you two something to talk about this evening.’
Nando jumped back in. We played piggy-in-the-middle with a foam ball; Jeremy a cunning trickster of a piggy, Nando a swift, physical predator. Then I was in the middle, laughing at first but tiring; my splashy calumphing no match for their fluency and rapport. I went to the side and fussed about water in my eyes, saved a ladybird from the filter.
‘Oh come on Yol, you’re not trying,’ Jeremy said, making the ball
bounce on my head on its way to Nando.
‘I am, but I mean, I could be here forever…’
A splash, then Nando at my side, an arm round my waist, holding the ball with the other hand out behind him but slowing down his reactions to let me win it.
‘Ay… We need to give her something to eat, pobrecita…’
There were plates of bread, cheese, ham, and giant tomatoes. And then, apparently, it was time for siesta.
Nando took me through to my room: white and simple, with colourful pictures and beach-themed oddities like everywhere else in the villa. I was shown the new bathroom, as if it had been built for me. Then he brought me back next to the bed, put his arms round me and started kissing me. Even though he was about to sleep, and do whatever else was involved in a siesta, with Jeremy.
Who was suddenly there beside us.
We drew back, but Jeremy either hadn’t seen or didn’t seem to mind; he just pointed out the monkey-painted vase on the bedside table that they’d spotted driving past a garden centre, told me to rest and disappeared again.
‘God’s sake!’ I whispered to Nando.
‘Is okay. Sleep now, no?’
‘I got some sleep on the plane. Think I’ll walk down to the beach.’
‘No, no. Too much sun on the first day.’ He looked at me and put his hands to my face. ‘Yoli, you must not feel…’
‘No, I’m fine,’ I said. I just didn’t want to be in the house while it was going on, I’d get used to it but… not yet, and so soon after… ‘I won’t be long.’
‘Put more cream, and take drinks from the kitchen, there is nothing on the beach, okay?’
It was an appealing little path, twisting through dark humps of greenery, teasing with glimpses of the sea before abruptly dropping down steep steps to a small sandy cove. A locals’ beach: women and children looking up at the blonde guiri in surprise before returning my smile. The sea was much calmer here, I body-surfed in the waves for a while then came out and lay on my towel.
I couldn’t help thinking how nice it would have been after the satisfying but crude event among the pines - to be lying down for a sleepy cuddle with Nando. Perhaps it could happen later in the holiday, when Nando had talked to Jeremy; I just had to be patient.
I listened to the Spanish family’s conversation, but couldn’t understand it. Perhaps because the wind was blowing little bits of it away. As it blew some of the heat away. Blew the hair from my face. Like a hand. Like Mum’s hand pushing my hair back, on Beauport beach…
‘Yol. Answer your phone, girl. Bet you didn’t even bring it.’
I opened hot eyes to a golden-haired arm rummaging around in my beach bag.
‘Three missed calls. Look - you’ve turned the volume down, you idiot.’
‘Oh, it just does that…’
Now he was tapping through the menu. Surely he wouldn’t read my texts… But he was calling Nando, telling him he’d found me sleeping. We climbed back up the hill and met him standing by the gate. Wearing sunglasses, but his mouth in a line, knuckles on hips.
‘Qué haces, Yoli, sleeping on beach.’ He ran a hand over my hot back and pulled out an almost full bottle of water from my bag. ‘Qué tonta, mujer! Y por qué…’ His voice was disappearing into the ringing in my ears; I needed to sit down. I was hoping Jeremy would tell him that I didn’t usually behave like a mad-dog sun-starved English tourist, but he seemed to be just standing there in admiration.
I took the bottle and went off to my room. Collapsed onto the bed and stared at the monkey vase with its luscious pink flowers, the softly ticking alarm clock… but I needed to get up before I fell asleep and wasn’t ready when Toni and Pilar arrived. The water, a long cool shower, a handful of Jelly Babies from my bag; I started to recover.
I took my Spanish book to a deckchair under a fig tree. There were voices in the kitchen; the woman had come round with some of the food. I should probably have gone in and helped, but I wasn’t yet feeling up to my mujer duties.
Nando and Jeremy came out, apparently discussing the barbecue in between patting each other. Too bossy men apparently achieving a perfect equilibrium, like two little equal-sized planets peacefully orbiting around each other.
Nando spotted me. ‘Ah. Better? You have drunk all your water?’
I nodded.
‘Lift up…’ He pointed a fork at my book. ‘Good! And don’t forget we want to hear Spanish with Pilar.’
‘Yes, yes.’ I went back to the dialogue illustrating uses of the subjunctive: lots of negative commands. Hm, didn’t need any more examples of those right now. But he washed his hands and came over to me, took my pencil and sketched a man wagging his finger at a long-haired round-faced woman with dark shoulders.
Then I heard a loud, slightly lispy voice saying something about Nando being in paraíso with his two beautiful blondes and looked over to see Toni, wearing an orange Hawaiian shirt and enormous sunglasses. Followed by Pilar, complaining about the drive but looking radiant with her ponytailed hair tumbling onto a spotty t-shirt.
A t-shirt, that’s what I should have worn instead of my new sundress, because after the introductions and cheek kisses my burnt back became the raucous topic of discussion. Cava was opened, there was talk of a hired boat that Toni patiently translated for me, and laughter when Nando promised we’d tow him behind in an inflatable. Then there was a sudden male urgency about food, and Pilar and I went off to the kitchen to prepare salad while they started the barbecue.
Alone with her, I managed Spanish discussions of vegetarianism, our music college experiences and how I coped with proximidad to the most guapo man on earth. Meaning Jeremy, of course, her own dark prettiness presumably giving her some immunity to the swarthy beauty of her husband and his best friend.
Then Nando came in and asked for something from the fridge. Pilar pulled out a large bag and opened it on the cutting board. Or rather allowed it to flop out and introduce itself into the air: a large pink half-cylinder of fish, pez espada - fish-sword. I stared with my usual masochistic fascination, but the smell was bothering me. Although not as much as the squelch when Nando sank a knife into it.
I needed to be in that lovely new bathroom, and fast; it was okay, they would think I was just going to the loo. But a few moments later there was Nando, watching me as I stared in to the toilet bowl taking big you-don’t-have-to-do-this breaths.
‘When you have your regla?’
‘I haven’t got my period.’
‘Yes, I know this.’ Of course he did. ‘I’m saying, when was the last?’
‘I’m on the pill, there’s nothing to—’
‘When, Yoli.’
‘Er…’ I wasn’t entirely sure. ‘Four, five weeks, I think. But that’s normal recently.’
His gaze started darting around the room. ‘Where is your agenda… diary.’
I pulled it out of the Kipling bag on the chair. A quick tilt of the chin told me to find the date. I flicked to and fro, Nando shifting from one leg to the other. Possible period pain in Javi-misery Brighton, but more definitely on Emma’s rooftop couch. One of the Paco Peña concerts… But no, that was only a week later… Shit, I really had no idea. I hadn’t written anything down; I hadn’t expected it to matter. It didn’t matter; I was on the pill and, according to Charlotte and Helen, probably perimenopausal anyway.
‘Yoli.’
I looked at him. It looked more like six weeks, but there was no point in flustering him with that. ‘It’s fine, it looks like—’
He disappeared, apparently satisfied by my lack of concern. I could hear Toni calling his name and asking him something. Then Nando talking to Pilar. A car engine starting up, the squeak of the gate; it looked like Pilar had been sent to fetch something for the barbecue.
I sat on the bed, my head gently spinning. I swigged the last bit of water but it was warm and didn’t help. Asked myself what would help. My brain clacked through the possibilities and came up with tomato. Giant Spanish tomato. It was risky, given i
ts location near the squelch cylinder, but worth the gamble. I took off my sandals and padded into the kitchen, opened the fridge. Picked off a luscious red circle from the salad. And another. Mm. Carried the bowl back to my room and removed the lot. I heard Pilar come back, but was surprised to hear her sandals clapping towards my door.
She knocked and came in. A wide-eyed stare as I owned up to my salad theft, telling her I just had to, dehydration after the sunburn perhaps, I’d quickly make another. I repeated this in Spanish but she still didn’t look amused; maybe she was irritated by the errand after her long drive. Then she quietly informed me, in slow Spanish, that Nando thought I was embarrassed but I mustn’t worry.
Embarrassed? About being a vegetarian at a barbecue? Getting some stupid English sunburn? Yes, that was it, because she was holding out a bag from a farmácia. God he was making a big deal of this. And so was she, smiling awkwardly and looking me up and down.
Then, just as she got the packet out of the bag, it came to me. Embarazada: a false friend, as my Spanish book called it. Not embarrassed, but pregnant.
‘Oh… it’s okay, I don’t need that.’
‘He ask me help do it.’ Bloody hell. She was opening the box, removing the foil wrapping from a plastic stick. ‘You understand?’
‘Yes, but…’ Perhaps I just needed to get it over with so I could go and make another salad, which - oddly - I was suddenly looking forward to enjoying with that tortilla.
She sat down next to me, an arm round my shoulder. ‘Is okay, he say no te preocupes.’
‘I’m not worried, this is a complete waste of…’
She was reading the instructions even though it was all very obvious from the pictures. I stood up and she handed me the stick and the white clock to take to the bathroom.
I called out that I couldn’t orinar. She fetched me a bottle of water and came in to the bathroom smiling, patting me on the shoulder like she’d done at Sadler’s Wells when I first met her. She turned on the taps…
I looked at the second hand on the clock tick round. This was stupid. Bloody man, why can’t he listen? I’m on the… Bold and blue. Almost immediately. What? No, no, too soon, it was supposed to take… Much too soon, in every way; our half-relationship just started and… bumpy. Jeremy. How was I…?
FLAMENCO BABY Page 30
