The Holiday

by T. M. Logan

  There was a note on the kitchen countertop next to the kettle.

  Gone for lunch in Béziers, back this afternoon. J + I x

  Béziers was the nearest big town, half an hour south by car, on the way to the beach. It seemed that Jennifer and family had opted for a change of scenery today and Izzy had gone along for the ride. I checked my watch – it was only just gone nine o’clock – feeling simultaneously disappointed and relieved that the showdown with Izzy would have to wait until she got back. It would give me time to prepare what I was going to say.

  It wasn’t a huge surprise that Jennifer, Alistair and their boys had left the house early. After last night’s row between Alistair and Sean, and the state the boys were in when they’d returned to the villa, it made sense that they’d want to skip the Awkward Morning After. That was Jennifer’s usual tactic: avoid, ignore, look the other way, hold the problem at arm’s length until it faded and was forgotten. Izzy, by contrast, had a tendency for straight-talking honesty that some people mistook for rudeness. I was somewhere in the middle, I supposed.

  I sliced and buttered a croissant and took it out onto the balcony with my coffee. The sun was already fierce, the air heavy with humidity and the damp, claustrophobic heat of impending thunder. And yet the sky was still a perfect azure blue, no clouds in sight and not a breath of wind. The only sound was a pair of swallows whirling high above me, calling to each other as they turned and chased in an endless dance.

  If truth be told, it was probably a good idea for everyone to have a few hours apart and do their own thing. Moments from last night kept coming back to me: Daniel pleading to go home; my husband’s half-apology in the kitchen; the look of horror on Lucy’s face when she fled the game of water polo; Sean squaring up to Alistair, veins standing out in his neck, telling him what would happen if he didn’t keep his hands to himself. The word on Ethan’s lips as he lay, drunk, in the grass. Oblivion.

  This holiday had gone wrong in so many ways, I had lost count.

  Odette came out onto the balcony in her pink sparkly swimming costume, munching on a brioche. Rowan followed, espresso in one hand and car keys in the other.

  ‘We’re going to try the beach again for couple of hours. Fancy it?’

  ‘My lot are still asleep.’

  ‘How’s Lucy doing?’ She gave me a concerned look. ‘After what happened last night, I mean?’

  ‘She was pretty upset.’

  ‘I thought Sean was going to punch his lights out.’

  ‘Watch this space,’ I said, ‘it might still happen.’

  ‘Give her a hug from me.’

  Russ emerged from the kitchen carrying a canvas beach bag, and they roared off in the Land Rover, leaving just the four of us at the villa.

  Just me, my cheating husband and my traumatised children.

  Now would be the time to check Izzy’s room, I realised. See what she had hidden in there that could confirm my suspicions beyond any possible doubt. Even though I wasn’t totally sure what that might be. Something that belonged to him, perhaps, a note, a photo, a mobile phone – evidence, of whatever kind. I hurried upstairs and was about to let myself into her room when Daniel’s door opened across the corridor and he emerged, fully dressed, book in hand.

  ‘Morning, Mummy,’ he said. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Oh . . . just going to check whether Izzy had that book I wanted to read. Never mind.’

  Lucy and Sean seemed determined to sleep in, so Daniel and I walked into the village, his little hand tight in mine as we weaved our way through ancient streets too narrow for cars, house walls of weather-beaten stone pressing in high on both sides. We found a playground behind the church, with benches in the shade of tall plane trees, and I sat and watched as he played on the swings and slides, the climbing frame and merry-go-round, wondering how I would explain to him what his father had done, and what it meant for our family. How could my boy possibly understand a betrayal so large, so far-reaching? Would he forgive his dad? Would he end up blaming me?

  Eventually he tired of the playground so we walked into the village square for croque monsieurs and Oranginas in the shadow of the little town hall, watching a couple of old men playing endless games of petanque on a long rectangle of sand beside the bar.

  Daniel asked to go to the shop after lunch, so we took a detour past the village’s crumbling medieval ramparts and into the air-conditioned cool of the small supermarché, crammed between an estate agent and a tiny antiques shop, both closed for lunch. The supermarket catered mostly for visiting tourists, its shelves lined with wine and beer, fresh fruit and vegetables, suntan lotion, beach toys and barbecue charcoal. I picked up a few bits and found Daniel in the sweets aisle, weighing two big bags of sweets in each hand.

  ‘Surely you can’t still be hungry after that big lunch,’ I said.

  ‘They’re not for me. They’re for Lucy.’

  ‘Well, aren’t you a lovely brother?’ I said, giving his fine dark hair a rub. ‘She’ll be very pleased.’

  I remembered that we needed more bug spray and went around the other side of the aisle to look in the display. The local stuff was far more potent than anything you could get in the UK, which seemed to have almost no effect on the mosquitos here – I had already counted more than a dozen bites on my legs alone.

  Through a gap in the shelves, Daniel said, ‘I’m trying to cheer her up.’

  ‘That’s nice of you.’

  ‘She likes Haribo, normally. She’s been really sad about things.’

  I found a can of serious-looking mosquito repellent and tucked it under my arm.

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘I made that film of her and she was really cross. She’s waiting for her exams and stuff, and her friends at school are being mean and thingamabob Bayley.’ He hesitated. ‘I saw her last night at bedtime and she was really upset.’

  ‘What thingamabob?’ I said as I found a packet of mosquito repellent candles at the back of the shelf and tucked them under my arm with the can.

  ‘You know, that boy Alex, who was in hospital – there’s a tribute page on Facebook.’

  ‘Aren’t you too young to be going on Facebook?’

  ‘They don’t check, not really. You just tick the box that says you’re old enough.’

  ‘I thought you had to be thirteen or fourteen to have an account.’

  ‘Everybody does it.’ Over the top of the shelf, he held up the two packets of sweets. ‘Shall I get her Starmix or Tangfastics?’

  I offered to pay for the sweets but he insisted on using the last of his holiday pocket money, carrying them proudly out of the shop in a striped plastic bag.

  We bought soft ice creams from the tabac and wound our way slowly back up the hill, Daniel excitedly telling me that Ethan had made friends with him again.

  It was early afternoon by the time we got back, the villa’s interior an oasis of cool after the noon heat. Lucy was still nowhere to be seen.

  I gave her a door a cautious knock.

  ‘Lucy?’

  Her room was in virtual darkness, shielded by the blackout curtains and chilled to the mid-teens by the air conditioning.

  ‘Lucy?’ I said softly. ‘Are you OK?’

  No response.

  Slowly my eyes made out her form on the bed, her back to me, unmoving.

  ‘It’s gone one o’clock, love. Are you going to get up soon?’

  Still there was no response. I was about to give her a gentle shake when Daniel’s voice reached me from the bottom of the stairs.

  ‘Mum!’ he shouted. ‘I’m going in the pool, are you coming?’

  I backed out of Lucy’s room, pulling the door gently shut behind me.

  62

  I was aware of someone above me as I dozed in the shade of one of the big poolside umbrellas, a soft cushion behind my head, my phone in my lap. Voices, and footsteps, and activity up on the balcony, and then the presence next to me. A smell. Male.

  I opened my eyes to find E
than looking down at me, standing slightly too close to my lounger.

  ‘Tea’s ready,’ he said with a smile. ‘Sleepyhead.’

  I looked for my watch, but my wrist was bare.

  ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Almost five.’

  Yawning and swinging my legs off the lounger, my phone clattered to the ground. I checked the screen for scratches, unlocked it and saw it was still open on Facebook, the tribute page Daniel had mentioned earlier. Dozens more heartbreaking comments had been added in the last hour. I closed the app and followed Ethan slowly up the steps to the balcony. Out of the shade it was still fiercely hot and almost unbearably humid – the air as thick as soup – but the wind was picking up at last. For the first time in days I saw clouds on the horizon, a thick, grey wall to the south, coming in off the sea. The forecast had been predicting a thunderstorm for the last few days. Maybe it was finally here.

  I dropped my eyes to the garden and found myself looking at my husband, sitting on an ornate white stone bench at the far corner of the garden, partially hidden in the shade of an olive tree. Sitting next to him, so close their heads were almost touching, was Izzy.

  They were both leaning forward with their heads down, talking fast, back and forth. I was too far away to hear what was being said but it was an animated conversation, Sean shaking his head repeatedly and Izzy nodding, emphatic, hands clasped together in front of her.

  Look at them, thick as thieves. What are you two talking about? How you’re going to break the news? How you’re going to tell me?

  There was a painful lump in my throat.

  Or is it just a matter of when?

  It looked as if Sean was disagreeing with her. Perhaps he wanted to wait until we were back home, but she didn’t want to wait any more? As I stared in fascinated horror, he looked up and spotted me. For a second our eyes locked and he stiffened, abruptly looking away as if he’d been seen somewhere he didn’t want to be. He jumped up from the bench and walked away from Izzy towards the stone staircase and the balcony where dinner had been laid out.

  I went and took my place at the table next to Daniel.

  Lucy appeared in a long-sleeved T-shirt, whey-faced, her hair unbrushed, and sat down without a word on the other side of me. She helped herself to a tall glass of lemonade from the jug in the middle of the table and then sat, sipping it, seemingly uninterested in any of the food. The big table was laid out with a huge array of cold meats, cheeses, fruit, pastries, freshly sliced baguettes and three pizzas as big as hubcaps, cheese still bubbling from the oven. Everyone – except Lucy – began to fill their plates in near-silence, punctuated only by Odette’s excited babble of post-beach chatter with Rowan.

  Jennifer and Izzy were the last to arrive, both of them blank-faced and silent. Jennifer took her place at the end of the table, next to Alistair and her boys, while Izzy edged past the chairbacks to the last empty spot at the other end. As she passed me she paused, touching me lightly on the shoulder.

  ‘Kate?’ she said gently, almost apologetically. ‘We need to talk.’

  I felt a jolt, as if I’d just grabbed a live wire.

  ‘OK.’ My voice almost cracked. ‘What about?’

  She held my eyes for a moment, then dropped her gaze.

  ‘Tell you in a bit. After we’ve eaten.’ She went to the empty chair at the head of the table and sat down.

  My stomach churned as I went back to my plate.

  ‘We’d best tuck in before that arrives,’ said Alistair, gesturing towards the mass of dark clouds to the south. ‘There’s a storm coming.’

  63

  My appetite had disappeared. I put a couple of pieces of bread on my plate anyway, just to give my hands something to do, reaching for a sharp knife and cutting thin slices of Roquefort cheese that I had no intention of eating.

  We need to talk.

  So this was it, the moment of truth, the confession. The moment when she finally came out with it, finally put me out of my misery. I felt as if I had been waiting for it for months, for years, but in reality it had been less than a week since discovering the messages on Sean’s phone. I had sworn to find the evidence, to smoke her out. And this is what it came down to.

  I felt sick, scared, angry. Numb.

  Conversation around the table was muted. A muttered exchange between Jake and Ethan, Daniel asking me about the pizza toppings. Odette’s voice piercingly loud as she pointed out – yet again – all the things on the table that she didn’t like and wouldn’t eat, which seemed to include virtually everything apart from what was on her mother’s plate. Then Rowan coaxed her into eating a small slice of tomato. Odette chewed it for a few seconds and promptly spat it out onto the tablecloth.

  Sean’s eyes were fixed on Alistair at the far end of the table with a frown of barely concealed suspicion as if he was waiting for the slightest reason, the slightest provocation, to restart last night’s hostilities. But if he was the least bit bothered, Alistair wasn’t letting it show as he uncorked a bottle of Faugères and filled nearby glasses.

  We need to talk.

  Each word was as heavy as lead.

  I took a sip of wine, the taste bitter in my mouth.

  Plates were filled and emptied in short order, food eaten quickly as if we all wanted this stilted meal together to be over. After ten minutes or so, as if sensing a need to fill the silence, Jennifer tapped a fork against her wine glass with a ting-ting-ting and cleared her throat. Her smile was fooling no one: she had always hated being the centre of attention.

  ‘Well, everyone, since we’re all here we’ve got a bit of an announcement, actually.’

  All eyes turned to her.

  ‘What with one thing and another—’ here she looked pointedly at Sean ‘—we’ve decided to head back to England a little bit earlier than planned.’

  There was a stunned silence around the table.

  ‘You’re leaving?’ All my thoughts of Izzy were momentarily forgotten. ‘When?’

  ‘That’s such a shame,’ Rowan said. ‘Aren’t you having a nice time, all of you?’

  Jennifer ignored her question.

  ‘There’s an evening flight tonight. We just need to get packed and sorted out here and then we’ll be off.’

  I put down my fork and pushed my plate away.

  ‘There’s no need to go early is there, Jen?’ I said. ‘We’ve only got a couple of nights left.’

  Jake sat up straighter in his chair, tuning in to the adult conversation for the first time.

  ‘Hang on, what?’

  ‘We’ve changed our flights, Jakey. There’s one at ten tonight from Béziers.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Your dad and I thought it was for the best, Jake.’

  ‘Best for who?’

  Jennifer’s blue eyes fell on Sean again.

  ‘Everyone.’

  ‘I don’t want to go home.’ Jake’s face was flushing red. I’d never seen him blush before. ‘I want to stay here, all of us together.’

  ‘Let’s talk after tea, shall we Jakey?’

  Jake stood up.

  ‘This is bollocks.’

  ‘Language, Jake.’

  He pushed his chair back and stormed off, throwing up a hand.

  ‘Whatever.’

  Ethan stood up too, looking at Daniel.

  ‘You coming?’

  ‘I suppose,’ my son said, looking over at me. ‘Can I?’

  ‘We’re in the middle of tea, love.’

  ‘I’m finished.’

  ‘You’ve got a whole piece of pizza to eat.’

  His cheeks started to redden too: I was embarrassing him in front of a bigger boy. His friend.

  ‘Please?’ he said. ‘It’s our last time to play together on holiday.’

  ‘What about the pizza?’

  He bit off half the pizza slice and spoke with his mouth full. ‘Finished now.’

  I sighed. ‘Go on then.’

  He scampered off after Ethan, down towards the
garden and the vineyard beyond.

  Odette pushed her chair back and stood up.

  ‘I want to go too, Mummy.’

  ‘You can wait until Mummy and Daddy have finished.’

  ‘Not fair!’ She stamped her little foot. ‘All the other children have got down!’

  ‘No, they haven’t – look, Lucy is still here.’

  ‘She’s not a children.’

  Odette ran off to catch up, shouting ‘Sardines!’ at the top of her lungs.

  Jennifer was already on her feet.

  ‘I should talk to the boys. Explain.’

  ‘Jen,’ Alistair said, ‘just let them go. Let them do what they want to do.’

  She ignored him, hurrying after her sons.

  The rest of us – six adults plus Lucy – sat in silence for a moment, none of us quite sure what to say next. It was as if a bomb had gone off and we were slowly emerging from the rubble, trying to assess the damage.

  ‘Another lovely meal all together,’ grunted Russ. Rowan jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.

  ‘Such a shame you’re leaving early,’ she said to Alistair again.

  Alistair refilled his wine glass. ‘Well, I think things here have pretty much run their course, don’t you? No point in stringing it out any longer.’

  ‘The kids seem to be getting on well, really getting to know each other.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ He threw a glance at Sean. ‘But I’ve always maintained that one needs to know when to cut one’s losses.’

  The silence resumed and we continued eating, listening to the distant shouts of the children running through the vineyard below. After a few minutes, Lucy pushed her chair back and walked off towards the garden without saying a word.

  Later, as the men wandered out in search of their children and we finished taking all the tea things back through to the kitchen, Izzy caught my eye.

  It was time.

  64

  Daniel

  Daniel trailed after the two bigger boys, stubbing at the dry, stony earth with the toe of his sandal. He was tired and bored and didn’t really know what they were doing down here in the woods. They’d done throwing stones into the gorge, and climbing trees, and whittling sticks into sharp points, and now he was just following them because he didn’t know what else to do.