by Emlyn Rees
‘Oh, yes,’ she stumbled, feeling like a fraud. ‘It was a terrible shock.’ Laurie covered her embarrassment by yanking the handle on the large suitcase, so that she could pull it on its wheels. She also had a large bag, full of canvases, brushes and paints, which she now heaved on to her shoulder. She’d even brought a hammer with her to knock together the canvas frames.
Laurie followed Maria up the edge of the new drive. As soon as the side gate clanked behind them, Laurie’s head filled with the scent of flowers battling with the aroma of the fresh, sparkling tarmac. She could hear the lazy pulse of discreetly hidden water sprinklers and it felt if she’d been transported to a secret garden, a million miles away from the stress of her own life.
‘We all miss Mr Glover,’ Maria was saying. ‘He always made a big fuss of us all. It won’t be the same without him. He loved this house. When he bought it, it was a ruin. My father said it had been empty for over fifty years. But of course you know this.’
They’d turned around the bend in the driveway and Maria’s voice trailed away, as Laurie couldn’t help stopping, awed by the view before her. The house, originally an old farmhouse was magnificent. Its pale rustic bricks were covered in a swathe of red flowers which crept up and around the arched wooden doorway. Three huge palm trees with criss-crossed trunks and towering fronds stood at its front. Behind them, through the manicured shrubs, Laurie could see a vine-covered eating area with an enormous barbecue. It was the kind of place only seen in the very glossiest pages of the most expensive, exclusive holiday brochures. And it was hers. All hers.
‘You’re so lucky. Your family . . . they are wonderful people,’ Maria said, waiting for Laurie to catch up with her.
‘I’ve not been close to them, until recently,’ Laurie mumbled, but Maria didn’t pick up on her hint at the literal truth. Instead, she unlocked the front door and glanced at her small gold watch.
‘I’m so sorry, I have to leave you now. I have to get back to the office. My cousin, Fabio, he will clean the pool and also bring you fresh deliveries, if you want. When the family is here, he brings fish and fruit from the market.’
This was paradise, Laurie thought. She wouldn’t even have to leave to go shopping. It was just as Rachel had promised. She would be all alone with no one to disturb her.
Maria handed over the keys to Laurie and then pulled a card from her small handbag. ‘Dante, the gardener, comes every day, but he doesn’t speak much English. If you have any problems, or want to ask anything, please call me.’
‘Thank you, I appreciate it.’
Maria smiled and waved, trotting off down the drive. ‘Enjoy,’ she said.
Left alone, Laurie pushed open the heavy front door, and sighed, as the coolness hit her. Inside the entrance hall, the decor was simple, with terracotta tiles on the floor and plain white walls dotted with tastefully framed abstract pictures. She paused to look at a black-and-white photograph on the stand in the hall, smiling as she recognised Christopher and Nick as small boys, regretting, as she had done when they’d shown her similar pictures in Dreycott Manor on the night before Tony’s funeral, that she hadn’t been in the happy family photographs herself. Still, it was possible to make up for lost time, she thought, replacing the photograph.
An antique wooden grandfather clock ticked in time with her footsteps as she made her way towards the foot of the marble staircase and a set of heavy oak doors. Laurie pushed one of them tentatively and it swung back to reveal a vast open-plan living area, with comfortable rattan sofas and chairs dotted around and a huge rustic farmhouse table with seating for eighteen. Large wooden fans hung from the high ceilings and, through an archway, she could see a massive kitchen with an old-fashioned range and modern cooker and sleek breakfast bar, complete with a table-top jukebox.
But it was the wall of sliding glass doors that was the most impressive feature of the room. Tiptoeing over the bright rug, Laurie turned the lock on one of the doors and stepped out on to the terrace. It was only then that she realised the true magnificence of Sa Costa. It simply had the most stunning view: down over the infinity pool, past the manicured lawns, and through a canopy of olive, eucalyptus and citrus trees to the expanse of blue sea twinkling beyond. Laurie remembered that Rachel had mentioned a path leading through the grove to the beach, but she’d assumed that her aunt had meant a public path. She hadn’t for one second suspected that Rachel had meant that the villa had a private beach.
Now she felt torn between whooping with glee and shrivelling with guilt. Rachel had made it all sound so simple and so obvious that Laurie should come here to work, but now Laurie felt as if she’d casually accepted a present without opening it and had taken it home and found something ludicrously expensive inside. How was she to know that Rachel’s villa was going to be like this?
‘Oh my God!’ she exclaimed, aloud, breathing in the warm air and watching the butterflies dance near her face. She jumped as a kingfisher darted past her ear and dipped its beak into the surface of the pool and flew off over the white diving board.
Then, suddenly, her phone rang, breaking the silence. It was Roz. She was clearly as excited as Laurie at the prospect of Laurie working abroad for a few months and was intrigued about the villa. She’d managed to pin down a few commissions after Laurie’s exhibition and was anxious that Laurie get on with them. She was also entirely seduced by the thought of Laurie’s new family and had wanted to know every detail of Tony’s funeral. And Laurie had willingly obliged, except for one huge omission.
Somehow, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to tell Roz about seeing Sam again. She hadn’t been able to trust herself to sound blasé about it and she knew that once Roz got a sniff of her confused feelings, she wouldn’t hear the end of it. She also knew that if Roz knew about Sam, there was no way she would have supported Laurie’s decision to come to Mallorca where she would potentially be so close to him.
‘So when’s James coming out?’ Roz gushed, after Laurie had described the view.
‘Give me a chance! I’ve literally only just arrived. Besides, James is busy. He’s recording an album for the next month.’
‘Poor you. Won’t you get bored? I don’t want you running off with the pool boy.’
Laurie laughed. ‘No chance. I’ve got work to do, remember?’
‘Well, if you do need company, I’m always free to jump on a plane. Now don’t forget to call me. I miss you already.’
Laurie rang off. Despite her good-humoured banter with Roz, she couldn’t help feeling guilty for not telling the whole truth. It was the same sickly feeling she had had since she’d told her father she was going away to stay in ‘a friend’s’ villa to work. Laurie hugged her arms around her, feeling rattled. How had she managed to turn from being the most honest person she knew, to being the kind of person who could easily tell a barrage of white lies to the two people she trusted most in the world?
But she had no choice. Things had been uncomfortably strained between her and her father since Laurie had admitted that she’d been to Tony’s funeral and Laurie couldn’t bear to make them any worse.
‘I told you, don’t mention that woman’s name to me,’ her father had said, after an audible intake of breath on the other end of the phone when Laurie had rung him on her return from Somerset.
‘But, Dad, Rachel’s not as bad as –’
‘I can’t stop you doing what you have to do in your life, Laurel,’ he’d interrupted. ‘I can’t stop you making choices that I disagree with. But you know how I feel about this. You have expressly gone against my wishes and, in doing so, have hurt me deeply and deliberately. I suggest that if you wish for us to remain civil to one another, you no longer discuss this matter with me.’
It had been a direct threat and his meaning had been as clear as the water below her in the pool. The choice had been – and remained – Rachel or her father.
‘You’re being so unreasonable,’ Laurie had objected on the telephone.
‘And you’re be
ing deliberately provocative. I don’t want to fall out with you. Nothing would make me sadder, but we will if you keep on about this. If you continue to consort with that woman . . .’
‘So you don’t want to know anything? You don’t want to know how she was? Or how I felt? Or about the rest of your family? My family.’
‘No, I don’t.’
‘But –’
‘I have to go now,’ he’d said abruptly, and had put down the phone.
Well, it was his loss, Laurie decided, turning back towards the house. If he couldn’t see that Rachel was kind and generous and sweet, then that was his problem. Laurie wasn’t going to let him ruin her new relationship with Rachel because of some ludicrous grudge he refused to explain. She, for one, was going to make up for lost time and enjoy her new-found status as part of a wealthy family.
After she’d devoured one of the fresh cartons of peach juice in the well-stocked American-style fridge, Laurie explored the villa. Her overwhelming impression as she dawdled from room to room was one of taste and cleanliness. It was like being in a stylish hotel, rather than a lived-in home.
It wasn’t until she reached the very top of the house that she found her favourite room. She back-dived on to the bed, with its pretty green-and-white quilt, bouncing gently on the soft mattress beneath the high exposed wooden rafters. Then, she turned her head and looked out of the small window, framed by the red flowers that ran over the white window sill. She could see the rocky peaks of the Tramuntana mountains in the distance.
It felt tranquil and serene up here and she decided to get her case and start unpacking her hopelessly shabby clothes into the simple antique wardrobe and tallboy right away. Once she got settled, she was bound to stop feeling so intimidated by the place.
It was only then that she saw it. She couldn’t believe that she hadn’t spotted it straight away. It was as glaringly obvious as a head in a jar, sitting on the small wooden table, and just as shocking. She jumped off the bed, backing away from the picture of Sam and Claire smiling on their wedding day.
Laurie caught her breath and forced herself to walk around the bed and pick up the picture. Her eyes blurred as she looked into those pale blue eyes she knew so well, remembering the funeral. Then, even worse, as she stared at Sam’s face, she thought back to the last time she’d seen him before that dreadful moment.
It had been three years ago. Three long, miserable, difficult years erased in a second, as her memory defied her and proved that she’d just been kidding herself. Sam had been lurking in the shadows of her mind all along in full Technicolor, just waiting for this very moment to step out and reclaim her.
It had been a hot September. A perfect September, but now it was at an end. In the departures terminal at Nice airport, Sam Delamere held Laurie like a lovesick teenager, as the final call for her flight back to England was announced. Desperately, he kissed her eyelids, her nose, her chin, her earlobes, until she laughed through her tears. She’d been so close to him, had spent so much time inside his personal zone, that his skin felt like her own, as if, over the three weeks they’d been together, they’d become the same person. The thought of now being apart, of breathing different air, was more painful than anything she’d ever experienced.
‘I love you, Laurie Vale,’ he said. ‘You and I are meant to be. I promise you that we’ll be together for the rest of our lives. I promise, you hear me? Say you hear me.’
‘I hear you, darling. Oh, Sam, I can’t bear this.’
He rested his forehead against hers.
‘I can’t say goodbye,’ he said. ‘It’s ridiculous, but I can’t.’
She shook her head and he wiped away a tear from her cheek.
‘I’m going to sort everything out,’ he said, gently. ‘It’ll be a week at the most, then I’ll come and find you.’
As well as the pain of parting, Laurie felt a sudden wave of pity – or was it guilt? – for the other woman, Claire, who Sam was returning home to break up with. Laurie had been dumped before. She knew how tough it was going to be for both of them. Even when, like now, the relationship was practically over anyway.
‘Be kind to her, Sam,’ she said. ‘Don’t hurt her any more than you have to.’
He nodded. He understood. Above them, the tannoy system blurted out an urgent call for all remaining passengers on her flight.
Laurie clung on to Sam.
‘Just go. Just go quickly. The sooner you do, the sooner we’ll be together again,’ he said and the pain in his voice had broken her heart.
At first, after she’d returned to England from her time with Sam, she’d been euphoric, unable to help telling everyone she knew that she’d found the love of her life. She threw herself into planning their future. They’d spent ages together talking about the places they wanted to visit, and Laurie started obsessing about a round-the-world trip to kick off their time together.
In a few days her flat was piled high with brochures and Lonely Planet guidebooks, as well as details of new properties in five different postcodes, just in case Sam thought it best to move first. As she waited for Sam to call with the good news that he was on his way to her, she rearranged her and Tamsin’s flat, assessing everything in terms of how Sam would see it. She even organised a party in Sam’s honour, so that he could meet everyone she knew.
Then, two days after she’d been expecting to start her new life with him, a postcard arrived. It showed the bay of Palma on the front. It was a cheap card, with no particular meaning. On the back it said: I’m sorry. I can’t explain, but it would never have worked out. Please don’t try to contact me. We can never see each other again. Best just to forget. Take care of yourself, Sam.
Laurie felt physically winded, as she read and reread the card. Distraught, she turned the card over and over, trying to fathom its meaning. Best just to forget? Forget? How could she forget?
It didn’t make sense. He’d been her perfect man. He’d made her laugh, he’d made her feel effervescent, as if every moment she’d been with him she’d been the best she could possibly be. He’d made her shine. He’d inspired her. She’d had her best ideas ever when they’d been together. Sure, it had been a whirlwind romance, but he’d fallen in love with her . . . hadn’t he? He’d told her often enough.
Unable to believe it, she convinced herself that something terrible had happened and that Sam needed her help. She tried all his numbers, but there was no answer on any of them, not even an answer machine. Then his mobile phone was disconnected. She rang the international operator who said that the number was no longer in use.
And then, finally, the truth hit her. The postcard wasn’t a mistake, or somehow a coded plea for help. The truth was that he hadn’t been maimed in a terrible accident and was lying in a coma, unable to call her to explain. The truth was that he’d gone home to Claire and had written to Laurie straight away. And he meant what he’d said. Sam really didn’t want her to contact him. Whatever they’d had together, it was over. For ever.
A hollow pain ripped through her. Everything she’d ever known, her whole judgement, the very foundation of her personality, seemed to sink away from her like a capsized boat. Roz and Tamsin, Heather and Janey rallied round, reassuring her that it was normal for holiday flings to end badly, but Laurie couldn’t be comforted.
How could she have got it so wrong? He’d been lying all along. The profound conversations they’d had about the meaning of life until dawn had been all for show. The emotionally, physically amazing sex had been a sham. She’d been in love with a liar and she only had herself to blame.
Laurie left the bedroom and shut the door. They had been dark days. Dark days that she’d fought to leave behind her. And they were behind her. Laurie thought back to the person she’d once been sobbing over at Nice airport and she felt as if she were looking back on a stranger.
She was over Sam, she reminded herself, sternly. These feelings she’d been having were no more than were to be expected as the result of hideous coincidence. Seei
ng Sam was bound to make her remember the past. But the past was just that: the past. There was nothing to be gained from even thinking about it.
Everything was different now, she reminded herself, as she put on her sarong in the hallway, leaving her suitcase exploded on the floor. It took some mental effort to leave it like that, but she made herself do it. She wasn’t going to creep around Rachel’s house for weeks on end, like a guilty servant, she was going to enjoy herself. And right now, all she needed was to swim. It would clear her head and stop these feelings, these painful memories she had no intention of reliving.
It was only halfway down the steep bumpy slope through the trees that she looked up and got her first glimpse of the sandy cove below. And what she saw made her momentarily forget her experience in the room upstairs. The beach was completely deserted, apart from a dilapidated boathouse which nestled against the far rocks, up from the shoreline. What if the boathouse could be used as a studio? she wondered. It would be absolutely perfect!
Gasping with delight, she ran down the rest of the way, ripping off her sarong and flinging it on the sand. Then she strode into the warm water, diving under the small rippling waves. As she stood up, her toes grasped the sand on the bottom and her skin tingled all over at the touch of the water.
What the hell, she thought, looking around her, before slipping out of her bikini, scrunching it up in a ball and flinging it, so that it landed with a splat on the sand. It was time to live a little. Lying back in the water, she let her ears fill with the sound of the sea, feeling the sun on her skin, as she floated.
But her thoughts weren’t so easily calmed. All this – this villa, this private beach, this new family of hers – was all too strange. Why had she gone to Tony’s funeral? she wondered. What quirk of fate had driven her to pay her respects to a man she’d never met? She still couldn’t fathom it. She thought about Tony, about her lost uncle as she looked up at the view that must have once given him so much pleasure. And then she thought about his coffin in the small Somerset church.
