by Viva Jones
Her novel, she thought. Why shouldn’t she be able to write a novel? She opened the bottle of oils Nathalie had given her and inhaled the scent. Her mind raced. Having told everyone she was writing about Aphrodite, there had to be some kind of parallel she could draw. A beautiful young girl, growing up on the sunshine isle, having to be married off to some old duffer. She has affairs left, right and centre. An arranged marriage, set in Cyprus? Now Anna started to get excited. A beautiful Turkish girl, and the whole thing could be set in northern Cyprus, in the seventies, against a backdrop of the invasion.
She typed her ideas furiously at the keyboard. A young Turkish girl married to a man old enough to be her father. She has an affair with a Greek boy. A coming-of-age novel set against the backdrop of the Turkish invasion, didn’t publishers love that kind of thing? Of course, Anna would have to do her research, but then, wasn’t she in exactly the right place to do so? And wouldn’t this provide her with exactly the perfect excuse to spend time with Nathalie? They could cross the border together, explore the north, find locations, spend nights in secluded hotels together - why would anyone suspect, least of all Richard?
Why not a Greek girl, Anna thought suddenly. Why not push the boundaries, break all the taboos? A young Turkish girl has an affair with a Greek girl, and they get separated during the invasion, only to lead very different lives and reunite in later life, each never having stopped loving the other?
She was straying out of Aphrodite territory and straight into Sappho, Anna realised, but she didn’t care. If writing her novel gave her the opportunity to spend all day thinking about her lover, dwelling on silky flesh, soft smooth thighs, soft laughter, warm caresses, tender nipples - then a lesbian novel this would be. A lesbian - was that really what Anna had become? She shook her hair out of her eyes, deciding not to care about convention. Anna felt alive for the first time since she could remember, as if she’d awakened at last from a long coma. Nathalie’s touch had brought her back to life.
Chapter Thirteen
Nathalie drove to the harbour and parked near some fishing boats that were moored up for the night. Then she strolled further along the promenade, admiring the yachts in the marina, white and sleek and shiny, and imagined the stories that each might tell. On some, owners were enjoying a drink in the evening sun; on others, crew members cleaned, having chosen the coolest time of day to get repairs done. As one yacht slowly started to pull out, Nathalie longed to jump aboard, stow away and see where the adventure took her.
But the sights on land captivated her, too. Gulls swooping down to peck at a discarded fish head, cats skulking in the shadows, parents playing with their children - Nathalie drank everything in, relieved to be a part of it all. A soft breeze rustled through her hair and the sun, gentler now, stroked her skin.
She had a new lover; she’d got the release she’d so needed. And Anna was an attentive and an eager lover, keen to do anything, try anything, and to please her. Had she made a mistake, finding sex so close to home? They’d assured each other that things wouldn’t get too serious, but Nathalie knew from experience that assurances were easier to make than to keep.
Suddenly a familiar figure appeared, trotting in ridiculously inappropriate sandals towards one of the yachts.
‘Tanya? What are you doing here?’
‘Just visiting a client,’ she replied, her face flushing. ‘Even after they’ve agreed to buy they’re always nitpicking. He wants to go over the plumbing today, apparently. And he’s very rich, so he always gets what he wants,’ she added, nodding towards the Leila.
Nathalie followed her eyes to the yacht, which was one of the most ostentatious in the marina, more like a small cruise liner. ‘A nice place for a meeting, though,’ she suggested.
‘Yes,’ Tanya said doubtfully.
‘Lovely dress you’re wearing.’
‘Oh, this?’ The girl sounded embarrassed. ‘It was a present, basically, well, you know, a sort of a gift.’
‘How lucky you are.’
As Tanya shifted awkwardly in her heels, a figure emerged on deck.
‘Tanya, my dear, I am ready for you,’ it said. Nathalie turned to see Mr Maktabi, in a short-sleeved white shirt and beige shorts, watching them.
‘There he is, best not to keep him waiting,’ Tanya said with an awkward giggle. ‘Have a nice evening.’
‘Who is your friend?’ He called out. ‘She want to join us?’
‘No, no, thank you,’ Nathalie answered hurriedly. ‘I’m just meeting someone.’ She smiled and gave them both a half-hearted wave before quickly backing away.
Suddenly the yachts held less appeal, and Nathalie turned her attention instead to the Sunset Bar, which looked particularly inviting with its terrace facing out to sea. She found an empty table and ordered a glass of white wine, but, distracted by the sound of a child crying, she looked up, only to see Richard emerge onto the terrace, a beer in his hand, scouring the tables for an empty one. As he spotted her, he gave her a sheepish smile, before approaching.
‘Not bothering you, am I?’ he asked, indicating the spare chair.
‘I’m happy for the company.’
‘Couldn’t resist a beer on the way home,’ he admitted. ‘I know I oughtn’t to, but it was just too tempting. I’m supposed to be on a new regime, you see. Twenty lengths in the pool after work, but sometimes, you know, when the light hits the water like that, you just want to have a long cold drink and admire it, don’t you?’
Nathalie agreed.
‘But I’d prefer it all the same if you didn’t mention this to Anna,’ he continued. ‘Only I told her I was running late at the office. She’d kill me if she found out.’
‘It’s not illegal to have a drink after work, is it?’
‘She wouldn’t be happy, anyway.’ He took a sip. ‘Although sometimes I think she wouldn’t even notice if I didn’t come home at all.’
‘Immersed in her work,’ Nathalie suggested. ‘That artistic temperament.’
‘Yes, yes, I suppose you’re right.’ Richard looked at the marina thoughtfully. ‘Can never understand it myself. All those boats moored there. Why aren’t they out at sea? Why aren’t they sailing around the Greek islands, or darting in and out of Turkish bays? Why would anyone spend so much money on a boat, only to leave it in the harbour?’
Nathalie was intrigued. ‘So where would you go, if money and time were no object?’
‘Me? Oh, I don’t know, anywhere really. The destination wouldn’t even bother me, it’s about the journey, isn’t it? All that sea air, the sense of purpose. Being in charge of your own destiny, yet prepared to go where the wind takes you. A bit like you, really. Why conform, when there’s a whole world out there?’
‘Why indeed?’ Nathalie sipped her wine, the memory of Richard’s wife’s tongue bringing her to orgasm still fresh in her mind.
‘Anna told me you two have been having lunch these last few days,’ Richard said. ‘That’s wonderful news. She needs company. The writing’s all a cover if you ask me. That sounds terribly disloyal, and no-one would be more delighted than me if it worked out, but she hasn’t got the stamina to finish a book. She just needs to feel good about herself.’ Richard’s mobile rang. ‘Hello darling, yes, on my way home now, just leaving the office. Anything you’d like me to pick up for you? Chicken? How delicious. In that case, I’ll be right back.’
He finished his beer quickly. ‘As much as I hate to leave a woman drinking alone, my wife has prepared me supper. Which makes this a very special day.’
‘Delighted to hear it.’ Nathalie kissed him on each cheek. ‘Have a wonderful evening. And give my love to Anna.’
She watched as he left. Come on, Richard, she thought. Tell Anna what happened, don’t keep it to yourself. She got a flash, a vision of something, or someone, a humiliation, a misunderstanding. Something had broken Richard�
��s spirit, something so painful he couldn’t even share it with his wife. But what? What could possibly have gone so badly wrong?
***
At number three, a depressed Ginnie opened a bottle of wine, a ritual she’d longed for all afternoon. With every cat they had to put down, a little bit of her positive nature died. She felt she was letting them all down, and that life was cruel and unfair. She drank some wine, feeling the liquid flow through her body and soothe her, and with every sip, the pain of the day’s events receded.
She wanted to do something positive but her internet searches didn’t come up with much, and she quickly began to feel defeated. If only there was a wealthy cat-lover on the island, a philanthropist who’d enjoy putting their money to good use. She searched and slurped, forgetting her half-bottle rule. Getting distracted, she read the papers, found a few gossip sites and did a bit of shopping. That always cheered her up. She caught herself opening a second bottle - well, she had said goodbye to two cats that day - and perusing a couple of dating websites, not that she’d try that again.
It was another long and lonely evening in interminable heat, Ginnie thought, taking another long sip. A gorgeous man would come her way soon. He was out there, somewhere, looking for her. She poured herself a glass of water to help dilute the wine. She was cutting back, really she was, she told herself. But like chocolates or cake, the bottles nagged at her until they were gone. Once she’d removed all temptation she’d be free.
She was allowed this indulgence.
***
Nathalie found a quiet-looking beach restaurant and ordered some grilled fish and a salad and another glass of wine to go with them. The meal was simple but good, and she took her time over it. It felt more real than any of the places she used to go to with Tom, where the emphasis had been on design over taste.
She paid the bill and decided on one last stroll along the promenade. As she set off, she was suddenly aware of her solitude. All around her there were couples and families, enjoying their evening walks in the sunset. She could almost feel their looks of pity. A few men, she couldn’t help but notice, tried to catch her eye. She ignored them.
She was reminded of her walks home along the high street, and of her absolute certainty that one day she’d be single again. Even in the happier times, even before the rot set in, she’d always known.
‘Mummy, I’m getting tired.’ A little hand tugged at her own.
‘So am I, my darling. Let’s go home.’
She headed back to her car in the darkening sky. She hovered for a moment at the marina, wondering whether Tanya was still onboard. A woman’s shriek caught her attention, and she turned to see where it was coming from. In the entrance of a two-star hotel, Nathalie saw a plump girl wearing a dress so tight it could barely stretch over her and so short it hardly covered her bottom. She had her back to her, and Nathalie could make out a tattoo of a snake on one shoulder. She was shouting at a person she herself was obscuring. She had long, badly dyed hair and held a cigarette in her fingers which she was jabbing, dangerously, at her companion.
‘You bad man,’ Nathalie heard her yelling. ‘How you do this to me? You say I special, you say I the best. You lie to me, always lies, lies.’
Poor cow, Nathalie thought with a smile. Poor silly drunk cow.
She could hear a man’s voice, now, speaking low, trying to reason with her and calm the woman down. Nathalie carried on walking, keeping them in her sight.
Then the man emerged, and Nathalie was caught by surprise. It was Douglas.
He saw her too, and acknowledged her awkwardly. The girl turned fiercely in her direction, and Nathalie could see that her eyes were streaked with mascara, and her plump cheeks were flushed red.
She carried on walking. There was no point in getting involved. Whatever Douglas had got himself caught up in, he could get himself out of it.
She reached her car and drove slowly away from the harbour, taking a side road which led to the main route heading north. There, she saw Douglas again, only this time he was trying to reason with two unshaven and angry-looking men, the tattooed girl watching on. She didn’t want to intervene, but the glint of steel in one of the men’s hands persuaded her. Slowing down until she reached them, she leant across and quickly opened the passenger door.
‘Douglas - get in!’ she barked.
Without hesitating, Douglas darted from his persecutors and threw himself into her car. Before the others could react Nathalie had driven off at speed, storming through a red light and narrowly missing a kerb.
‘A lot of fuss over nothing, really,’ Douglas, wiping the sweat off his brow. ‘Typical Slavic over-reaction if you ask me.’
‘I didn’t ask,’ Nathalie told him, keeping an eye on her rear view mirror. ‘And whatever trouble you’re in, I don’t want to know about it.’
Douglas fastened his seat belt, looking sheepish. ‘I owe you one.’
‘They had a knife,’ she told him coldly. ‘They were going to use it.’
‘Then I owe you my life,’ he told her simply. ‘I’m in your debt for ever. Whatever you want, just name it and it’ll be yours.’
Nathalie shot him a look. ‘Don’t tempt me,’ she said.
***
At number eight, Richard was getting ready for bed. Anna was already under the sheets, ignoring him. How beautiful she looked, Richard thought, when she didn’t realise she was being watched; bare of any make up and just lost in her own world. He felt a surge of love his wife, mixed with a trace of guilt. Bumping into Nathalie like that had stirred feelings up in him that he didn’t want to acknowledge. What if he had an affair, he thought. Would that help him to move on?
He couldn’t do it, though, not that he seriously believed Nathalie would be up for it, anyway. He loved his wife, and his marriage was important to him. He climbed into bed beside her and gently nuzzled her neck. She squirmed away, irritated. He allowed his hand to roam under the sheet, fondling her breast affectionately.
‘Oh Richard, do you have to?’ she asked without looking up.
‘I’m sorry, I thought that the chicken, the wine, I thought that perhaps you wanted to - ‘
‘I wanted a decent meal, that’s all.’
He slumped back, defeated. ‘What’s happening to us? We used to have a good time. I want all that back.’
This was how she’d felt, once, he remembered, and he’d been unable to answer her, too immersed in his own pain. How could he undo all the harm he’d done?
‘Yes, we did. Then we got married, remember, and you changed.’
‘I know I did, Anna, and I can’t tell you how sorry I am. But I need you, and I love you. We’ve got to try harder. I’m terrified of losing you. We’ve got to make an effort.’ He pressed his hand on Anna’s stomach. ‘A baby? Maybe a baby would bring us together?’
She turned to him, irritated. ‘Richard, you’re the one who can never finish what he’s started. How are we going to have a baby, IVF? Anyway, I want a writing career, not a baby. You’ve just got to face it, you’re the one who changed. You can’t just go hot and cold on me like that.’
‘I know, and I’m sorry,’ he said, trying to hide his despair. ‘I’m so very sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you, Anna, that’s the last thing I wanted. Come on, let’s try to get back what we once had. I love you so much.’ He started nuzzling her neck again, and she pushed him away.
‘I’m not in the mood.’
‘Then let me get you in the mood. Come on, darling. It’s important.’
Angrily, she threw her hands above her head and opened her legs. ‘Go on, then, if you must.’
It wasn’t the way he’d wanted, but Richard was determined. And how badly he wanted her, despite her coldness. He climbed on top, kissing her and stroking her, trying to regain something of what they’d both lost.
‘
Anna, I do love you,’ he whispered, as reluctantly, she wrapped him in her arms.
‘I love you, too,’ Anna agreed with a sigh, kissing him back. She didn’t want to lose him. Her new life as a lesbian might be thrilling her, but it terrified her, too. She needed a man, and the security of a husband. She had to make the effort. If she thought of Nathalie, she might even enjoy it. But as he moved to climb on top of her, Richard trapped some of her hair under his elbow, and she yelped out in pain. The weight of his body practically crushed her rib-cage, and Anna tried to conceal her irritation.
They had to stay a unit, whatever happened, she told herself. They’d made their vows.
Richard closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of his wife, but his thoughts drifted towards Nathalie, and her smile, and those wise green eyes. Chancing on her like that in the Sunset, what if that happened again? What if they’d crossed the road and gone into a hotel, what if she’d undressed him, dropping to her knees to take him in her mouth? Richard’s cock grew hard at the thought, while his fingers slipped between Anna’s thighs. What if this was Nathalie’s pussy, he thought, what if this was her lying beside him? She’d be kissing him, encouraging him, she’d be welcoming him inside her, with that warm smile and those smooth tanned arms. He imagined their tongues entwining, the feel of her breasts at his hands. Richard pushed his cock inside and felt he was possessing Nathalie, felt her body warm under his, imagined her nerve-ends reacting and responding to him, imagined her rising and pushing and grinding into him.
Underneath, Anna had settled into a fantasy that Nathalie was eating her dripping wet pussy, that they were out on the rocks by the sea, in full view, and Nathalie was forcing her to orgasm, showing the world how much she worshipped Anna’s wet cunt; but before she could get fully aroused, Richard collapsed with a cry, sighing his hot, dank breath all over her face.
