by Marian Phair
Having combed his hair she held him up to the mirror on the wall, while he admired his own reflection, a shy grin on his little face.
Glancing back into the room as they left, it suddenly dawned on her what had struck her before as strange about his room. Apart from the mirror its walls were bare and there were no books, no playthings, no toys at all, not even a teddy bear. Nothing!
Once down stairs, Amie sought out Millie, and asked her how to get to the beach. “The beach is in La Pineda, Salou” said Millie, “it is about two miles away and you turn left at the gates, and go straight on down the hill where you can’t miss it.“ Getting down to the beach would not be too difficult, but Amie did not relish a two mile walk back up the hill in the heat.
‘I doubt if we could make it on foot, Amie mused as I’m sure Peter’s little legs would soon tire and I could not carry him. “Is there a bus we could take?” she asked.
“You can get a bus just outside the main gate,” replied Millie. “And across the road, there is a bus into Salou every fifteen minutes, where you can get off at the beach. Then there is a bus to Tarragona, which I think it is every hour. It passes through La Pineda and Salou, and either one will bring you to the beach. If you need any currency changing, there’s an exchange booth next to the zoo, on the main road.”
“Oh what an idiot I am,” said Amie, I only have sterling, I never thought about the difference in the currency.”
Telling them to wait, Millie disappeared for a few moments, and then returned carrying a purse, opened it and dropped a few coins into Amie’s hand.
“Bus fare for you,” she said, “Peter won’t need any, and if you wait a few minutes, I will get Jose to make up a picnic basket, as you have just missed a bus anyway.” Amie took Peter’s hand.
“Would you like to go for a picnic on the beach where we could paddle in the water too?” she asked him. He nodded his head shyly, and not letting go of her hand, he stood looking up at her. Turning, she said, “Thank you Millie, it is very kind of you, and I will return your money as soon as I can exchange some of my own.”
“No need for thanks, it’s nothing,” Millie told her and smiling, disappeared into the kitchen.
Amie sat down, pulling an unresisting Peter onto her lap. Taking his tiny hand she turned it palm up and did ‘Round and round the garden, like a teddy bear,’ on it. When she got to ‘tickle him under there,’ she tickled him under his armpit. He squirmed in her lap, laughing out loud and uttered his first words to her. “Again, again, do it again,” he begged.
Millie returned, carrying a picnic basket and a beach towel.
“There you are, now off you two go and enjoy yourselves.” She handed the things to Amie, who smiled her thanks, and they left to get the bus.
During the short bus ride, Peter sat with his little nose pressed up against the window pane, staring out at the view.
“Look!” he suddenly exclaimed, digging Amie sharply in the ribs with his bony little elbow, “a doggie.” He pointed at the window, and Amie looked out and saw a man walking an Alsatian on a lead. “Wow! So it is,” she said making her eyes all big and round to please him.
They spent the morning on the beach. Jose had made some delicious sandwiches for them, and had thoughtfully put in some apples, bottled water and fruit juice. Amie taught Peter how to make sand castles, using one of the plastic beakers to pack the sand in. They gathered some pebbles, placing them in a circle round their castle. Amie scooped away some of the sand and they fetched sea water in the beaker, to make a moat. Laughing out loud when the waves, catching them unawares, washed over their feet.
In next to no time it seemed, it was time for Peter’s afternoon nap.
Leaving the beach, the reluctant pair, made their way back on the bus to Rojo Tejado, not wishing to incur Melissa’s wrath.
“If you are a good boy, and go to sleep for me. I will take you to Port Aventura tomorrow,” Amie told him, as she settled him down on his bed.
Peter beamed up at her, his little face alight with happiness.
“I’m a good boy,” he told her, quickly closing his eyes, a broad grin spreading across his face.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The day had passed peacefully enough. Peter had his nap, and Melissa had not yet returned to Rojo Tejado, so Millie suggested a trip into Salou. Amie thought it would be a good time to exchange her currency and to make a few purchases. Enrico brought the limousine round to the front of the house, and the three of them piled into the back. The currency exchange out of the way, Amie returned the bus fare to the protesting Millie. Daisy had brought her up to always pay her debts. They went on a shopping spree, with Amie purchasing two pairs of shorts, allowing ample room for her expanding waistline, and the ‘flip-flops’ she had promised herself. She bought Millie a silver bracelet, with tiny blue stones forming stars at intervals along its chain. She looked around for something for Peter to play with, seeing nothing suitable for a small boy.
“Millie is there a toy shop around here, where I could buy something for Peter?” Millie gave her a warning look, nodding her head in Peter’s direction. Turning to Peter. Amie said, “Why don’t you go and chose some sweets and see if you can find a colouring-in book, while I talk to Millie and we will wait here for you, so don’t worry.” They waited until he had gone to examine the shelves, before speaking.
“Peter has lots of toys, his father spoils him,” Millie told her, speaking in lowered tones, so as not to be overheard by anyone other than Amie.
“The marriage is not a happy one I’m afraid. Melissa resents the attention Peter gets from his father, and she really is as jealous as hell of her son.” Millie looked at Amie, expecting her to show disbelief at her last remark and seeing no change in Amie’s expression, she continued with her story.
“Melissa only allows Peter to play with the toys his father buys for him, when she expects him home. His work takes him away a lot of the time, and sometimes he is gone for weeks on end. As soon as he is out of sight, she takes the toys away from him again.”
“Where does she keep his toys?” Amie asked Millie, wondering how anyone could be so cruel as to spite a child in this way.
“She keeps them in an old cabin trunk in the garage, at the back of the house,” replied Millie, “she keeps other things in there too, and items she does not want others knowing about. I know,” she continued, “because I have seen her putting things in it, only she does not know that I know. She keeps it locked and keeps the key with her.” Millie picked up a magazine, flicking through its pages as she talked, pretending to be looking for something of interest to buy, under the watchful eye of its owner.
“Where is Peter’s father now?” Amie asked, feeling her anger rising, and watching Peter as he carefully made his selections. She wondered how anyone could be cruel to such a sweet little boy, or to any child for that matter.
“I don’t know exactly,” said Millie looking apprehensive, hearing the change in Amie’s voice and fearing she had said too much already. “I think he is somewhere in Europe and like I said, his work takes him away from his family a lot, I have not seen him since we arrived on location here four months ago, he keeps in touch by telephone mostly.”
Peter returned with sweets and a comic book, which was written in Spanish.
“That is not what I told you to get Peter,” said Amie, taking the comic book from him and seeing the look of panic in his eyes, she felt awful. I have frightened the poor little mite she thought, and just when things were going so well between us. Softening her tone of voice, she reassured him by saying, “If you really want this comic book Peter, then you shall have it and a colouring-in book as well. Let’s go see if we can find you one.” Amie looked at Millie over the boy’s head, her green eyes full of the anger she felt.
Surely, Peter’s father must suspect something was not right with the child. He must be aware of his wife’s drinking problem, or did he just turn a blind eye to the situation. Maybe they were both as bad as each othe
r, concerned only with their own selfish needs. Giving Peter the money to pay for his books and sweets, she watched as he stood on tiptoes to reach the counter, proud to be making his own purchases. It occurred to Amie that her child might be better off growing up without a father, especially one like Peter’s. A man who tried to buy his son’s love with toys, when he couldn’t be bothered to put aside any time for him at all. What kind of a man was he, to leave a child with an alcoholic and abusive mother, who in less than forty-eight hours had changed Amie’s idea of marriage and motherhood completely!
“What have I got myself into Millie?” Amie asked her. She told Millie of the incident that had taken place at the breakfast table. Whatever it was, she was going to do her best to make Peter’s life a happier one, and protect him from his mother.
“If she raises her hand to that child again, in or out of my presence, God help her, I will flatten her!” Even as she said it, Amie knew that it would not help Peter’s cause or her own. She calmed down, hoping she would find a way to help the child without disclosing her hand.
Millie could see how angry her revelations had made Amie and tried to pour oil on troubled waters, as they walked along the beach.
“It has not always been this way, there were a few tiffs in the beginning, but they always kissed and made up, it’s only these past eight months or so, things have got steadily worse and they have spent less and less time together.”
Stopping to remove her trainers, Millie banged them together to remove the sand that had worked its way inside. Tying the laces together she slung them over her shoulder, wriggling her bare feet into the warm sand as the three of them strolled along the water front.
Millie had purchased a small inflatable beach ball for Peter, she blew air into it and put in the bung, then handed it to him and he ran ahead of them playing with it. “Don’t worry his mother won’t find it, I will keep it hidden in my room then he can play with it, whenever he wants to, when she’s not around.”
They watched Peter for a moment or two in silence. A young teenage couple walked by hand in hand. Peter kicked his ball, hitting the young man on the back of his leg and turning; he looked down and saw Peter and smiling at him, gently kicked the ball back to him. He spoke to Peter in Spanish, telling him to kick the ball again. Millie found herself acting as interpreter between the two. To the child’s delight, the young man played with him for a few minutes, showing Peter how to kick the ball to make it rise. They kicked the ball to and fro, running to retrieve it when it got away from them, laughing when the ball bounced off Peter’s head. The raven haired girl stood patiently by, watching their antics. Finally having enough, the youth waved goodbye to Peter, said something to the girl that put a huge grin on her face, and the two of them set off arm in arm.
As they strolled along the sand, Millie continued with her tale.
“I have other things hidden for Peter in my room and he plays with them when he gets the chance. I have just bought him some new paints, because Peter loves to paint. I keep an old blouse handy, to wrap around him while he paints, to save his clothes. I make sure any paint he gets on himself is washed off, before his mother sees him.” Millie’s words tumbled over themselves in her haste to let Amie know the game she played with Peter and the hiding places they had to find for his toys. “Peter, unlike most children can keep a secret, the poor little mite knows only too well what the consequences are if Melissa ever found out.”
Peter ran back to them carrying his ball, looking for one of his sweets, before running on ahead of them once more. Millie looked relieved at having found a confidant at last. “Somehow I knew you would be good for Pete, and the moment I saw you step from the car, I instinctively knew you could be trusted and that you had a kind heart. You have a certain look about you, but I can’t explain what it is.”
Coming to a bench they sat down together, Amie called out to Peter telling him to play where they could see him and not to run off. “How long have you been Melissa’s maid?” she asked.
“I have been her maid for two and a half years” Millie replied, “ we met when I was waiting on tables in a café near the college I attended, where I studied Spanish and history. We got talking and she offered me a job, simple as that.”
Taking out a handkerchief and wiping some of the sand from between her toes, Amie spotted the tiny spray of violets neatly embroidered in one of its corners and a picture of Daisy popped into her mind.
She could see her grandmother, head bent over her work, as she carefully embroidered the tiny flowers onto the cotton handkerchief which she had given to Amie as a gift. Shaking the sand from it, Amie slipped it back into her pocket. It was one of the few ‘treasures’ she had, with which to remember Daisy.
“You said earlier that things got really bad a few months ago so what happened?” Amie looked at Millie as she asked the question, noticing how her freckles ran in a little line across her nose. Millie was no great beauty, but she had a pleasant friendly face, and a smile always lurking behind her lips. A fringe of chestnut brown hair mostly hid her pale blue eyes. Millie’s hair was her one redeeming feature, the long shiny locks reaching down to her narrow waist. Today it was unbound, with just a comb each side to keep it off her face. Her small trim figure, dressed in shorts and a pink sleeveless top, helped to make her look younger than her twenty-four years.
“Well, Melissa has always liked a drink and she likes the men too, if you know what I mean. She always flirts with and teases any man who has the misfortune to cross her path. I can’t help feeling a little guilty about telling you these things as it feels a bit like a betrayal.” Millie stopped talking long enough to unwrap one of Peter’s sweets and pop it into her mouth, offering the bag to Amie. Millie played with the sweet wrapper as she continued to give Amie all the gossip about her employers married life.
“A few months ago, Melissa went ballistic. She found evidence on her husband’s clothes, of an affair with another woman. She accused him of cheating on her behind her back. She was really incensed, screaming abuse at him and throwing things.” Millie sucked at her sweet adding, “of course he denied it, but I knew he was lying to her. I took his clothes to the cleaners and they smelt of perfume, not the cheap smelling stuff that Melissa always uses. This was sweet and heady and it smelt expensive.” Millie threw the sweet wrapper onto the sand burying it with her big toe as Amie sat quietly keeping an eye on Peter, waiting for her to continue. “There were makeup stains on his shirt and his jacket too. He told Melissa one of the office girls, messing around at the Christmas party, had kissed him and that must have been how the makeup got on his clothes.” Pausing for breath, Millie sat crunching on the remains of her sweet.
“But it won’t be Christmas for weeks,” said Amie, “We are only just into November now. Surely he did not expect her to believe that tale, I certainly wouldn’t, would you?” How stupid could the man be, expecting his wife to swallow that story? Now she had heard it all. Men!
“It was not an ordinary Christmas do,” Millie told her, “although there are some firms that hold their parties before the holiday period. This was special, the firm was closing down and it was facing bankruptcy. The workers had been paying into a special Christmas fund so it was decided they would go ahead with the party, making it a combined Christmas and farewell bash.” Millie paused to take a drink from the bottle of water she had been carrying, wiping the neck on the hem of her top, she handed the bottle to Amie. “Anyway, after that Melissa REALLY hit the sauce. It was okay for her to fool around, but God help Joe when he tried.”
Peter came over to where they were sitting and said he wanted a ‘pee.’
“Where are the nearest public toilets Millie?” Amie asked.
“There are no public toilets,” replied Millie, “you just go into the nearest café, bar or hotel and use theirs.”
The nearest café was more than five hundred yards back the way they had come. Peter started hopping from one foot to the other; holding on to the front of his sho
rts and Amie knew he would never make it back to the toilet. Taking him by the hand she quickly led him over to the wall supporting the wooden walkway along the sea front. She pulled his shorts down, then lifted him up and held his legs apart allowing him to pee, shielding him with her body from passersby, while he peed against the wall. Someone had used a spray can to write on the wall in large black letters.
‘You are in the Republic of Catalonia and we are NOT part of Spain.’ Amie was beginning to wonder if anything in this life was real, or was everything and everyone masquerading as something else.
Back at the limousine, they found Enrico fast asleep on the back seat.
Putting her fingers to her lips, Millie indicated to Peter and Amie to stay silent. She quietly opened the car door and careful not to make a sound she bent over the sleeping Enrico and putting her mouth close to his ear she shouted.
“Perdone, este asiento esta reservado senor?”
Leaping up in the seat, the startled Enrico banged his head on the roof of the car, looking through half-closed eyes not realising where he was for the moment, then he saw Millie’s grinning face and it dawned on him where he was. He grinned back at her, shaking his fist playfully as he got out of the back seat and into the driver’s seat.
“What did you say to poor Enrico, to make him jump up like that?” Amie asked Millie, laughing.
“I just asked him if the seat was taken that’s all,” Millie grinned.
They continued on their way without further incident.
