by Wendy Steele
Cool, crisp air lifted Lizzie to her feet and she took the bowl in her hand, deep breaths grounding her to the earth and long sighs taking her to a different plane. The Goddess Brigid stood before her, upon the mountain top, high above the earth. The bowl Lizzie held filled with light, a glorious golden glow of power at her fingertips and she lifted it above her head. Clouds spun around them, the travelling wind deafening Lizzie and she turned her head to protect herself and saw the image in the bowl.
She held him close as they wept together on the floor of the ancient church. There was no miraculous cure for Marsha’s ills, only Antonio’s love and care to guide her to a blessed release.
Lizzie sat on a rock below the church, the wind racing through her hair, blowing away the shock and the pain. Telephone conversations with Marsha about her dreams, came flooding back to her. Marsha had been calling out to her. She hoped her responses had helped.
Antonio climbed down and opened his back pack at her feet. They ate oranges and looked out over the landscape to the sea in the distance.
“I am glad you came, Miss Lizzie.”
“So am I.”
“She talks of you often, how you help her and comfort her and cherish her granddaughter.”
“But if she knew…why didn’t she ask me to come before and bring Rowan to see her more often?”
Antonio gently shook his head. “That was my telling, Miss Lizzie but Mrs Martin put her faith in another. She gave him the love and attention, hoping…I don’t know what.”
“And now we’re here, what can we do?”
“You do already. Mrs Martin is proud of Rowan…and you.”
“Not me, I’m afraid. In Marsha’s eyes, I should have been there for her son.”
“She says that, yes, but she is clever woman. Joshua is like his father, she tells me and she was not strong enough to change him. Many times he betrayed her, yet she forgave him for Josh’s sake.”
“But I couldn’t.”
“And she admires you for that.”
“Really?”
“Of course, Miss Lizzie. Your daughter might have become more like her father, but she didn’t, because of you.”
“I hadn’t thought of it like that.”
Antonio handed her a bottle of water. “You are the daughter she wished for.”
“You’re being kind.”
“No, she tells me this. She loves her son. That will never change, however he behaves but she sees you as her daughter.”
Lizzie leaned back, lifting the straw hat onto her head, shielding her face from the sun. “And I’ve always been closer to her than my own mother. It wasn’t only for Rowan’s sake I kept in touch.” Lizzie laughed.
“I’m glad you can smile again.”
“I can because Marsha can and always has. Even with Josh being Josh, time spent with Marsha was happy, relaxing and she was there to talk to. If she hadn’t been on a mission to get the two of us back together, it would have been perfect but I understand. I’ll only have happy memories of Marsha.”
“But not to tell your daughter makes you sad?”
“I’m not good at telling lies.”
“Then do not tell them. Leave what you know here, here on the mountain.”
“I can’t pretend.”
“Why not? That is how Marsha and I spend every day. We pretend medicine is vitamins. We treasure each day as we always have. We laugh. We are pretending but we are living.”
Lizzie nodded, averting her eyes down onto the rocky ground. “You are young but wise, Antonio. Thank you.”
Beside her right boot something glistened. She brushed away the earth and dry grass and a hush fell on the landscape. Skitty clouds banded together above them. They masked the sun on his descent. Lizzie scraped with her fingers and pulled from the earth a perfect globe of quartz.
“How did this get here?” She tipped water over the stone, rolling it in her fingers.
“This place is sacred for all time, Miss Lizzie.”
“And our ancestors climbed these hills to be nearer to their gods and left offerings for them.”
The stone in her palm warmed at her touch. A vision of Brigid upon the mountain sprang into her mind. They left food and drink on the steps of the church and as they hurried to the car, Lizzie knew what she must do.
For two days, Lizzie lived in her dream bubble, pretending as Antonio had taught her. Wrapped tightly in her armour, she laughed in the pool with Rowan, gathered stones from the beach and feathers from the woods around the villa. She admired Bryony’s new clothes and the beaded necklace she had bought for Rowan. She joined Maria in the kitchen, preparing salads and tasting new foods and new flavours.
Marsha was absent the next morning and Antonio explained she was resting, ready for the party that evening.
“We’re going to a party? Wow! How exciting!”
“It’s only for the adults, Rowan,” said her father.
“No way!” Rowan slammed her hand on the table and rose to her feet. “You have to be kidding!”
Joshua grinned. “Get you every time, don’t I?”
“I hate you!” Rowan ran inside.
Lizzie sipped her orange juice and looked up at Antonio. “Where’s the party?”
“The House on the Beach.”
“And we’re all invited?”
“Mrs Martin’s friends are pleased to invite all her family.”
“That’s very kind. Tell Mrs Martin to enjoy her rest and if she wants a hand getting ready, I’d be happy to help.”
“And Mrs Martin will end up looking like a rainbow coloured yacht! You’ll help her get ready tonight, Bryony and you’d better find something for Rowan to wear.”
Wide eyed, Bryony glanced from Josh to Lizzie.
Lizzie shrugged.
“Mrs Martin and I won’t require any assistance, thank you.”
“I said Bryony will help.”
“Mrs Martin is my employer. I take orders from her. Thank you.”
Antonio affected a sharp bow and went indoors.
“Who does he think he is? I’m not taking crap from a servant!”
“Antonio is your mother’s companion and best friend. He is here when you are not. Please leave it.”
“And who the hell are you to tell me what to do?”
Lizzie sipped her orange juice, viewing her ex-husband over the top of the glass. “You’ve been angry all week, Josh. What’s eating you?”
“You! How am I supposed to get on with my life when you keep turning up?”
Josh’s outburst was irrational but Bryony had told Rowan he still had feelings for Lizzie. She sighed. The workings of Josh’s mind had always been a mystery and she resigned herself to the fact they would remain so. She sat on her lounger, her toes wriggling, drawing in her sketchbook. Rowan emerged from the villa and they shared a hug and a swim. Beneath the outdoor shower, they washed the chlorine from their bodies.
“Bryony’s offered for you to look through her wardrobe for tonight, if you fancy it.”
“Cool, I might do that but I doubt it’ll be my style.”
“Kind of her to offer though.”
“She’s really nice but deluded.”
Lizzie laughed. “And how’s that ‘O wise one’?”
Rowan grinned. “She thinks he’ll change, that things will get better but they won’t. Dad’s only interested in himself and that’s one of the reasons he’s being mean.”
“There are others?”
“Plenty but right now, he wants Nanny Martin to give him a shedload of money for some new tour he wants to do and she won’t.”
They lay dry towels on their loungers and sat facing each other.
“Who told you this?”
“Nanny.”
“Right.”
“Dad was going to take me to the beach, while you and Antonio went into the mountains. We were all packed up and saying goodbye to Nanny by the pool when she told him.”
“Can you remember what she said?”<
br />
“Something like, ‘I’ve considered your proposition, Joshua and the answer is no’. Dad freaked out and raced off in the hire car. Nanny apologised for spoiling my afternoon. We talked for a bit and she told me how Dad always goes to her when he needs bailing out or has some new idea. She said he needed to learn to take more responsibility and work his way out of his own problems.”
Lizzie lay back on her lounger. “Sorry you missed your beach trip together. You didn’t tell me.”
Rowan lay back. “Nothing to tell. Par for the course. Dad didn’t get his own way and threw a tantrum like the spoilt child he is, never giving a thought about letting me down. Always the same.”
“Adulting can be hard. It’s not always easy to put your children first when your head is exploding with pressure. Maybe he’s in real financial trouble.”
“Stop making excuses for him, Mum. You’ve had far more to cope with in your life than he ever has. He doesn’t even have a mother like Granny McCartney to deal with!”
The mention of her mother made Lizzie gulp. With the shock of Marsha’s imminent demise, she hadn’t thought about her own mother once.
20
Antonio posted their postcards on the way to the party before driving Marsha, Lizzie and Rowan to their final destination. Joshua and Bryony followed behind in the hire car. Through the wrought iron gates, they joined the queue of long slim shiny black cars pulling slowly up at the front entrance. The grounds were ablaze with fairy lights, hanging in streaming chains, enveloping shrubs and small trees. Warm, sweet smells met their noses as they climbed out. A driver took the keys from Antonio, smart in a plain black suit and white shirt, as he helped Marsha up the six stone steps to the open double doors. She wore a turquoise gown embedded with tiny crystals and a turquoise and silver wrap swathing her neck and trailing down her back. Her hair was set in a smooth twisted chignon, pinned in place and studded with diamanté.
Behind her walked Joshua and Bryony and while Bryony’s long jade green dress was revealing in the extreme, cut high on the leg and low on front and back it was Lizzie and Rowan who caused a susurration in the crowd. In pastel shades of lilacs, peaches and blues, their cotton gowns hung cool and loose, each cinched below the bust with a matching ribbon. They wore their hair up with tendrils of curls framing their faces beneath a matching pastel band.
It was Rowan’s idea to rock the historical look. Lizzie had been nervous at first but Rowan’s confidence was infectious. They walked into the main hall, among the glitz and glamour. Even waiting in the receiving line, they evoked smiles and admiring glances.
Marsha began shaking hands, with Antonio at her elbow, introducing the members of her family.
“Robert, Doreen this is my son, Joshua and his family. Joshua, this is Robert Klein, chief of the lodge here and the host of this evening’s soiree, the annual beach party. ”
“Pleased to meet you, Mr Klein. This is my girlfriend, Bryony and my daughter, Rowan.”
Robert Klein shook hands, peering through thick horn rimmed spectacles. Doreen wafted a hand in acknowledgement before taking her place a step behind her husband. Lizzie caught a glimpse of hazel eyes in a face flushed with alcohol and framed by cotton candy dyed orange. Her red rosebud lips added to the impression that she had hoped for honey and discovered lime instead. For one split second, Doreen’s eyes locked with Lizzie’s and the force of the fear coming from behind them almost knocked Lizzie sideways. Why was this woman afraid of her? They’d never met, she was sure yet Doreen Klein looked ready to run from the room. Doreen drained the remains of her sherry glass and turned away.
Mr Klein pointed at Lizzie. “And who’s she?”
“Elizabeth Martin, my daughter-in-law.”
“Ex daughter-in-law, mother.”
Lizzie’s body produced an involuntary bow and she looked up into studious brown eyes. “Thank you for inviting us, Mr Klein.”
“Robert, please. Delighted to meet you, Elizabeth and you, Rowan. I do hope you enjoy the party. May I introduce you to George Anders, Philip Bergen, Edgar Masters and Errol Coleman.”
Errol was half the age of the others, his blue eyes darting nervously between Elizabeth, Klein and Joshua. He bowed to Rowan who simpered coyly.
“Pleased to meet you, ladies. I do hope you will be available for a dance later this evening.”
Guests talked in groups in the ballroom. Most of the party makers were middle aged men in dinner suits, with duly bedecked women in evening gowns, dripping with jewels. A few men stood out from the crowd. Lizzie guessed them to be foreign dignitaries in bright long shift coats and hats. While they found drinks, Lizzie saw Errol talking to a woman in a full length, scarlet velvet dress edged in gold, her hair coiffured off her neck into a creation of which Marie Antoinette would have been proud.
The house wasn’t on the beach but above it. Lizzie walked down a crooked path, lit by solar lights and lamp posts, across a grassy lawn and down a meandering, gently sloping slipway, before she found herself with sand between her toes. Shoes in hand, she stood looking at the ocean. No lights were visible from the house but the almost full moon shone over the dark water.
Rowan was dancing with Bryony. The huge wooden veranda jutted out from the ballroom to make an outdoor dance floor. The band played swing, rock and roll and jazz as well as a waltz and a quick step or two. Music drifted down to her and she swayed beneath the stars.
“You’re not enjoying the party?”
Lizzie spun round, her shoes raised in one hand like a weapon. “Sorry, Mr Coleman. You startled me.”
Lizzie turned back to the sea. The smell of expensive cologne came closer. “It’s a great party, honestly but the sea beckoned me the moment I saw it from the veranda. I’m not much of a dancer so I thought I’d take a walk.”
“I don’t mind. I love the sea too. We lived close to it when I was a child, before we moved to London.”
“But you live here now?”
“Part of the year. Since my father passed away, I have his business to attend to both here and in England.”
“I’m sorry to hear you lost your father. I’m sure he would be proud of you, taking on so much responsibility so young.”
Errol sighed and bowed his head. “I was born and brought up to it but it doesn’t always make me happy.” He held out his arm. “Can I walk you to the shoreline?”
Lizzie clung to muscles bulging beneath the designer jacket and pristine white shirt. “Thank you.”
“What about you? Are you happy, Ms Martin?”
“I am, Mr Coleman. Most of the time. I enjoy my job, I love my daughter and I’ve found time to paint again.”
“Errol, please, but you still have an ex-husband.”
“I haven’t seen him in years, or spoken to him, before this week.”
“Yet you bear his name.”
“For Rowan’s sake. It’s much easier for her at school.”
“I see.”
“He usually brings Rowan to Marsha’s, Mrs Martin’s, in the summer but she invited us both this year. I’m glad. It’s been lovely seeing her and spending time with Rowan without worrying about work, meals or the gas bill!”
She laughed.
“What’s funny?”
They stood at the water’s edge. Errol took off his shoes.
“I was thinking how impressed you must be with my exciting life. I’m too honest, that’s my problem.”
It may have been the flute of champagne or the warm evening breeze but Lizzie relaxed, surprised at her openness with a stranger. On the beach, beneath the moon, who needed armour? She lifted her skirts and they stood in the shallows beneath the moon, cool water brushing their calves.
“If being honest is all you worry about, Elizabeth, then I envy you.”
“Call me Lizzie. Only my mother calls me Elizabeth but Errol, what do you mean?”
“You’ve eyes. When you go back to the party, open them.”
Errol’s chiselled face was serious, his cheeks hollo
w and drawn. Pain screamed from his pale blue eyes and she took both his hands.
“What do you mean?”
Errol shook his head and turned from her. “I’ll walk you back.”
Lizzie pulled him round to face her. “What’s wrong, Errol? Can’t you tell me?”
He extended his arm and she took it.
“My father’s name was Coleman. He worked for Anita and her husband all his life. Now I work for them.”
“Anita is the lady in the red dress?”
Errol nodded.
“Just work?”
Errol turned away as he leaned on a rock and brushed sand from his feet. “I do whatever the job asks of me.”
Lizzie sought Rowan and found her sitting beside Marsha on the veranda at the side of the house. A patio heater warmed the cosy spot and they were deep in conversation when Lizzie appeared.
“Where’ve you been, Mum?”
“I couldn’t resist the beach, sorry. You having fun?”
“I was! Bryony and I were dancing but Dad took her away. Said he needed her.”
“Sorry you missed out on your dancing. You having fun, Marsha?”
“I love all the glitz, dear, you know I do but my pins don’t hold me as well as they used to so my dancing days are over.”
“I reckon you could manage a waltz, Nanny.”
Marsha Martin took a sip of her drink and looked up at Antonio standing behind her and smiled. “You’re right, Rowan and that sounds like one to me.”
By the light of the moon, Lizzie and Rowan watched Marsha and Antonio dancing on the veranda. He held her, protecting her delicate porcelain body, gently moving her to the beat of the music, pushing his legs close to hers. Lizzie saw Errol glancing their way and watched his easy gait as he sauntered over.
