Waves of Betrayal (The Isabel Marsh Trilogy Book 1)

by Michelle J. Bennett

  Louise hears her daughter’s sudden ragged intake of breath. ‘Listen love, I didn’t mean to upset you. He doesn’t know that you are in Spain and it’s better that it stays that way. Don’t start getting all forgiving and sentimental. If he’s done it once, he’ll do it again. He’s lost your trust and we’re all so lucky that you are still alive, remember that.’ Louise sighs heavily. ‘Are you still there, darling?’

  Isabel is still imagining Paul pleading with her parents, repenting, and she knows that it’s probably wrong but she just wants to take him in her arms and forgive him. Surely everyone deserves a second chance?

  ‘Iz, are you there?’

  ‘Yes, yes, sorry mum. Phone line isn’t that clear. What were you going to say?’

  ‘Well, some good news actually. We had an invitation, well your father did really, from his old friend and fellow lecturer. You may remember his son, Marcos? He gave you lessons oh, years and years ago,’ Louise says casually.

  ‘Marcos?’ Isabel repeats. Do I remember him? Ha!

  ‘Yes, you took a bit of a shine to him, if I remember rightly! Anyway, you were both only young, I doubt you’d even remember what he looked like?’

  ‘Hmmmm, not really,’ Isabel lies, holding the phone against her shoulder and pulling threads out of the bandage around her healing fingers.

  ‘Well, your father and I are coming to Málaga in a few days. His family and friends are having a party for him. He’s just got engaged to an English girl out there.’ Isabel suddenly feels stupid, immature and for some inexplicable reason, on the verge of tears again.

  ‘We thought we’d pick you and Rachel up and take you along? I’m sure they’d love to see you. I’m sure that two extra guests won’t make a difference. It’s a pool party and barbecue at his parent’s villa in the mountains near Málaga,’ Louise continues, unaware of her daughters’ discomfort.

  ‘What the hell happened to you?’ asks Rachel, concerned, rubbing her hair with her beach towel and lowering herself onto the edge of Isabel’s lounger, ‘Iz??’

  ‘Oh Rach,’ sniffs Isabel, ‘I don’t know where to start! How can so much happen in just fifteen minutes! I was having so much fun and then my bloody mum phones and my whole world is turned upside down again...! Sorry to be so melodramatic,’ she adds miserably, thumping the mattress and examining her pink toenail polish as if all the answers to her happiness lay somewhere on her feet.

  ‘Rach, there’s a bar just up there with tall benches and tables. We can kick off our flip-flops in the shade and swing our legs above the sand... and have a few drinks?!!’ says Isabel, with a hint of desperation and sadness in her voice.

  ‘Looks like you need one or two! Come on let’s pay and move on, eh?’

  Chapter 16

  Craig and Paul lounge on his big white leather sofa’s in his top floor apartment in Harbury, watching Man United vs Liverpool on a wide screen TV.

  ‘Another beer mate?’ asks Craig as he jumps up energetically from the sofa towards the huge, white and chrome open-plan kitchen with views over the immaculate communal gardens.

  ‘I’ll have one if you are’ says Paul, staring at his mobile.

  ‘Mate, she’ll text you when she’s ready. It’s like you said, there’s no point in hassling her. She’s pretty pissed-off with you right now and by the sound of things, she was mighty messed up in that accident.’

  ‘I know. You’re right!’ Paul exhales, sitting up on the sofa with renewed confidence and cracking open the can of lager that he takes from his friend. ‘I’ll play the waiting game, if it means I have a chance of getting her back.’

  ‘Whooo you’ve got it bad!’ laughs Craig, as he settles back onto his sofa with a sarcastic smile on his face. ‘Should have kept your dick in your pants if you wanted to keep a girl like Izzy. She’s class, man.’

  ‘I know, I know. I don’t need anyone to remind me! I am a total wanker and do not deserve her...’ mutters Paul, taking a long swig from his can.

  ‘Bet she was a good shag though, eh?’ he winks, raising his beer, saluting his friend. ‘Fine little figure of a girl that Jules. The only reason I never gave it a go was because I thought that bloke she lives with was her fella!’ he laughs loudly.

  ‘I’m not proud of what I did Craig. In fact, it has been the most stupid, biggest mistake of my life so far.’ He shakes his head, ‘but don’t you worry, I won’t cramp your style for too long mate, you’ll see! I’ll be back at the cottage with my girl... as it should be.’

  Paul suddenly stands up, grabs his car keys from the coffee table and heads for the door. ‘Won’t be long. Just popping out for a bit. Need me to pick anything up?’

  ‘No worries. Just as long as you fetch me another beer from the fridge if I can’t make it over there by the time you’re back!’ he laughs as Paul heads out of the flat.

  He drives the fifteen-minute drive over to Isabel’s parents’ house with renewed determination. ‘I need to see her,’ he says to himself. ‘Maybe then I can make her understand how much I need her?’

  Louise opens the door with the chain still on as she had seen Paul’s red car pull up on to their drive. She doesn’t even give him a chance to speak. He is taken aback by the fire in the voice of this mild mannered woman whom he thought he knew so well.

  ‘I suggest you leave, Paul. We have nothing to say to you. Isabel is not here so there’s no point in trying to push your way into the house. Just leave us alone!’

  ‘Louise, please, you don’t understand! I love Isabel so much, I want to marry her. I know what I did was a terrible, terrible thing, but we love each other. I just need a chance to talk to her. Please...’ he begs, raising his voice and beating his fist against the door frame in frustration.

  Louise steps back from the door as Duncan appears behind her and tells her to go back inside.

  ‘Duncan, you’ll understand. You know how much I love your daughter? I just need to speak to her. She’ll forgive me, I know she will. We are meant to be together. I wouldn’t be here making a total fool of myself, right here on your doorstep, if I didn’t love her so desperately...’ he leans his head forward against the door, looking as if he may crumple to his knees, tears flowing freely down his cheeks now.

  ‘Paul I’m sorry lad, but I’m afraid that you must understand how badly you have betrayed Isabel, all of us. She could have been killed. You do realise that? Leave her alone. Give her time to recover.’

  ‘But where is she?’ he sobs.

  ‘Away, Paul. We’re not going to tell you where but she’ll be back when she’s ready, ok? That’s all you need to know. Take the back lanes and drive carefully son, I can smell beer on your breath. If the police stop you, you’ll lose your license on top of everything else, now pull yourself together.’

  Duncan shuts the door calmly but firmly in Paul’s face and heads back into the house to help Louise with the packing.

  Chapter 17

  Isabel and Rachel wander along the promenade and stop outside the bar that Isabel had seen. It’s a dark wooden building with folding glass windows on the bottom deck and a large rectangular bar in the centre, surrounded by black tables set out for lunch with white, linen napkins and wine glasses. They walk up the ramp, smiling at the barmen as they welcome them in English. ‘Is it that obvious?!’ whispers Rachel.

  Isabel leads the way up a few steps to the upper deck and swings her legs over the padded bench so that she is facing out towards the sea with her legs dangling above the sand. Rachel removes her flip flops and joins her, leaning her elbows on the narrow shelf in front of them, serving as a table. ‘This is great,’ she says.

  The blinds are all drawn back so that it is totally open to the sea breeze and it offers the perfect spot to perch and people-watch. The waiters are all dressed in fitted white shorts and black polo shirts and they effortlessly deliver huge silver trays, laden with drinks, to the tables below.

  ‘Hello ladies, what can I get you?’ asks the Spanish waiter in perfect English. It is ob
vious from Rachel’s hesitation and flushed cheeks that his good looks and toned, tanned arms have not gone un-noticed!

  ‘Two mojitos please,’ smiles Isabel, as Rachel continues to stare.

  ‘Rach!!’ whispers Isabel, nearly pushing her friend off the bench, ‘could you possibly have made that any more obvious??!’

  They both laugh as Rachel regains her balance and promises to behave like the happily engaged wife-to-be that she is!

  ‘I doubt very much that he’d be interested in you anyway Rach,’ Isabel grins as she points to the flags flying next to the bar. Amongst the many nationalities, waving high in the breeze, is the Rainbow flag.

  ‘Surely you know what the Rainbow flag means?!’ asks Isabel, smiling.

  ‘No... what?!’ Rachel asks naively, as Isabel rests her forehead in her hand and shakes her head.

  ‘Gay pride, Rach!’

  ‘ooooohhhhhhh,’ says Rachel as the penny drops, ‘well, I suppose that explains it. They’re all gorgeous!’ she laughs.

  The ice cold mojitos are delivered by the same waiter, grinning with his perfect white teeth. ‘Speciality of the house,’ he announces proudly as he positions the drinks gently on the little table in front of them and gives them a cheesy wink.

  ‘They look amazing, thank you,’ says Rachel, genuinely impressed as she takes the straw between her fingers and begins to stir the sugary residue that has settled in the bottom of the glass.

  ‘De nada, guapa,’ he says, as he brushes his hand across Rachel’s shoulder and spins happily on his heels back towards the bar.

  ‘Woooahhh, this is seriously strong!’ says Rachel. ‘Definitely not imperial measures!’

  They sit in comfortable silence for a while, enjoying the sweet, minty drinks and watching the windsurfers bouncing acrobatically over the waves. The bar is getting busy and the tables are quickly filling up with groups of people ordering all sorts of delicious looking wraps, seafood, and mountains of creative salads.

  Rachel is the first to break the silence. ‘Maybe we should come here for lunch tomorrow? The food looks gorgeous,’ she says, her eyes fixed on the biggest smoked salmon platter that she has ever seen.

  ‘Paul’s been hammering on your door trying to find out where I am,’ says Isabel suddenly, in a flat voice. ‘He went to my mum and dad’s and cried apparently,’ she continues without expression, ‘and Marcos, the man I have dreamed about for the last thirteen years since my dad kicked him out of our house, is getting engaged...’

  Rachel turns and stares at the side of her friends face. She holds the straw between her fingers, unsure of what to say or ask first. After a few seconds of silence, she raises her hand and holds up two fingers to the man at the bar, signalling for more drinks.

  With fresh drinks in front of them, Isabel looks up at her friend and mutters sadly, ‘I don’t know what to do, Rach.’

  ‘The first question on the tip of my tongue honey is who is Marcos and why have you never mentioned him before??’ Rachel asks gently, folding one leg up on the bench so that she can face her friend.

  ‘He’s the son of one of my dad’s friends,’ says Isabel quietly, gazing out to the horizon, ‘he was studying English in Plymouth so my dad asked him to give me Spanish lessons after school. I was twelve and he was sixteen. It was fun, I liked him. Then we grew up. I was fourteen and he was eighteen. I started to see him differently, I suppose.’ Rachel nods seriously, encouraging her to continue. ‘I suppose you could say that I developed my first crush,’ Isabel smiles fondly at the innocent memory.

  ‘What happened Iz? Your dad doesn’t strike me as the sort of man who kicks people out of his home for no reason,’ she asks, taking a noisy drink through her straw.

  ‘I thought that I was imagining things when he began to flirt with me, until one day his expression changed. At first I thought he was angry with me, but I mistook this for passion. I didn’t resist. His hands were all over me, exploring beneath my school shirt...’ she blushes, avoiding Rachel’s eyes, ‘I wasn’t afraid. He was so intense. His eyes, he had beautiful blue eyes...’

  ‘And..?’

  ‘And nothing. That was it. Nothing really happened, although it might have, if my father hadn’t come into the room. I just remember feeling totally mortified when I saw the shock on his face. The disgrace. I never saw Marcos again,’ Isabel recalls, as she drops her hands into her lap and starts to pick at her nail polish.

  ‘Did Paul know?’ Rachel asks, quietly.

  ‘No, for some reason this was a secret that was so precious that I wanted to keep it to myself. We know all about each other’s ex’s, but Marcos was different. I know I was only young, but I think I loved him. I swore I’d find him one day when I was old enough, but life goes on I suppose. I’ve never forgotten him though.’

  ‘So, hang on... he’s engaged?’

  ‘Yep, and we’re invited to the bloody party! Mum and dad are coming over in a few days and insist on taking us along. Marcos has no idea that I’m going to be there. Oh holy-shit, Rach!’

  ‘Crikey, this is real soap-opera stuff,’ Rachel slurps the remainder of her drink, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘You’re full of surprises, you dark horse,’ she adds laughing, banging her empty glass down heavily on the table.

  ‘He’ll be thirty-one now,’ continues Isabel, ‘let’s just hope that he’s aged badly and that he’s fat and bald with bad skin,’ she smirks, looking up at Rachel, ‘I doubt it though.’

  ‘This could be fate you know Iz,’ says Rachel, winking.

  ‘Rachel, he’s engaged!!! We’re going to celebrate the happy event with him for god’s sake!!!’

  ‘Ahhhh but he hasn’t seen you in your floor length Monsoon dress yet, has he...??! And his fiancée is probably a moose anyway,’ she laughs, feeling the effects of the two mojitos!

  ‘It’s a pool party, I hardly think an evening gown is in the dress code! You certainly know how to turn a crisis into a celebration, Rachel!!’

  ‘Too right! Let’s ask Mr Perfect for the cocktail list!’

  After a gorgeously sophisticated Margarita each, with a couple of bowls of green olives, which Rachel decides that she actually likes, in spite of her initial urge to push them over to Isabel’s end of the bench, they start to get an attack of the giggles! As tears flood down their faces and they roll backwards on the seats, gripping the table in front of them, struggling to stop, Rachel has an idea. ‘Let’s make a night of it Iz! We’ll go back to the house, glam ourselves up a bit and go in search of a trendy beach-side restaurant with some good tunes.’

  ‘Plenty of those around,’ Isabel slurs and sweeps her arm out in front of her, indicating the many choices, knocking over an empty Margarita glass. This causes another uncontrollable fit of laughter!

  They manage to swing their legs back onto the solid deck and make their way down to the toilets, gripping each other’s arms for balance. ‘Who needs a man anyway?’ says Isabel, blurting out the question much louder than she had expected.

  ‘Exactly...’ Rachel agrees, and then stops suddenly in her tracks ‘apart from my Stephen, of course!!’

  ‘Ok, ok... Iz, you lead the way!’ rhymes Rachel as she links arms with her friend. They’ve both sobered-up considerably and are ready for round two! They had spotted a popular bar and restaurant from the roof terrace earlier that looked ideal.

  Rachel is wearing a flattering, knee-length black chiffon dress with a wide silver belt and silver, cork heeled sandals. Isabel, in contrast, has chosen a denim mini skirt with a red, halter-neck top, which covers her bruising, and diamante leather flip-flops. They had agreed that smart-casual was the way to go as they observed the diners coming and going from their chosen venue. It seemed to attract the under-thirties which meant the music was cranked-up with no complaints.

  ‘I can’t believe that you’ve literally only just looked at the sun for about two hours today and you’re already golden-brown,’ says Rachel, admiring Rachel’s toned, tanned legs. ‘My chest is a dodgy, blo
tchy pink, hence the high-necked dress tonight,’ she laughs, placing her palm delicately on her tender skin.

  ‘Don’t be daft Rach, you look gorgeous,’ says Isabel, stepping back to admire her friend’s floaty, romantic dress. ‘You should wear that style more often, it really suits you. I bet Stephen would love you in it.’ She pulls her friend close as they happily link arms again.

  As they walk into the dark, almost empty, interior of the bar, they realise that they are probably a bit too early to be wearing quite so many clothes. The crowds they had seen earlier must have just finished a long lunch as far as they can work out.

  Outside, the large white beds with the billowing voile curtains are still packed with groups of friends in swimwear, sunbathing and pouring lager from big glass jugs; some of them dancing around the loungers in sarongs to the deep House tunes, flirting confidently with glasses in their hands.

  ‘Crikey,’ says Rachel, ‘maybe we should have come straight here instead of going home to get changed. I feel a bit out of place!’

  ‘Nah, it’s fine. We’ll eat first, then by the time we’ve finished, this lot will be back again, showered and refreshed, ready to continue the party!’ smiles Isabel, enjoying the laid back atmosphere of the bar. ‘We’re still on English time. People don’t tend to come out for the evening here until about 10 p.m.,’ she glances at her watch, ‘and it’s only 7.30 p.m.,’ she laughs.

  ‘Let’s make the most of the last rays then and have a drink first out on the front lawn,’ says Rachel, ‘those deck chairs look really comfortable and the fake grass will be better on my heels,’ she sniggers.

  An hour later, Rachel couldn’t care less if she were wearing an evening dress or a black bin liner. They are both so relaxed after a bottle, perhaps two, of chilled wine in the evening sun. The pulsing beat of the music continues to drift from the bar.

  ‘Oh yes!’ screams Rachel suddenly, ‘Café del Mar!! I love this one!’ She settles back into the canvas chair, closes her eyes and winds her wrists delicately in the air above her head, like a very slow Flamenco dancer!