Waves of Betrayal (The Isabel Marsh Trilogy Book 1)

by Michelle J. Bennett

  For a split second, Lucy fears that Leanne is going to actually slap her, but instead she collapses back onto her bed and lets out a deep frustrated growl, pummelling the mattress with both fists. ‘I’ve been so stupid!’ she shouts.

  Lucy sits tentatively on the bed beside her and waits patiently for her friend to speak.

  ‘Ok. I’m fine,’ Leanne says after a short pause, but with renewed determination, ‘pass me my phone. I’ll call him... but stay, please?’ she pleads.

  Lucy settles herself in an armchair in the corner of the room as Leanne breathes deeply and dials Marcos’s number, sitting cross-legged on the bed.

  She looks up at Lucy, shaking her head, ‘he’s not going to answer,’ she says sadly. She is about to hang up when she sits abruptly upright, her legs hanging over the edge of the bed. ‘Marcos?’ she gasps.

  ‘Just a moment,’ comes the formal reply.

  ‘Marcos, it’s me. Please talk to me, let me explain... I can’t bear to be apart from you. I know I was wrong...’ she gabbles, not giving him a chance to speak.

  ‘Leanne, I thought I made it clear that we needed time apart. I’m busy at the moment.’

  ‘Busy?’ she asks, trying desperately not to launch into accusations. She imagines him whispering into the phone in his bathroom after explaining to Isabel, who lies sprawled across his bed, that he has a business call that he can’t ignore.

  ‘Yes, Leanne. I’m having a drink with Isabel.’

  Leanne tries so hard not to let the jealous rage take control. If he’s told her that he is with Isabel, then surely it must be innocent. Or not? She remains silent awaiting his next confession with her heart in her mouth. Is he leaving her? Is this it? Has she ruined everything?

  ‘Leanne? Are you there?’

  ‘Yes, yes, sorry, I’m here,’ she stammers.

  ‘I thought that I should apologise to Isabel for your behaviour last night. She’s an old friend, you know? Maybe you could come over one evening and meet her properly. I’m sure you’d love her once you get to know her.’

  ‘Meet her??’ asks Leanne, not recognising her own voice.

  ‘Well yes. We’re getting married, you and I, and Isabel is a part of my past. We’re good friends,’ he says, innocently.

  ‘Good friends?’ she asks with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

  ‘Yes, Leanne, good friends. You have plenty of male friends yourself. Is that so hard to comprehend?’ he argues, irritated.

  Leanne remembers suddenly the advice that Lucy had given her and laughs lightly. ‘Of course, sweetheart. I’m sorry,’ she sighs, ‘It’s just not good for me to be away from you. I love you, Marcos. Of course I’ll meet her,’ she adds, cringing physically at the mere idea of being in the same room as that woman.

  ‘Thank you darling. I hate it when we argue. Shall we say Tuesday at six o’clock at my place?’ he suggests, sounding more upbeat.

  ‘Great, look forward to it... and I am sorry Marcos. Do you forgive me?’

  ‘Let’s talk on Tuesday Lea. Te quiero, adiós guapa.’

  Leanne is left holding the silent phone next to her ear.

  ‘She’s there... she’s fucking there, at his house... and you tell me I have nothing to worry about?? Shit!’ she shouts, throwing herself face down onto her bed, covering her head with her pillow and kicking her legs like a child in a tantrum.

  ‘He wants me to meet her,’ she says eventually, removing the pillow from her tear-stained face and staring at Lucy with a frantic look in her eyes. ‘I don’t get it. I feel like an outsider...,’ she cries.

  ‘Leanne, if they were sleeping together, do you honestly think that he’d invite you over to meet her? Think about it for god’s sake!’ she insists, trying to convince her distraught friend.

  ‘Ok... I suppose. So how do I play this? Cool, right? Act like the perfect fiancée?’ She slams her hands down on the bed in frustration, ‘this is going to be the most horrendous night of my life. I so wish you could be there, to stop me from slapping her for a start!’ she laughs, as tears of frustration run down her cheeks.

  Chapter 31

  Following the directions on her phone, Isabel arrives at the glass-fronted building of the Language School twenty minutes early. She could have caught a slightly later bus, but she had to take into account that she didn’t exactly know where she was going or when the rush hour was. She considers hanging around outside until her appointment time, but the sun is already beating down on her navy blue dress, causing her to perspire uncomfortably.

  She pulls the door open and steps into the blissfully cool reception area where she is greeted by a very pretty, young Spanish receptionist who phones immediately through to Rafael’s office. She brings her a plastic cup of ice-cold water and tells her that Rafael will be out to greet her in a few minutes. She glances up at the various posters advertising Flamenco shows, local Ferias and reasonably priced coach trips to places like Ronda, the caves of Nerja and Gibraltar. She feels quite excited that she is going to be a part of all this and the opportunity to meet people will be most welcome since Rachel left. She accepts sadly, that once Marcos is reunited with Leanne there will be very few opportunities for them to get together.

  She finishes her water and stands to look closer at the Málaga Feria poster. Flamenco shows, stalls lining the streets selling food and drinks, the locals dressed in traditional Spanish costume, men on horseback, an evening fairground. She feels quite excited. She reminds herself that she really must brush up on her Spanish though, if she is to feel completely integrated.

  ‘Isabel,’ booms Rafael from the far side of the reception area, ‘you’re early. How lovely to see you again,’ he grins, holding out his hand to shake hers, formally.

  ‘Good morning. Sorry about being early, I just didn’t want to be late on my first day. I wasn’t sure how reliable the buses are,’ she smiles.

  ‘Oh very! More punctual than in the UK,’ he laughs, ‘not everything here is mañana, mañana you know!’

  He leads her through to his office where she signs a contract for four hours a day, five days a week, which suits her perfectly. She will start at 10 a.m. and finish by lunchtime. He provides her with a mountain of materials, books and websites to peruse before her first classes the following day. All of her classes are elementary level and all adults. She can’t hide her surprise when he tells her that the maximum class size will be twelve. She is used to over thirty students back home, generally unruly adolescents who constantly question the reason for learning a foreign language. She feels a twinge of excitement as she thanks Rafael and heads back through the Reception with a cotton “Málaga Language School” bag, bursting at the seams with books. As she reaches the door, she suddenly sees Marcos striding towards the building in a beige suit and white shirt, open at the neck, carrying a brown leather briefcase.

  ‘Isabel,’ he says, trying to hide his pleasure in seeing her, ‘I hoped I might see you here today!’ he adds, removing his shades and holding the door open for her. ‘It looks like you’re going to be busy this evening,’ he laughs, looking down at the bulging bag of books.

  ‘Just a bit,’ she smiles, blushing as she remembers how he caught her snooping in his bedroom the night before. ‘I’m looking forward to it though. Very different environment compared to a comprehensive school in back in the UK! Anyway, let’s just say I’m not expecting any discipline problems.’

  ‘Do you want a lift home?’ he asks, reaching over to take her bags from her.

  ‘No, no, honestly, there’s no need, thank you. There’s a bus in ten minutes, just across the road. I’ll be fine. You carry on,’ she smiles, ‘you’ve only just got here!’

  ‘Ok, if you’re sure? If I don’t see you before, I’ll pick you up at half past five tomorrow evening?’

  ‘Great. Look forward to it,’ she hesitates, biting her tongue. She couldn’t believe it when Marcos told her of his plan to invite both her and Leanne over for dinner. It’s not going to work; why can’t he see tha
t? Leanne is a nutter... and a cheating one at that! She has no desire to be friends with her. The whole evening has the word “disaster” written all over it. Still, she thinks, as she waves goodbye and crosses the road, she vows to be perfectly civil. She just hopes that she doesn’t get drunk and ends up swinging Leanne around the garden by her perfect blonde tresses. ‘What’s got into me??’ she laughs to herself as the bus approaches.

  After three full hours of reading through course material and selecting some simple worksheets and role plays to photocopy for the following day, Isabel feels prepared enough to take a break. She takes herself up onto the roof terrace with a large black coffee and her mobile. Kicking off her shoes and settling herself on a chair in the shade, with her legs stretched out on a little table in front of her, she dials Rachel’s number. She needs advice!

  ‘Iz!! How’s it going? I only saw you yesterday morning, you missing me already?’ teases Rachel, sounding full of energy as usual.

  ‘Hey, Rach’ Isabel laughs, ‘a lot can happen in a day and a half! Can you talk?’

  ‘Yes, the shop’s dead this morning so... tell me?! What’s going on?’ she asks. Isabel can imagine her friend settling herself on the stool behind the counter, twisting her earring between her fingers in anticipation.

  ‘Oh Rach, he’s just so nice. The perfect gentleman. What the hell is he doing with that girl? He called yesterday after you’d gone. My parents had asked him to keep an eye on me apparently... not that I mind!’ she laughs, ‘but he invited me to his house and it’s just... oh Rach, it’s just beautiful. Smaller, but more beautiful than his parents’ house. We had Chardonnay and talked and...’

  ‘and...??’ interrupts Rachel eagerly, gripping her mobile.

  ‘She phoned! The Bitch from Hell. She’s turned all cute and innocent and was full of apologies apparently. Rach... he’s invited us both to dinner at his place, tomorrow night. He’s convinced we’re going to be best friends!’

  ‘What...? No!’ Rachel whispers.

  Isabel imagines that someone must have come into the shop.

  ‘I’ve agreed, of course, what else could I have said? Especially as he caught me in his bedroom!!’ she laughs.

  ‘You what...? The plot thickens!’

  ‘No, nothing like that. I wanted to make myself scarce whilst he was talking to her, so I went inside to find the bathroom. Just so happens that I stumbled into his bedroom instead. I was only checking out his wardrobe, that’s all.’

  ‘Iz!!!!’ Rachel hisses, sounding amused.

  ‘Anyway, it’s all very masculine, no sign of His and Hers bathrobes or anything,’ she laughs out loud, reaching over for her mug of coffee.

  ‘Have you been drinking?’ she asks, muffling a giggle.

  ‘No! I haven’t touched a drop. Must be nerves! I’ve got my first classes tomorrow and then the dinner from hell. It’s so hot here too, even in the shade, maybe I’m delirious?!’

  ‘Well, if it makes you feel better, it’s fifteen degrees and cloudy here. My tan is fading already! By the way... no one has seen or heard from Paul since we got back, it’s really strange. I know he’s a complete tosser but I do hope he hasn’t gone and done anything stupid. We all expected a visit, demanding details on your whereabouts but, nothing! Let’s hope he’s seen sense and moved on, eh...? To be honest Iz, it sounds like you’re doing a pretty good job of moving on yourself!’ Rachel whispers conspiratorially, turning her back on a customer browsing the rack of half-price designer t-shirts.

  ‘Oh Rach,’ Isabel sighs, standing up and leaning on the wall of the terrace to watch the people passing by, ‘I think I’ve loved him all these years. I know it sounds cheesy as hell but it’s like torture, knowing that he’s a ten-minute drive away from me, but I can’t have him. He’s engaged Rach... to a cheating bitch, but still, engaged. I was just too late,’ she says miserably, staring down and scratching the flaky paint from the wall with her thumb nail.

  ‘Oh Iz, I just knew there was something more between the two of you,’ she says quietly, turning to wave a polite goodbye as the customer leaves the shop, ‘but what if he were to find out about her affair?’

  ‘You mean tell him?!’ asks Isabel, flopping herself back onto the chair behind her.

  ‘Well, think about it... why not?’ insists Rachel, louder now, walking from behind her desk. ‘Are you going to wait until after the ceremony and let him find out for himself? You’d be doing him a favour Iz.’

  ‘I just can’t. Besides, it could have been a relative or something. We can’t just go around making wild accusations and splitting up perfectly happy couples, only because we think that he would be better off with me!’ she says, leaning forward and taking a gulp of tepid coffee.

  ‘A relative?? Isabel, how naive are you? We saw them snogging in the beach bar, lying on a bed together. He was stroking her thigh! Then holding hands over the table in the café. If it is a relative, I’d be very worried Iz!!’

  ‘Ok, ok, I know. Let’s just see how tomorrow night goes first.’

  ‘She’ll be sweetness and light and you know it! She’s going to play right into his hands and, before you know it, she’ll even be asking you to be her Bridesmaid for god’s sake, like in that film... My Best Friend’s Wedding!’

  ‘Yeah, and if you remember Rach, the girl in question ends up losing her man through psychotic jealousy!’ she laughs, gulping the rest of her coffee.

  ‘Are you sure you’re not drinking?!’ asks Rachel, suspiciously.

  ‘Yes, coffee... I might have to pop out and get some brandy to go in it though,’ she sighs.

  ‘Nope, come on Iz, you need to be on the ball tomorrow. With any luck the Demon Bride will lose it again and show her true colours without any intervention from us,’ she sniggers.

  ‘Rach, we are not going to intervene. Let’s leave it to fate shall we?! Now look, I’ve got to go and do some more planning if I’m to keep this job. Marcos owns the school by the way!’

  ‘You what? Ha! Brilliant, so you’ll see more of him then. Excellent. We couldn’t have planned it better! Make sure you look good every day!’ says Rachel, tidying a full rail of vintage dresses, with her phone tucked under her chin.

  ‘You’re so funny Rach, but I really am glad that I told you. I’ll let you know how it goes tomorrow, ok? Now go and do some work for a change. Bye for now.’

  Isabel sleeps badly that night, worrying that she will be totally out of her depth. Being English is one thing, but teaching it is quite another. She lies awake trying desperately to work out the grammatical rules for when to use “must” or “have to” and what about “much” and “many”? or “can, may, might”?? Her head spins and she really starts to question whether she really is qualified to take this job on. What if all of her students laugh at her?

  She finally falls asleep at 2 a.m., only to be woken up again at 6 a.m. by her alarm. She must go over her lesson plans for the day. She practises in front of the mirror, pronouncing words as clearly as she can, introducing herself over and over again.

  As she stands in front of her students, she smiles to herself and feels foolish for having worried so much. They are all lovely and aged between eighteen and forty-nine.

  She smoothes down her skirt as she stands to write the new vocabulary on the board. The students open their folders eagerly, without being asked, and begin to record the words, in happy concentration. Some have better spoken English than others, but Isabel has paired them up so that they can support each other. She also makes sure to mix the nationalities to encourage them to communicate in English as often as possible in the classroom.

  Amongst them are three Chinese girls, a Swiss businessman, four Russians in their mid-twenties, and four Spanish girls who work in hospitality. There are seven women and five men, so the mix is good, Isabel thinks, as she smiles confidently at them all. She hands out the sheets for the next activity.

  The ice was broken in the first ten minutes of the lesson when Isabel asked them what they liked mo
st about Málaga. One of the Russian boys, Dima, answered ‘the bitch’. They had spent five minutes pronouncing the word ‘beach’ and laughing together about other embarrassing pitfalls like ‘piece’ and ‘piss’ and, the one that amused them the most, ‘sheet’ and not ‘shit’! Isabel is so enjoying being able to be herself in the classroom and having students who actually want to learn, that she forgets all about the evening ahead.

  She circulates, listening to the conversations between her students as they complete the “Find somebody who...” exercise. She had revised question forming in English and now watches proudly as they walk around the light, airy classroom, interviewing each other to find out who has more than two siblings, or if anyone doesn’t like chocolate, or whether any of them have a pet dog. She finds it rather cute and amusing in a way, listening to the simple questions being asked so seriously. There are ten questions to ask in total and, as they are taking the activity seriously and don’t cheat, as her pupils back at home would have done, the activity takes a lot longer than planned.

  Following the revelations about each other, the group seems to have gelled and Isabel feels more like their friend than their teacher. She is surprised when the lesson comes to an end and she feels relaxed and confident, whilst her students leave the classroom in a chorus of “thank-yous” and “goodbyes”.

  She files the day’s worksheets away in her folder and skips happily to the photocopier in the school’s office. Seeing that she over-planned massively for her first day, she is relieved to find that she will have more than enough resources for the next day or two. Her heart suddenly sinks though, when she thinks about the evening ahead of her, with Marcos and his fiancée.