by Lily Graham
Allan came off the ferry with a fresh wave of tourists, looking pale and thin and as nervous as ever, and dressed in a suit. So out of place with all the relaxed holidaymakers leaving the ferry in a throng of suntan cream, multicoloured shorts, sandals and toothpaste grins.
‘Twig,’ he said, sounding relieved, when he spotted me. We embraced.
‘You’re wearing a suit,’ I said.
He looked down, then grinned. ‘I had a meeting, and then…’ He rolled his eyes, ‘God, I need this, don’t I?’
I grinned. ‘You do,’ I said, throwing an arm round his shoulders and leading him away from the crowds.
He grinned, readjusted the strap of his satchel and followed, his eyes taking in everything. ‘It’s incredible.’
‘Yeah,’ I said, looking at the span of turquoise waters and, in the distance, the hazy tip of Ibiza.
‘You hungry?’ I asked.
‘Yeah – I…’
‘You didn’t eat on the plane.’
I grinned as he gave me a kind of nodding shrug. Allan had a weird thing about food. He didn’t eat at places he felt he couldn’t trust. That included anywhere with a drive-through – this earned extra bonus points if it was spelt ‘thru’ – food that sat under heat lamps, like in canteens; and, apparently, budget airlines. You wouldn’t believe that he worked in London, and caught the Tube every day of his life.
He had once admitted after a few too many tequilas, the scary amount of money he spent on hand sanitiser every month. It was then that I suggested it might be cheaper to see a therapist.
‘Okay, so I’m going to take you to a local restaurant. They have amazing food, and I have it on good authority that the hygiene is impeccable.’
Only with Allan would this be my opening premise – with anyone else I would sell the place on the fresh seafood, the incredible sauces…
‘Oh really?’ he said, brightening considerably. I hid a grin.
We ate fresh seafood pasta and drank wine, and stared at the boats in the port. I played with James’s ring on my thumb as I told Allan all about what I’d seen and done while I’d been here. He stared at me, somewhat awed. He was most interested, of course, in Maria, and was looking forward to meeting my gran’s long-lost sister.
As we sat and ordered our second glass of rosé, I saw Isla walking across the street from her stall. I waved and she came over.
My brother looked at me in surprise. ‘You know that girl?’
I nodded.
‘Of course – that’s Isla.’
‘That’s Isla?’ Something about the way he said that meant perhaps I hadn’t done my pretty young friend justice; or perhaps when I’d described the somewhat hippie girl who sometimes went barefoot on the street he’d pictured someone, well, a little less lovely. Perhaps he hadn’t been able to stop picturing the sand on her feet.
Isla came to our table and gave me a hug, and I introduced Allan, who had actually turned, of all things, shy.
I couldn’t help stifling a laugh.
She put both of her hands on top of Allan’s. The type of gesture that Allan, ordinarily, would have found a bit too airy fairy but seemed to find rather charming now.
I raised an eyebrow at him, and he had the grace to flush.
‘How long are you staying for?’ she asked him.
‘About a week.’
She grinned at me. ‘That’s great – maybe you can drag your sister down to the beach. Can you believe she hasn’t swum in the sea yet?’
Allan, despite the fact that he was wearing a suit, looked at me in surprise.
‘You haven’t?’
I shrugged. I’d bought a costume, but that was as far as I’d got. I’d been far too busy with the house, and with getting to know Maria.
‘She has not,’ said Isla, touching my shoulder affectionately. ‘Though I’ve invited her a few times now.’
I wrinkled my nose. The idea of being on a beach in a bikini with Isla and some of her younger friends hadn’t appealed as much as listening to her sing or having the band over for dinner.
‘You should go, Twig.’
I raised an eyebrow. ‘Et tu, Brute?’
He grinned. ‘It’s an island – you can’t tell people you came here and never swam in the sea!’
I nodded. It did sound crazy, I had to admit.
‘Exactly, you tell her, Allan,’ she said, giving him a megawatt smile that made him blink.
I grinned. I knew that soppy look on his face.
‘Anyway, I better get back,’ she said, pointing to her stall, where we could see someone idling, perhaps hoping to buy some of her seascapes.
‘You’re coming tonight, right?’ she asked him. ‘To the Blues Bar. To hear us play?’
‘Yeah,’ he said, eyes shining. ‘Wouldn’t miss it – heard so much about the band.’
‘Great,’ she said, then when he wasn’t looking she looked at me and mouthed, ‘Wow, he’s hot.’
Allan? Hot? I had to hide a grin, even as I looked from her to him and thought, oh hell, here comes trouble.
After she left, I managed to restrain myself from teasing my brother when he asked casually if she were single.
‘Yeah, she is.’
‘Ah.’
I hid another grin, and took a sip of wine.
He pointed at the second bag he’d brought, which was by his feet. ‘Got those things you asked me for, including this,’ he said, opening the case and handing me my laptop. I whooped in glee at the sight of it.
‘You’re a saint. Thank you for going by the house and getting it. I can start transcribing my book now – there’s only so much I can write in my notebook before my fingers start cramping. The pace has been glacial.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘And, how’s that different from the last decade?’
I gave him a look. ‘Touché.’
He took a sip of wine and loosened his tie.
‘So, it is a book?’
I nodded. ‘Yeah, I think so.’
‘That’s pretty great, Twig.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Mum’s looking after the plants and stuff, she helped me pack some other things – there’s dresses and a few bits that she wanted you to have,’ he said, indicating the bag.
‘Oh, great, thanks.’
‘I was glad to hear you finally told her by the way – about this – about Marisal.’
I nodded. ‘Yeah, me too. You know, she’s been great actually.’
He raised an eyebrow again, and I shrugged. It was true. It was almost like it was before James died, when I could tell my mother anything. I knew we still had some way to go, but ever since I’d opened up to her the other day, it had been like a dam had burst, and I’d been finding it easier to speak to her. We were texting each other a lot, and I was keeping her updated on everything, sending her pictures of the island, the house and even the Blues Bar, and though we were separated now by an ocean, I felt closer to her than I had in years.
‘Well, I’m glad.’
I grinned. ‘So, have you got anything besides a suit in that satchel of yours?’
I could see the beads of sweat on his forehead. He looked uncomfortably hot.
He made a face and answered honestly. ‘Yeah, got some chinos, and golf shirts.’
I laughed.
‘Tell you what, let’s go past the market and get you some shorts.’
‘Shorts?’ he said, aghast. I could see him picturing his own lily-white knees and grinned.
‘Yeah, it is an island, Al,’ I said as he had pointed out to me and Isla earlier. ‘Plus it gets bloody hot here, and it’s not like there’s air con at the villa.’
‘Oh, good point.’
After lunch, I steered him towards a small stall that sold men’s clothing, and together we picked out a few funky tees and a couple of pairs of shorts. I couldn’t help but notice how his eyes kept wandering to Isla and her art stall.
We got into a taxi afterwards and he sat in silence, staring out at the
open window, taking it all in. The sweeping view of turquoise ocean, the scent of wild rosemary and the stretches of white sandy beaches winking in the sun.
He looked at me as the taxi turned into the drive and stopped. He squeezed my hand as I pointed at the villa, and its blush of bougainvillea spilling over the whitewashed walls, and the impossibly blue ocean behind it. ‘Marisal,’ he breathed. ‘I can’t believe I’m seeing it at last.’
‘I know, that’s exactly how I felt.’
I showed Allan the house, watched as he tried to take it all in, shaking his head. ‘It’s really come along. Pretty amazing what you have done in a few weeks.’
I nodded. ‘It’s all thanks to Emmanuel.’
I’d told him a little about the renovator, but not everything.
Allan put his bags in his room, and decided to get changed into the shorts that he’d insisted earlier he wouldn’t need. ‘It’s boiling…’
I nodded. ‘If you like we can talk a walk to a nearby cove.’
‘There’s a cove nearby? That’s great.’
I nodded. At least I hoped it was still around – it used to exist about two hundred years ago… and after hearing Maria’s stories I was dying to see it for myself.
For all that I teased my brother, we were a pair, I thought, as I slipped back inside and put on the swimming costume I’d bought at the market. It was a stripy navy one-piece, but weeks of wearing shorts had given me an advantage over him – I had an impressive knee tan, which wasn’t all that attractive on reflection, considering my pale thighs.
We walked with colourful towels round our necks and Allan told me all the latest happenings in his office. Who was sleeping with whom. Who had quit spontaneously, and who had been fired for stealing. I liked to hear about things like that even though the closest I’d ever got to working in an office was helping man the phones at home occasionally for James’s design business.
We found the cove, along a narrow road not too far from the house. We traipsed over rocks that ended in a clear stretch of lagoon, filled with dazzlingly still turquoise water, then both yelped and ran to jump in, flinging towels and sandals on to the nearby rocks.
The water was warm, the sun high up in the sky and the sky a periwinkle blue as we lay on our backs, idly floating, our hair spread out behind us.
As we drifted, Allan picked up my hand and ran a finger over James’s ring, but said nothing. Just winked at me, before he let it go.
But I answered his unspoken question. ‘I’m not sure if I should keep wearing it… I don’t really know what “should” is any more. It’s like in some ways I’ve moved so far past what I thought I should be doing, I don’t even recognise what’s normal any more.’
‘Twig, I think the only thing you should be doing right now is this – trying to put yourself back together. That’s what he wanted.’
I nodded. He was right, I supposed.
‘But, look, if you’re wondering about what to do with the ring, well, I heard about a woman from work who took her husband’s ring to a jeweller and got it remodelled into a bracelet, so that she could wear it – that might be an idea?’
I bit my lip. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to let go of the ring, even just by having it made into a different form – but it did give me an idea for when I might be.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Genoa, 1718
Antoni stood on the deck of the ship, surveying the horizon through the brass spyglass in his hands. It telescoped neatly into itself as he squared his shoulders. It looked like a Crown ship approaching.
They would have some explaining to do.
He ran a hand through his hair, and thought of his mother and sisters, and the man he’d brought into their care. He clenched his jaw.
As the crew rushed about, dropping anchor to welcome their visitors on board, he looked around, saw the determined looks from all the men. They were all Ibicencos. They came from families he’d known most of his life, since he was a boy. Not everyone was like them. They weren’t all marranos, but it didn’t matter; they may as well have been, they’d been neighbours and friends for years. He gave the nod to welcome their visitor on board. They would protect his secret. Of that he had no doubt.
Two men came aboard. The one who was no doubt in charge greeted them with a kind of warm look that didn’t quite meet his eyes. Antoni recognised that look. It was the kind of wariness that all mainlanders shared for the Ibicencos. It was based on years of careful rumours. Rumours the islanders had encouraged. About them all being thieves in league with barbarians and bloodthirsty pirates.
Antoni wondered if the men had drawn the short straws to be the ones to come aboard, and his lips twitched in amusement.
The first man introduced himself as Don Matías Fernandez, introducing the other as Señor Alfonso Deltorres. ‘I’ve come to ask you if you’ve heard anything about the capture of the Moorish vessel in these waters a few weeks ago,’ he said. ‘It seems a pair of brothers, suspected chuetas by the name of Paulo and Benito Nuñez, were taken from aboard the vessel. We recovered one of the bodies, but it is feared that the other is still alive and has escaped, and we wondered if you knew anything about it.’
Antoni kept his expression neutral, though his heart started to pound. ‘We have heard rumours, of course, Señor, but no one mentioned that a body had been found.’
The man didn’t answer him, just looked around, pacing up and down the ship. ‘Do you know, Captain, that the Moors who lost their cargo of chuetas described a ship just like this one?’
Antoni laughed. ‘What are you suggesting, Señor? That the Invictus, one of the trade’s most recognisable vessels, masquerades as a pirate ship? I admit of course that we have the authority to act as corsairs – to act against enemy ships – but that is all, as you no doubt are aware.’
It was a serious accusation – one that he knew couldn’t be taken lightly.
The other man, Señor Deltorres, had the grace to laugh, which eased Antoni’s fears.
‘I wouldn’t dare to make such an accusation, Señor Capitan,’ said Don Fernandez. ‘But a body washed up not far from where you were last in port, the body of Paulo Nuñez, so of course questions must be asked, do you not agree?’
He nodded. ‘I suppose questions must be asked, but I wonder, Don Fernandez, at how well you are doing your job, if you are stopping a salt vessel to ask about chueta prisoners – surely you don’t mean to imply that we are in the habit of taking aboard prisoners while we are doing the Crown’s work?’
The man bristled. ‘Of course not. Though you won’t mind if we have a look around.’
Antoni raised an eyebrow. ‘Of course,’ he said, and as the man stepped forward, past the crew, who were all eyeing them with dark glints in their eyes, Antoni called, ‘You are welcome to sift through the salt too – perhaps you could help us offload it when we arrive in port – do something useful with your time?’
The crew erupted into loud guffaws.
The man’s spine straightened. He called to Señor Deltorres, and after a cursory glance around, the two made to leave the ship, bidding them good day.
Antoni only breathed out when he saw the two men return to their ship, and maintained his air of amused nonchalance until they were well out of sight.
He turned to the men, the fear in his eyes echoing theirs. ‘It’ll be fine,’ said Hernandez, his first mate. ‘They went away feeling like fools.’
‘Yes,’ muttered several of the crew.
Antoni nodded. They’d got rid of them, yes, but for how long? He sighed. He’d have to go back home, warn them – how long would it be before they started searching there, before they thought of looking on the small island where the captain of the Invictus lived?
Chapter Thirty-Four
Formentera, present day
Isla was singing Bill Withers’ ‘Lovely Day’ in her haunting voice when Allan and I arrived at the Blues Bar. The beach bar was full of laughing couples, all sitting beneath the string light
s, sipping on beers and closing their eyes to better listen to the music.
We got a drink, and then I said. ‘You’ll be all right here, by yourself?’
He looked at me oddly. ‘Yeah, why?’
I took a sip of my drink. ‘Well, I’ve got to go – I’m in the next song.’
‘What?’ he said, his mouth falling open.
I laughed, then made my way onstage where I picked up the tambourine from next to Big Jim’s feet, laughing at Allan’s shocked face as I took a seat, and I shook it the way they had shown me to.
After the set we all took a seat next to Allan, who, every time he looked at me, started laughing again. ‘I’ve taken pics for Sage and Mum.’
I grinned, took a sip of my drink – Pineapple Lady – and shrugged. ‘Okay. That’s fine.’
And it was. Being onstage with Big Jim, Isla and Sue was pure fun. I got caught up in the music and though a part of me knew that I probably looked a bit silly, a forty-five-year-old woman shaking a tambourine, I honestly didn’t care.
‘You should try it,’ said Isla, looking at Allan, who stopped laughing immediately. ‘Um – no thanks.’
Big Jim looked at him. ‘You play anything?’
Allan shook his head.
I grinned. ‘He used to sing in the school choir – he went to one of those all-boys’ ones, posh, you know? He even won an award – before his, er, man bits came in. Remember Al, Mum actually cried. What did she say again: “I’m going to miss my little voice of an angel!”?’
Allan went pink, closing his eyes in mortification as we all erupted into guffaws. ‘Thanks for that,’ he said as Big Jim started choking on his beer as he howled, Isla pounding his back.
Allan looked at me and shook his head. ‘You couldn’t give me one day?’
I bit my lip, trying hard not to laugh. ‘Sorry.’
Big Jim was still sniggering while he muttered, ‘man bits’.
‘Sibling love, eh?’ said Isla, turning to Allan and offering to buy him a drink.
‘Yup.’
She grinned. ‘Well, I think that’s pretty cool anyway – that you used to sing. Maybe we can tempt you on stage one day.’
