by Louise Voss
Her husband was podgy, wearing shorts that were three inches too short and too tight for his chubby legs. They were representative of most non-native people I’d seen on the island and, as I rotated a rack of very expensive sunglasses, I was so busy trying to eavesdrop on their conversation that I almost missed Ed walking past the window.
I made an involuntary sound in my throat that made lollipop-lady break off her conversation – something about the rainforest shower not working properly – and stare at me.
I rushed past her, accidentally banging her bony shoulder in my haste. ‘Sorry!’
I opened the door just enough to peer out. It was Ed. I’d know that familiar, slightly rolling gait anywhere. His legs were tanned a deep mahogany brown, he was wearing a floppy pink cotton hat and long Hawaiian-patterned swim shorts, carrying a bottle of sun cream.
I swallowed hard, sweat breaking out on my forehead. My pulse thumped so hard in my ears that the speckled marble floor of the store momentarily shifted under my feet and I had to take a few deep breaths to steady myself.
He was here. I knew it!
But at least he was on his own.
‘Are you OK?’ the man in tight shorts asked me. It was a good thing I wasn’t undercover any more. People had been asking me that all week. I may have remembered the surveillance techniques but not, it seemed, how to carry them out unnoticed. I nodded, apologising again, before sliding out of the shop and following Ed. He was about twenty feet ahead of me, striding purposefully towards a line of buggies. My own Mule was parked in the opposite direction on the roadside – damn, I thought, making a 180-degree turn and breaking into a run towards it, my flip-flops slapping on the boardwalk, my hand clutching the knot of my sarong between my breasts to stop it falling off.
I looked back to see Ed climb into his Mule and drive in my direction as I got into mine. I ducked down, pretending to scrabble around on the buggy floor to pick something up so that he wouldn’t see my face and then, once he’d passed, I set off after him at a discreet distance. I realised I was clenching my teeth so hard that my jaw ached.
He was heading for Macaroni Beach, on the east side of the island. I knew that the road would soon peter out so I parked up and walked the rest of the way. It was breezier on this side, and I could hear the waves rolling in. The sound helped calm the pulse that was still hammering its panicked tattoo inside my head as I crept along the path leading to the sea.
The long white beach was almost empty, bar a couple of body-boarders in the water and a family punching a beach ball at one another at the far end.
I saw Ed immediately, sitting on a huge, square patterned beach towel. He’d stripped off his t-shirt and was squeezing sunscreen into his hands. I watched from behind a tree as he rubbed it into his shoulders and chest, cupping his palms and applying it to his face vigorously, like he was exfoliating.
Even with my suspicions as fierce as they were, I wanted to stroll over and massage the excess into the little tuft of hair near the base of his spine and the parts of his mid-back he couldn’t reach, just as I’d done for years on all our shared holidays. So many beaches, so much sand between our toes.
But why would he choose to do this without me? I felt damp with self-pity as I watched him frame his eyes and gaze out to sea.
He took off his shades, lay down on his front and buried his face in the crook of his arms, and I wanted nothing more than to join him on the towel, feeling the hot skin of his back under my hand, inhaling the scent of his sun cream and salty sweat.
Then I thought of the emptied bank account. The spyware on my laptop. The missing passport. Shelagh’s mysterious disappearance, Mike’s death, ‘Bill’, who didn’t exist…
And then, like a conjured-up personification of my doubts, something in the sea caught my attention. A woman, swimming steadily towards the shore until the water became a lighter shade of turquoise and she could wade back through the waves. She strode up the beach towards Ed, posture-perfect in a tiny blue string bikini, the muscles moving in her lean legs as the sand shifted beneath her.
The breath stopped in my throat as I watched her approach the towel, giggling as she deliberately squeezed her wet hair over Ed, who roared and rolled over. Then she flung herself down next to him, put her hands on his chest and kissed his shoulder, and I watched as my husband grabbed her and pulled her on top of him, hugging her effusively with both arms around her slim waist. If they’d been in the sea instead of higher up the beach, they’d have looked like Burt Lancaster and Deborah Kerr in From Here to Eternity. My stomach turned sour with jealousy and shock – but not surprise.
It was April. Of course it was.
51
I lurched backwards on my arse into the scrubby bushes. Before I was even able to scramble up, I was vomiting over the ants scurrying about in the dirt, just managing to avoid puking all down myself. Heaving and gasping, I leaned on a tree trunk as white stars popped in my vision and tears and snot ran down my face.
It took me a few minutes, most of a bottle of water and several wet-wipes to regain some kind of shaky composure, so many bitter thoughts running through my head that I felt I would never be at peace again. Gone were all the notions of this being some kind of mental aberration on Ed’s part, or a return of the disease, or anything other than outright betrayal.
I wanted to kill them both. For a few minutes, I seriously considered it. I would follow them back to wherever they were staying, and stab them in their bed. At least Martine Knocker didn’t know I was here. If only I hadn’t had that conversation with the hotel staff, telling them I was looking for Ed … Then I calmed down some more, enough to try and figure out a more sensible plan of action.
I moved along the beach, to the shelter of a shack with a palm-leaf roof where I was fairly sure neither of them could spot me, and waited. They finally stopped snogging and both seemed to fall asleep, motionless apart from a sea breeze ruffling their hair. I watched, emotions rolling through me in great tidal surges of misery and rage.
I wasn’t sure what to do, how to confront them, but as the minutes passed I realised that I wanted to get Ed on his own. I couldn’t bear the thought of April’s tearful apologies and pathetic excuses. But I couldn’t think how to go about it, without trying to kidnap April and lock her in a cellar somewhere.
Then an opportunity presented itself: Ed woke up and got to his feet. He’d always had far too short an attention span to enjoy lying on a beach for long. He looked out to sea for a moment, then down at April, and then set off, walking towards my end of the beach. I could almost hear his thoughts: Quick walk, stretch the legs, build up a proper sweat, then I’ll have a dip.
It was too good a chance to miss. My heart thumping in my throat, I dashed behind the shelter, out to the bushes and trees that formed the barrier between beach and land, and along the narrow dirt path as far as I could go. Then I doubled back down onto the sand, walking straight towards Ed, waiting for him to clock me. My legs shook uncontrollably as I tried not to stumble.
We approached one another. Thirty feet … twenty … ten … he glanced up and saw me, a polite ‘fellow-tourist’ smile on his face – and then he recognised me and stopped in his tracks, the smile frozen as he did an exaggerated double-take.
‘Hello, Ed.’
I was not going to shout and scream. I was going to play him at his own game.
He looked so floored that for a moment I almost felt sorry for him. He glanced behind him, presumably to check that April was still asleep then, consummate actor that he thought he was, recovered himself and flung his arms wide.
‘Lynn? Is it really you? My darling heart – but what are you doing here? This is incredible!’
He enveloped me in a sweaty bear hug and for a split second I wanted nothing more than to return it, to fit my head into that familiar groove between his collarbone and his hot neck … until I realised that all he was trying to do was to edge me around so that he completely blocked my view of April.
‘L
ooking for you,’ I said, my voice muffled against his chest. ‘Darling.’
‘Wow. I don’t know how you did it, but you found me. And spoilt the surprise!’ He rubbed the back of my skull. ‘You’ve cut all your hair off! It looks … it’s very short … but it suits you. I think.’
I knew he’d hate it. This was good; two fingers up at him. Thankfully I managed to resist his embrace.
‘What surprise?’ I wriggled free and pushed him away, my forefinger pressing his chest until he was at arm’s length.
He grabbed my hand, a hurt expression on his face. ‘You aren’t wearing your rings!’
I almost laughed. ‘Ed … that’s the least of your problems right now. We need to talk, don’t we? And – what surprise?’
‘Well, that’s one of the things we’ll talk about! I can’t believe you’re here! Have you just arrived? Let’s go and get some lunch, shall we?’
I wanted to say yes, just to see how he’d manage to negotiate leaving April asleep on a towel without telling her where he was going, but decided against it. I was going to play this my way.
‘Tell you what,’ I said instead, ‘I’m not feeling great at the moment. Bit of a dodgy stomach. Something I ate, probably. I was about to go back to sleep it off. So how about an early dinner tonight, at your villa? You could cook something for me, or get some room service in.’
‘It’s hardly a villa. Little cottage, more like.’ He hesitated, scratched his salty hair.
‘What’s the matter, don’t you want to? Are you here with someone, is that it?’
Would he really pretend he wasn’t? If I shouted April’s name, she’d hear me. My stomach constricted like an egg timer being flipped.
‘What?’ He shaded his eyes from the sun. ‘With someone? A woman, do you mean?’ He shook his head slightly and I was almost impressed – he seemed genuinely puzzled, as if unaware his mistress – my friend – was lying asleep on a towel a hundred feet away from us.
Then he took my little finger gently, the way he used to. ‘Lynn – you’re right, we do need to talk. There’s so much I need to explain…’
‘You’re not kidding.’
‘But it’s incredible that you’re here! I’m so happy. It’s so weird, you know. I might as well tell you now – the surprise was that I was going to ring you tomorrow and get you over. I was actually planning to buy you a plane ticket later today!’
‘Really.’
‘Yes! Look, Lynn – I know I owe you a massive apology for not being in touch, but I can explain, if you’ll let me. I wanted to get everything ready for you, then give you a holiday of a lifetime out here, you know, after all you’ve been through in the last year, having to look after me and then deal with me vanishing like that … you deserve so much better.’
I made a sardonic grunting sound and Ed looked desolate.
‘So that’s what you concluded – that I was having some mad affair with another woman and we’d run off together?’
The fucking brass neck of him. ‘Well, that’s part of it.’
‘Oh, Lynn … As if! I love you. Always have. You’re my girl.’ He went to hug me again and this time I let him, standing on a white beach on a tiny little island thousands of miles from home, the sun beating down on us, soaking his lies into the hot skin of my shoulders.
‘So – tonight?’
‘OK,’ he said. ‘But let me come to you.’
No chance. I pretended to think about it for a moment.
‘No – kind of you to offer, but my room’s tiny so we’d have to have dinner in the restaurant, and we need to talk in private. I want you all to myself. Where are you staying?’
Once he realised I was adamant, he gave me his address on the island without batting an eyelid, even going so far as to grab my hand and tell me he wasn’t sure if he could wait that long. I was so tempted to say, ‘Great. Just let me go and say hi to April first,’ but I managed not to. String him along as long as possible, I thought.
‘See you at five then. Let’s make it early, I’ve still got jetlag.’ I turned to go but he grabbed my wrist and gave me a Judas kiss on the cheek that almost made my eyes fill. I walked back to my Mule having to curse him with the worst swearwords I could think of, in rhythm with my footsteps. I was pretty sure that rage and adrenaline would be the only fuels keeping me going from that point on.
52
I thought about the satisfaction to be gained from showing up early, just to see the look on their faces, but instead I was bang on time, parking my Mule on the mountaintop road by a turning with a hand-painted sign saying ‘Surf View’. The lane led to a small villa discreetly screened from the road by beautifully manicured hibiscus bushes.
The vista opened up ahead, a stunning backdrop of azure sea and turquoise sky spread far below me, beyond a riot of flowering plants marking the divide between cliff and cottage garden: spiky birds of paradise, delicate jasmine blooms, orchids of different colours. I smelled barbecue and the ever-present frangipani. A small plunge pool adjoined the marble verandah, water trickling down an artfully placed pile of stones to imitate a natural waterfall.
Ed must have been looking out for me, as he flung open the front door when I approached. ‘Ta da!’ he said, spreading his arms wide. ‘Do you like it?’
‘It’s gorgeous. Really pretty. Will you show me round?’ I handed him the bottle of wine I’d bought that afternoon.
‘Sure. How did you get up here?’
He opened the front door into a cool, spacious living area, decorated in neutral shades of grey, sand and white.
‘Cab,’ I lied. I wanted him to think I was going to drink as much as I intended to get him to.
‘You look beautiful,’ he said. ‘Your hair is growing on me.’
I didn’t bother to make the obvious pun.
Predictably, there was no sign of April, nothing out of place except Ed’s swim shorts left on the coffee table and an open copy of a book about how to improve your golf. I almost smirked at the thought of how they must have been running around like headless chickens trying to get all her stuff hidden. Where was she? Biting her nails in a bar somewhere, hopefully, the treacherous bitch.
‘Golf?’ I picked up the book and glanced at it.
‘There’s an amazing course on Canouan, the next island over. Going to play golf by boat, how cool is that? Even I can’t go diving every day. Hey, the diving here is incredible. I can’t wait to take you. I thought we’d go next week when I was planning for you to arrive, but now you’re already here, maybe we could go out tomorrow? You could take your PADI qualification! Do you remember, you were going to do it in Greece that time but you got a tummy bug and couldn’t. How is your tummy, by the way? Are you feeling better?’
‘I’m fine now.’ I replaced the book on the table, trying to quash the sense of desolation I felt on hearing him use the word ‘tummy’. He’d always done it and I’d always found it massively endearing. ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’ve got a lot of things to sort out first.’
‘Ah. Yes. Sort out. Of course. How did you know I was here, by the way?’ His voice very much had the tone of someone who was forcing himself to sound casual.
‘The phone bill, basically, from when you booked. That, and some educated guesses. Got any beer?’ I wandered into the kitchen and opened the fridge, which contained four bottles of Banks wine – Ed’s favourite – and a couple of mangos. I took out two beers and uncapped them on the edge of the kitchen counter. Ed laughed again. ‘I’ve really missed seeing you do that,’ he said, accepting his and knocking back most of it in a couple of gulps. ‘Cheers, Liz. So good to have you here. Let’s go and admire the view.’
Who the hell was Liz?
‘Who’s Liz?’
‘What?’
‘You just called me Liz!’
He looked confused. ‘No, I didn’t.’
‘You did. I thought we’d put all that nonsense behind us now?’ No need to be sympathetic, not any more.
He
opened his mouth as if to speak and then changed his mind, looking genuinely shocked.
‘You were going to show me around?’ I put the cold bottle against my hot cheeks in turn, deciding not to press the point yet, not until I’d heard what he had to say.
‘There’s not much else to see. Bathroom.’ He flung open a door to reveal a large and luxurious wet room. One toothbrush by the basin, one wash bag.
‘And bedroom.’ He ushered me through to the final room, smaller than the living room but spacious and light, perfectly tidy, the white bedspread smooth and scattered with pink petals, five white pillows of different sizes arranged with mathematical neatness.
There was an unfamiliar red suitcase on the floor by the wardrobe.
‘Whose is that?’
‘Mine.’ He had the grace to look sheepish. ‘I, er, bought it at the airport. The whole thing was very spur of the moment.’
‘I see.’ Lying arsehole. ‘So, are we eating then? I’m starving.’
I wasn’t remotely hungry.
‘Yes – it’s outside.’
I followed him out onto the verandah to a small, white wrought-iron table, an ostentatious-looking seafood salad in a bowl between two place settings. We sat down and he served me a portion, dropping fat prawns and cherry tomatoes through the gaps in the lattice table-top. His hand was shaking slightly and I was glad to see it – he wasn’t as in control as he wanted me to think.
The only sound was the water bubbling into the plunge pool and the tweeting of invisible birds in the trees above. Bright flowers in pots decorated the patio and an ammonite embedded in a great lump of rock sat by the doors.
‘That looks delicious. Did you make it?’
He shook his head. ‘I’d say yes, but I’d be lying. I ordered it.’
