by Jules Wake
‘She doesn’t think that,’ said Carrie, sitting up and leaning over to kiss her sister on the cheek. ‘She loves you very much, like I do.’
‘Thanks,’ Angela held out a hand and Carrie took it, rubbing the swollen knuckles, aware that her sister’s rare recourse to wearing her splints signified she was in some pain today.
‘We had quite a few tears when we got in. She sobered up rather quickly and then slept in my bed last night.’ Angela rubbed at the strapping on her wrist, the lines around her mouth deepening. ‘She hasn’t done that since she was a little girl.
‘And then this morning she apologised and promised she’d never do anything else like that again. Apparently, from now on, she’ll always listen to me and do as she’s told the first time.’
‘Yeah, right.’ Carrie raised her eyebrows. ‘And what did you say to that?’
Angela grinned, ‘That she’s still grounded for the rest of her life.’
‘Fair enough,’ said Carrie with a gentle laugh, glad to hear that mother and daughter were still okay.
‘Although I’m not sure what I’ll do if the picture of Richard carrying her out of the nightclub surfaces. There’ll be a couple of mothers on Facebook commenting, I can bet. The usual it-must-be-hard-being-a-single-parent, saccharine-sweet digs.’
‘You’ll get over that. Besides, it will give them something to be jealous about, they haven’t met Richard Maddox in person.’
‘It’s not that, more the fact that any picture is there forever. And then it’s shared on Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat. Jade could be notorious by the time she goes back to school.’
Carrie frowned. Damn, her sister had a point. Gossip went viral in a matter of seconds on social media. Look how Jade found the picture on YouTube of Richard’s bottom.
‘I guess you’re right. It’s the times we live in. But we’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it. Let’s hope the paparazzi will have bigger and better stories to sell.’
They’d settled down for lunch when the buzzer at the door announced the arrival of a visitor at the gate. Carrie shifted in her seat, an electric tingle of anticipation firing at the thought it might be Richard. Had he finished work early? Even as she half-rose from her chair, Jade had already jumped up. ‘I’ll go. I’ll go.’
‘I don’t know who she thinks it’s going to be,’ said Angela, cutting another slice of bread. ‘This turned out quite well, but it isn’t quite French bread yet.’
‘Tastes good enough to me.’
Angela was determined, with Marisa’s help, to master making French baguettes before she left.
Carrie took another slice and loaded it up with the creamy goat’s cheese local to the area.
‘Hello my favourite ladies.’
She took a sharp, indrawn breath. A piece of bread lodged itself in her windpipe.
‘A-A-A-lan,’ she wheezed, the crust catching, razor-sharp as she tried to choose between breathing or choking.
Angela poured a glass of water, so hastily that it overfilled and splashed all over the table.
Spluttering and gasping, it took Carrie a good few seconds to stop coughing.
Alan dumped his cycle helmet on the table and crouched beside, her rubbing her back, looking extremely red-faced and with his sandy hair plastered to his head. ‘It’s okay. Breathe.’
Eventually she managed to bring the crumb up and swallowed down the glass of water.
Her face had turned bright pink and her chest felt rather tight.
‘I wanted to surprise you but not quite like this,’ he said with a perturbed frown. ‘Are you okay?’
‘F-fine. W-went down the wrong way.’
‘Better now?’
‘Yes, thanks. When did you get … I mean how did you get here?’
He beamed and pulled out a chair.
‘Sorry, Alan, can I get you a drink or anything?’ Angela jumped up.
‘Anything long, cold and soft. Those hills are thirsty work.’
‘You didn’t cycle here?’ asked Carrie in horror.
‘I did.’ He beamed. ‘I got a train to Nice from Geneva. Put my bike on in Switzerland. Stayed in Nice last night. Left at seven this morning. Gorgeous trip. I thought I’d surprise you.’
‘You’ve done that.’ Carrie felt faint. ‘How long did that take?
‘Five hours’ cycling but I took plenty of breaks. I wasn’t sure how tough the going would be, which is why I didn’t call. But it took less time than I thought. I decided to crack on until I got here. I must say, it’s worth that cycle up hill. This a fabulous spot. You’ve certainly fallen on your feet here.’
He stood up and walked to the edge of the terrace, his hand shading his face as he took in the view. ‘Very nice indeed.’
‘It is. We’ve been very lucky.’ How did it happen that she had nothing to say to him? Every word stuck in her throat.
‘And look at you. Sun maiden. All tanned and golden.’ He came forward, clasping her forearms, his eyes roving across her face, as if checking everything was still in place. ‘Wow,’ he took a surprised step back. ‘You look amazing. So different. Is it your hair? I swear its grown, or maybe I’m not used to seeing it messy like this.’ He gathered up a handful and pushed it over her shoulder. ‘Must be a pain in this heat.’
‘Thanks,’ she cleared her throat and self-consciously touched her hair.
He leaned in to kiss her on the mouth and she closed her eyes, framing her lips to kiss him back with a sense of dread. Would he know? Could he tell that her kisses were different now? To her relief, he contented himself with a brief peck, although his eyes twinkled suggestively as he whispered. ‘Time enough for that later.’
Her heart sank.
Angela bustled back, bringing him a long, tall glass of her home-made lemonade, which had become her holiday speciality.
‘Come out on the patio, the view’s wonderful.’
‘It looks as if you’ve struck gold here. It’s a fabulous villa. Plenty of space. And great cycling around here.’
‘It is a beautiful villa,’ agreed Angela, her eyes nervous and worried.
‘Fuck me, Auntie Carrie, you should see …’ Jade came running out of the house. Her mouth closed with a horrified snap when she saw Alan.
‘Jade! Language.’ Angela’s eyes flashed fury. ‘You’re in enough trouble as it is, after your behaviour last night.’
Jade winced and tucked the phone she’d been waving behind her back, throwing Carrie one last mutinous, signal- laden look.
‘What have you been doing? Getting drunk with the local teenage boys?’ joked Alan, oblivious to the strained atmosphere almost vibrating between the three women. ‘When in France … and all that. Were you very sick? Kiss a few boys?’
‘Something like that,’ said Angela, her face and neck taut with suppressed tension. ‘In fact, Jade, why don’t we go and have a little chat? Leave Carrie and Alan to spend some time together.’
Jade flounced off, Angela taking grim steps in her wake.
‘Oh dear, have I walked in on a row? I suppose when we’re married, I’ll have to get involved. I’m not sure I want to be head of the family and the disciplinarian.’
Carrie could just imagine Jade’s reaction to that. ‘I doubt you’ll have to. It’s not as if they’d be living with you, at yours, ours, I mean.’
‘We need to sort out our living arrangements sooner rather than later.’ Alan laughed. ‘You’re getting very confused.’
He didn’t know the half of it. Her brain had gone into complete melt-down and all she could think about was the way she smelled.
Could he smell sex on her? The bizarre thought wouldn’t leave her alone. Could she go and discreetly shower again? She felt like an illicit smoker worrying about getting rid of the scent of nicotine and tar. Shame you couldn’t scrub away a guilty conscience with soap and shampoo.
She shot a slightly resentful look towards Alan. If only he’d given her notice that he was on his way.
Then she
pulled herself up short. Would it have made any difference?
‘Do you mind if I go and freshen up? Unpack my things?’
‘Of course not … I’ll show you … the … my room.’
‘I’ll see you outside. There are towels and things in the en-suite.
She left him to it, almost running out of the room when he stripped off his black lycra cycling shorts.
Jade lurked down the corridor waiting for her, Angela in her shadow.
‘Carrie,’ she hissed. ‘You’ve got to see this.’ She held up her phone, wide-eyed with drama and mystery.
‘What’s wrong?’ Carrie snapped. Jade’s behaviour last night had left her on the stickiest wicket imaginable and her patience with her niece had all but evaporated.
‘You’re going viral.’ Jade showed her the screen. ‘I was trying to tell you earlier, except Captain Goody Two Shoes rocked up.’
‘Don’t be rude, Jade,’ said Angela.
‘Mum, her lame fiancé is the least of her problems. Look.’
Jade thrust out her phone. A picture of Carrie and Richard on the beach, completely naked, took up the whole of the screen.
The colour leeched out of Carrie’s face. She could almost feel each blood cell being evacuated. Light-headed for a second, she grabbed the console table and tried to steady herself.
‘Where … when …? Shit!’ Carrie sank to the floor, her wobbly legs giving up the ghost, welcoming the cold slap of the white tiles on her bare legs.
‘Where did you find this?’
‘Where didn’t I? It’s on Snackbitch Bites, Hub Bub. You name it, every celebrity gossip website going.’
‘Who can see it?’
‘You’re kidding. It’s a question of who can’t. Everyone’s asking who you are.’
‘Oh God.’ She peered at the picture, dropping the phone into her lap. Absolutely nothing left to the imagination.
She sank her head into her hands and pulled up her knees. ‘I don’t believe it. I wonder how many people have seen this.’
Jade winced and sat down next to her aunt, putting her arm around Carrie’s shoulders. ‘This is from the Mirror’s website.’
‘Shit.’
Jade took the phone back. ‘And on this one, and this one.’
‘Well, at least it’s not in the paper itself,’ said Angela. ‘At least, I hope not.’
‘Great. That’s not that much of a consolation,’ Carrie snapped. Seriously? Angela couldn’t honestly believe that less people surfed the internet than read a national newspaper.
She rubbed at her forehead as if it might ease the tension building there. This couldn’t be happening.
‘I wonder if Richard knows about this. I’d have thought he would have tex … oh shit I left my phone in …’ She clamped her lips shut. Her phone currently lay on Richard’s bedside table.
‘Hello! He’ll be well used to it,’ Jade pointed out.
‘He might be but I’m not. Oh God, what’s Alan going to say?’
‘He might not see it,’ said Angela. She snatched the phone from Jade and switched the screen off with a reproving glare at both of them. ‘In fact, it’s highly unlikely.’
She took Carrie by the arm and led her towards the kitchen, her voice calm and level.
‘Think about it. Alan isn’t interested in those gossip and news sites and, no disrespect, but out of context, no one would know it’s you. You look quite different. Jade’s spotted it because the picture’s of Richard and we know you were with him. If anyone else even noticed a resemblance they’d never imagine you know him.’
Carrie exhaled, the light-headed sensation receding. ‘You’re right.’
Her shoulders sagged and she gave her sister a hug. ‘Of course you’re right. And Richard’s not going to tell anyone.’
She motioned Jade over. ‘Is there a caption or anything? Does it say where it was taken?’
‘Richard Maddox gets in the all-together with mystery brunette,’ read out Jade. ‘Richard, star of Conspiracy of Men and An Unsuitable Man, was spotted taking time out from his latest movie project, Turn on the Stars with a mystery beauty. The couple made the most of their secret beach hideaway and took to the sea in a cheeky skinny dip.’
‘Phew. You’re right, Angela. No one at home is going to have a clue it’s me.’ With a pathetic attempt at a smile, she added, ‘Especially not if they’re describing me as a “mystery beauty”.’
Alan emerged looking clean and polished. ‘That’s a fantastic shower. Exactly what the doctor ordered. This place is fantastic. Do you mind if I have a look around?’
‘No.’ Carrie sat up. ‘Did you want me to show you around?’
He laughed. ‘No, I wouldn’t want to disturb your sunbathing. It’s too hot for me. I’ll have a nose around, get myself acclimatised before I sit in that nice shady spot on the terrace with the paper.’
‘Are you sure?’ she asked. ‘I should be a better hostess. Can I get you a drink or anything? There’s heaps of food in the fridge. Soft and alcoholic drinks. We’ve been spoiled.Marisa the maid pops in nearly every day to check we’ve got everything we need and stocks up, even though there’s plenty of food. Angela is in her element.’ She frowned. ‘I’ll come with you.’
He dropped a kiss on her forehead.
‘You stay put. I’m a big boy now. I’m not used to sitting still for too long.’
‘I’ve been reading next term’s texts,’ said Carrie, crossing her fingers on one hand tucked behind her waist. One play counted, didn’t it?
‘Well that’s very productive,’ said Alan, tousling her hair.
Carrie held herself rigid. Why now, all of a sudden, did that familiar gesture feel patronising, as if he were patting her on the head like a dog? She had to get herself out of this rather resentful mindset. It wasn’t his fault that his timing sucked or that she had no idea what to do.
She lay back on the sun lounger, trying to get comfortable. Her leg ached when she put it that way. Something dug in her back. Her arms felt too heavy laid by her side and then her shoulders itched on the chair. Sweat trickled down her cleavage and she swiped it away, her fingers fidgety and twitchy.
She turned again, sweaty limbs sticking to the towel. Now the sun’s rays were too hot on her skin and her head throbbed as if it might explode at any second. Thoughts careered through her head, jostling for attention like voices in a crowd shouting to be heard, each one louder than the last.
She was furious with Alan for turning up and spoiling her lovely daydreams of last night with Richard and even more furious with herself for wanting to lie here, reliving every touch, kiss and peak of desire from last night.
Alan was a genuine, decent, kind man. She gnawed the knuckle on her index finger, biting down hard, welcoming the pain. She deserved it. Only a complete cow would be unfaithful to a man like him. She should feel guilty. Horribly, horribly guilty. Not keep going back to that warm glow inside her, worrying at it like a wobbly tooth. Alan was here. He loved her. Why, then, did her brain persist in replaying Richard’s feather-light touch as he traced the outline of her collarbone, the weight of him when he collapsed on top of her or the sheer joy of falling asleep in his arms?
An insect buzzed close to her ear. Jade and Angela talked as they paddled in the pool and she could hear the paper rattle as Alan sat in the shade under the veranda by the kitchen. Should she go for a swim? Maybe a walk? Her legs, restless and agitated, moved again and she stretched her feet, wanting to kick at the bed.
Pages rustled, a shake and a slap of paper and then swift footsteps in sandals, flap, flap-flapping towards her. A shadow crossed her face and she blinked open her eyes to find Alan standing over her, a newspaper in his hand, which he kept slapping against the other hand.
Grim lines tautened his mouth, tiny fissures fanning out like cracks in stone.
‘Carrie. Please tell me this isn’t you!’ The plea in his voice hit her hard as he held out the paper folded in half.
She took it and
winced. In print, even with the little black strategic boxes positioned to create a semblance of modesty, the picture looked a whole lot worse – the way her head lifted towards Richard, a come-hither smile playing at her mouth. The image of them looking carefree and happy in each other’s company, suggested much more beneath the surface. It was a picture-perfect snapshot of romance.
‘Carrie?’ In that single word she heard the entreaty in his voice, begging her to deny it.
She shot up into a sitting position, her agitated body grateful at last for some activity. With a sigh, she sought to frame the words. Alan frowned, the creases in his forehead working hard, as if struggling to find a logical explanation that would refute the damning picture.
‘We need to talk.’ She grabbed her wrap, needing to cover up.
‘Talk?’ Alan paled. Shock skittering in his eyes. ‘Are you saying this picture is … real? That it is you?’
She led him around the end of the house to the little balcony with the rattan furniture, where she’d first talked to Richard. It had turned into her personal emotional battleground.
Perching on the very edge of one of the seats, she laid the paper down on the rattan table and clasped her hands. Alan sat opposite, spine straight, rubbing his knee with one hand.
‘It’s not what it seems.’ No matter how she phrased the words, they’d sound like a cliché.
‘What, that’s not you? You’re not naked on a beach. And that’s not Richard Maddox.’ His voice had a touch of acid now.
It was far more preferable to the wounded tone earlier. Convenient too. It loosened the noose of guilt if you were under fire.
‘It is me. Yes.’ She swallowed and rubbed her cheeks, trying to pick the right words.
‘So talk me through it. How the hell did you meet him? And end up on a beach with him with no clothes on. Did you sleep with him?’
She closed her eyes, weighing up the truth.
‘I didn’t sleep with him, then. Believe it or not, those pictures are innocent.’ Not that she could claim innocence, far from it but she didn’t want him judging her on a lie. The truth was bad enough. ‘People go on nudist beaches. It’s not a crime to be naked. It doesn’t automatically mean you have sex.’
