by Carrie Stone
The screen behind them changed to a flashing congratulations sign and the crowd applauded enthusiastically, as my mother and Sampson made their way off the stage.
I stood up and greeted them both with kisses as they approached the table, discreetly squeezing my mother's hand in support. The music started up again and the lady in the sparkly dress took centre stage and began to explain the auction rules.
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
As the charity auction got underway I glanced across towards Soreena's still empty seat. Since our altercation earlier, she hadn't been seen. I had been tempted to call her and try to resolve things but decided against it until my temper was calmer on the matter. After all, I didn’t want to make things worse between us.
'Lizzie, are you around tomorrow?' my mother asked breaking away from Sampson's embrace and turning towards me.
'Yes I think so. I have to tie up a few things to do with the launch, but otherwise I'm free' I said, hoping fervently she hadn’t decided to throw an impromptu engagement party. My mother picked up her fork, tucking into the dressed crab in front of her.
'Good, I was thinking we could have a family celebration.' She took a large mouthful of food, her eyes glassy with excitement and champagne.
Family celebration? But I was the only family she had in Spain and as far as I knew most of Sampson's family lived in Jamaica and America.
'Which family are you referring to?' I asked confused. She stared at me.
'Us three and Sampson’s Jemima of course.' She took another bite of crab, avoiding looking up.
Jemima? But she was Sampson's teenage daughter that lived in New York with her mother. I was on the understanding that Sampson had an awkward relationship, and limited contact with the seventeen year old? Sampson put down his fork and looked strangely at my mother.
'My Jemima?' his face registered confusion ‘but she's in New York.’
All eyes turned to my mother who was smirking happily to herself.
'Well darling, I knew how important getting engaged would be for us and since I haven't met Jemima in person, I've arranged for her to fly over tomorrow and join us for a celebration' she patted Sampson's hand affectionately.
An awkward silence descended as I stared down at the food in front of me, unsure where to focus my attention. My mother should have never taken it upon herself to invite Jemima to Spain. What would have happened if Sampson had refused her proposal; Jemima would be arriving into a war zone.
Sampson stayed silent; his expression devoid of emotion. My mother's eyes darted towards mine with a worried look as she started to register concern.
'That's wonderful news' I prompted, trying to lighten the mood and encourage Sampson into a response. Sampson continued to stay quiet for a few moments whilst my mother made further frantic eye movements in my direction. He suddenly looked up with a grin and squeezed my mother's arm.
'Yes I suppose it is' he said with a smile.
As my mother's composure relaxed, I was amused to discover that she had given Jemima the impression I would be escorting her around Marbella, showing her the sights. I had two days remaining in Spain to tie up the launch, settle things with Soreena and prepare myself for my airport meeting with Edward. If my mother thought I'd be sipping cocktails next to a teenager in a beach bar, whilst ogling seventeen year old Spanish boys, she was very mistaken.
Excusing myself from the table, I decided to find a quiet place to call Soreena. The longer things were left unsaid, the less chance we had of resolving the matter before I returned to the UK. Especially now I would be forced to endure a family celebration.
Weaving my way through the tables, a hushed silence swept around the marquee. The auctioneer had stopped speaking and faces around me were registering shock. Nervous giggles and sly looks were being directed towards where my mother and Sampson were seated, staring intently at each other, blissfully unaware.
An arm reached out and grabbed me. Flinching at the force, I span around to see Mark smirking at me.
'What on earth do you think you are doing?' I sneered, releasing my arm from his grip.
His dark hair had been slicked backwards, giving him an almost lecherous edge. How had I found this man attractive? Mark pointed behind me towards the stage, the smirk fixed firmly on his face.
I turned, following his gaze and recoiling in horror. The presentation screen was alight bearing a photo of my mother with her breasts half exposed, sitting astride a chair. A side profile of Sampson dominated the photo, muscular tanned buttocks and manhood on display. I swallowed hard, forcing back bile as ripples of nausea overcame me. Mark moved in close to my ear.
'Looks like someone's mother got their photos mixed up.'
I shuddered, feeling the heat of his breath against my face. He licked his lips.
'Looking at your mother's tasty breasts has made me realise I was sniffing at the wrong tree.'
My stomach lurched as he grinned at his admission before walking past me towards his table.
Three staff began scrambling to unplug power to the screen, causing an almost immediate reaction; the photo disappeared and blackness took its place.
I looked over towards my mother's table where she was sitting hand over her mouth, staring into space. Sampson was next to her, head bent forward in his hands.
Rooted to the spot in shock, I didn’t know what to do. My mother's sex life had just been publicly displayed. The photo had left no room for error. She had been clearly visible as had Sampson's huge manhood.
No wonder my mother had taken it upon herself to propose to him after just three months. He was a rarity.
I began slowly walking back towards our table wondering what I could possibly say to make the situation bearable. The auctioneer started speaking again apologising for the malfunction, no reference being made to the photo display.
As I approached the table, my mother eyed me tearfully and Sampson smiled weakly at me, embarrassed. I sat down next to my mother taking her hand.
'Try not to get upset about it. Most people probably didn’t see it anyway' I said in an attempt to sound reassuring. However, I knew that the only people present that hadn’t seen the photo properly, had to have been blind or deeply religious. My mother looked at me distraught and wild eyed.
'I didn’t realise that picture was even on that file' she said, tears spilling down her cheeks.
I rubbed her arm, aware that people were glancing slyly towards the table watching for our reactions. Sampson put his arm lovingly around my mother’s neck and stroked her shoulder.
'Don't worry about it, babe. It’s our engagement night – who cares what they think.' He looked around fiercely, eyes challenging those looking in his direction. I watched as people lowered their eyes, not wishing to pry further. My mother remained with her head firmly facing downwards in shame.
The awkward atmosphere was broken with the sound of the band striking up the chords of a lively song. A hustle of excitement washed across the crowd as people stood and headed towards the stage area to dance.
'Come on, let's dance.' I took a firm grip on my mother's arm and pulled her up, out of her seat.
'What are you doing?' she hissed at me fiercely, wrenching her arm from my grip 'I have socially humiliated myself and you expect me to dance it off?' She laughed incredulous.
I gritted my teeth in frustration. It hadn’t occurred to her that not only had she embarrassed herself, but had also done the same for Sampson in the process. Her usual selfish demeanour was rearing its ugly head.
'Yes I do, as a matter of fact' I said, yanking her arm again and forcefully marching her towards the dance floor. It was only out of fear of further humiliation, that she didn’t resist my force and instead plastered a smile on her face.
A larger lady in a navy dress edged closer to us, swaying her arms to the music and shuffling her feet with as much grace as a chicken.
'Psst' she hissed in my mother's direction. 'I just want to say, fancy you bagging yourself a man
like that! My golly that's a big man' she winked conspiratorially 'If you know what I mean.'
Startled, I looked at my mother who appeared just as shocked, but suppressing a smile as her face lit up.
'Good on you, dear' the woman said before moving back towards her friends; all of whom nodded their approval in my mother's direction.
Raising my eyebrows and smiling in surprise at my mother, she glowed with pride, her look of humiliation of moments earlier, now forgotten. The song came to an end as the event organiser took the stage and people began to make their way back to their seats.
Sampson raised an eyebrow at me as my mother confidently took her seat and placed a kiss on his lips. I watched in amusement as she drank the last of her champagne and clapped excitedly as the host announced the auction was about to start.
Turning towards me, Sampson whispered 'Whatever you said or did kiddo, it worked wonders' and patted my back in thanks.
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE
Soreena had called the day after the charity ball, expressing profuse apology. After leaving the auction, she had gone to H's house to establish exact details of her assumed happenings and to deal him the same fate as she had my cheek. Through fear of knowing that I would be in a delicate position after causing a rift in my friendship with her, H had told her the truth of the kidnapping.
Her call had surprised me. Far from being angry and disappointed at H's revelation and deception, she had told me that she felt a deeper connection to him. Two people living a life that wasn't true to their own selves. She'd used the term twin-flame. I wondered if she also had been visiting the self help section of the book store.
As much as I felt reluctant at agreeing to show H compassion and empathy, I vowed to Soreena that what happened would be kept confidential. Since arriving in Spain and rebuilding my relationship with her, I didn’t want to spend another five years without having contact. Even if it did mean I would have to see H again. Especially since she'd agreed to lend him the money needed to repay his debt.
Looking around at my mother's spacious white oak kitchen with its pretty mosaic tiles and black marble work surfaces, I felt a pang of sadness. In less than twenty four hours I would be flying back to the UK and my life there.
The only future contact with Soreena and my mother would be via telephone or email for a while. As much as my mother and I had our differences, this trip had been memorable and our bond seemed to be developing stronger as the years passed. Thinking about the surprise visit she had arranged for Jemima had brought a fresh perspective; she was finally looking past her own needs.
Jemima was currently with Sampson and my mother on a day trip around the sights of Marbella. Far from being the stubborn, troublesome teenager we had been led to believe, she was a reserved, shy, sweet natured girl.
In the day since her arrival, I’d taken great delight in spending time in her company. A wild mane of afro hair, chiselled features and long willowy legs, in a few years she would most certainly be fulfilling her dream of modelling. Sampson wasn't so thrilled at this career choice, certain that her naïve ways would cause her to be taken advantage of. I had disagreed, encouraging her to aim towards her goal. After all, who wanted to turn twenty eight and realise they hadn't achieved anything that they'd set out to?
Our family celebratory meal the day previous, in a small Italian restaurant, would have been perfect if only Stella could have been present. The laughter, warmth and happiness that radiated around the table really did suggest that family links were special. It was the first time in many years I’d truly felt part of a family unit.
Stella hadn't sounded surprised upon hearing the news of our mother's engagement. Part of me wondered if she had already known about the planned proposal. Yet her distant, numb responses on the telephone also suggested she wasn't fully focused on the news. Not that my mother had noticed in her heightened state of happiness.
The kitchen clock chimed loudly causing me to jump with a start. Four o’clock. I still hadn't received a response from Ronnie. My final meeting with Sasha and her team had gone particularly well earlier. She had appeared impressed with the draft copy of the press release, voicing small concerns yet nothing that couldn’t be amended.
David's photography had been more of an issue. We had both agreed that the lighting and angle in all of the shots hadn't provided the most flattering images. A second shoot had already been arranged under Sasha's direction. As long as the images were ready ahead of the launch and publication run, it wouldn’t cause problems my end. Ronnie however had raised various questions that needed tying up before the end of the working day. It wasn't much help if I was to remain clueless as to what those questions were.
The electronic gates began whirring in the distance as I concentrated on my inbox. From the garden, the dog’s high pitched howls and barks alerted me that my mother and the others had arrived home. I closed my laptop as a bustle of voices and shopping bags echoed through the hallway.
'Darling, it's us. Can you lend a hand please' my mother’s voice called out to me. What possibly could they need help with when there were three of them?
Walking into the cool, dim hallway with Coco and Lavender two steps ahead of me, I noticed Sampson's Land Rover through the opened door, packed full with bags. Some of them had already been deposited in the hallway entrance.
Jemima struggled up the steps, the dogs circling her feet as she proceeded with trepidation, arms weighed down with goods.
'What's all this stuff?’
Jemima laughed, eyes twinkling. 'Crazy, isn't it - it's all for my new room. We got so much stuff' she gently laid the bags amongst the pile and bounded off towards the car for another load.
New room? What was she talking about? I walked towards the car, shaking my head as I watched my mother standing by the open boot, unhelpfully staring intently at her nail. She looked up.
'There you are. We need an extra set of hands to get all of this inside' she gestured towards the loaded car. 'I've just broken a nail, so I'm not going to be much use. I'll go stick the kettle on and leave you to it.'
Sampson appeared from behind the electronic gates almost hidden by a cardboard box as tall as it was wide.
'It’s lucky we managed to get this off the roof rack before we drove up the hill. The box is threatening to spill open' he said loudly in the direction of my mother, already nearing the hallway empty handed.
My head span in confusion. Had I missed something? They had told me they were off to spend the day showing Jemima some of the sights and yet now they were unloading enough goods to build a hotel. Grabbing two surprisingly heavy carrier bags from the car, I walked back into the hallway, past Jemima and towards the kitchen.
'That was quick' my mother said, filling the kettle with water; the table was littered with plaster wrappers and the offending nail fully secured.
'What are all of these bags for?' I asked, trying to keep the discernment from showing in my voice. My mother avoided my gaze, turning her back towards me.
'They're for Jemima's room.' Her tone was high pitched and excitable. It didn’t sound natural, forced even.
'What do you mean, Jemima's room?' I asked slowly, walking around to face her. Unable to avoid my eyes, she looked at me sheepishly with a small shrug of her shoulders.
'Don't get annoyed, Lizzie. Believe me, it's not my ideal situation either. But Sampson, he seemed so happy at the idea' she lowered her eyes. 'How could I say no?'
I opened my mouth in shock, a small laugh of disbelief escaping as I digested her words.
'Jemima is moving in here?'
'Well, not for too long. Well I hope not. But for now, yes. At least until she knows what she wants to do next. She's not been happy in New York, you see' my mother's voice trailed off and she sighed, sitting herself down.
I knew my mother well, and right now she was despairing at her lack of control. Jemima was hardly going to be any trouble, but my mother wasn't the nurturing type. The thought of having an adolescent
in her household would be hard for her. It had been enough having two of her own daughters living at home at one time.
I sat next to her, a wry smile on my lips. Less than forty eight hours after her engagement and she'd acquired herself a ready made family. Not quite what she'd been looking for, I suspected.
'Look, she'll be no trouble and you might even enjoy the female company. Give it a few months and I'm sure she'll be on her way again.' I said encouragingly.
Given that summer was fast approaching, it was unlikely Jemima would be going anywhere before the summer parties ended and life in the Costa del Sol calmed again. I didn't share this thought with my mother, wise enough herself to conclude likewise.
The kitchen door opened and Jemima swept into the room, Lavender in her arms and Sampson behind her.
'I'm so excited. I've put all the bags in the hallway, we can take them up after and get started on the decorating.' Her enthusiastic tone was hard not to smile along with. My mother's composure changed, she grinned warmly at Jemima's infectious excitement.
'OK. Let's have a coffee and then we can get started.'
Watching Sampson put his arms around my mother's shoulders and kiss her lightly on the head, I wondered if this was the start of a new phase for her. The much needed chance to be at some level a mothering figure to Jemima, and realise that she was capable of giving love as well as receiving it. It takes a stranger to sometimes help us to see the error of our ways and perhaps Jemima was that stranger.
'Drink up, Lizzie, we've got Jemima's room to sort' my mother instructed giving me a sly wink as she stood up and followed Jemima out of the room.
Who'd have thought I’d be spending part of my last twenty four hours in Spain decorating? Ronnie's email and my farewell dinner with Soreena were a distant thought as I climbed the stairs towards my new 'family'.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Passport control was heaving as I made my way towards it, heart heavy at the sight of hundreds of nationalities impatiently queuing for entry into London. Joining the shortest queue behind an Italian woman and her small child, I noticed my skin looked tanned in comparison to the airport ground staff. I hoped Edward would appreciate my healthy glow.
