Seven Days Away

by Ruth Hay

  * * *

  Marian and Aylward Beck had been forewarned. Marian had related to her husband the short and worrying conversation she had had with their granddaughter. Aylward had kept his own counsel about the possible cause of Portia’s distress but as soon as he saw Megan approaching with a desperate-looking Portia trailing along beside her, he knew the situation was more serious than either of them had guessed. One look at the girl told him volumes about her mental state.

  “Mother, will you talk some sense into Portia? She’s saying some nonsense about being pregnant. I can’t make out what she wants from me. Please help me out and get father to do his psychology thing for me. I have to go.”

  With that she fled the scene, more like a criminal than a mother. Marian took Portia’s hands and sat her down at the end of her own lounge chair. The child was frozen despite the noon heat. Marian put aside for now the inescapable realization that her daughter, Megan, was a horrible mother. She asked Aylward to find a waiter and order a tray of hot soup, coffee and sandwiches for all of them. It looked like they were going to need some sustenance.

  * * *

  Abigail and Louise made their way to the beach giggling like two schoolgirls who had skipped out of their studies for the day. Abigail was dressed in a two-piece swimsuit with one bare shoulder in a dazzling, all-over pattern of blues and greens. This was topped with a knee length blue cover-up and a matching brimmed sunhat. Her sister, with fewer finances to call upon, had an old purple suit on, which she had hidden under loose pants and a big T-shirt. She had borrowed a hat and beach bag from her mother before setting out for the day. The sisters caught the attention of several older people in the resort because of their high spirits and youthful looks. Louise got as many glances as Abigail because she had that mysterious glow about her, suggesting love in the air.

  “So, tell! Who is this new guy?” They were paddling along the shoreline where tiny waves dampened the sand. The fresh breeze was enough to make it necessary to hold tight to their hat brims.

  “Oh, Abi, I told you all I know. It’s just a nice friendship. I can’t be sure how it will go.”

  “But you really like him, sis. I can see that.”

  “Well, I do like him but that’s no guarantee he feels the same.”

  “You are hoping he’ll miss you?”

  “He’s busy preparing for another substitute job at the college. I might not see him for a while.”

  “Oh, I’m guessing you will, Lulu. He‘s a good catch. A guy with a job, good looking and a little older and he found you, not the other way around.”

  Louise was feeling a trifle uneasy about this analysis. She belonged to a superstitious section of society that believed it was safer to let fate take a role. Too much interference was unproductive.

  “Talk about something else,” she begged, “what about your love life?”

  “What love life? Working the hours I do leaves no time for romance.”

  “Isn’t there someone of interest in your office, or are your sights set much higher?”

  Abigail was surprised to hear her sister hit so close to the mark in both respects. Considering the fact that they had little time together these days with each living in their own apartments, it was to Lulu’s credit that she knew so much.

  “Well, I will admit I want to be a television presenter eventually, but I am currently aiming to impress my boss, Curtis Soames.”

  “How did he feel about you sneaking away from the office for seven whole days? I’m betting he would not be impressed by that.”

  “Right again, little sister! You are smarter than the average for sure. I’ll tell you a secret but you have to swear not to say a word to anyone.”

  Louise was intrigued. She stopped walking and turned to her sister with an eager expression. Whatever this was it would distract her from mooning over the amazing Jason Schuster.

  “I am on assignment for the newspaper. I am finding out what the security features are in this resort.”

  “Why on earth does that matter to your paper?”

  “There have been murders in Mexican resorts in the last few years. A Canadian couple were killed most recently. Since so many North Americans holiday here now, Curtis thought I could do some research for him.”

  “Wow! So that’s what today’s walkabout is for?”

  “Partly. I do want to see more of the place, of course. It’s about combining work and play. For example, I will be checking security tonight when we return from the restaurant after dark.”

  “Very cunning, Abi! You were the one who suggested the outing, am I right?”

  “True enough! Now you will have to be my secret partner. If we work together we can cover twice as much ground. I have an idea to go off the resort tomorrow on a sponsored trip. I think if we take Devon along with us the seniors will approve.”

  “Neat! As long as you pay, Abi. Neither Dev nor I can afford the prices.”

  “It’s on me. Now let’s discuss the obnoxious Portia. What’s up with her?”

  The discussion about Portia’s weird behaviour, including the incident with the bikini and her mother’s poor judgement, occupied the rest of the beach walk interspersed with side trips to some booths selling trinkets and souvenirs and a rest stop for cool mango smoothies. They reached their destination at the opposite end of the beach from the previous afternoon and explored everything there for several hours.

  Abigail found it very pleasant to have a partner aware of her interests and the time went by, split between fun and research.

  * * *

  As soon as they had eaten their food, Marian sent her husband back to their apartment while she spoke privately to Portia. Her first task was to determine the facts about the supposed pregnancy.

  She began by gently asking how far along she was. Portia was still in a state of blank despair but she scrabbled in her long brown robe and brought out a calendar showing her grandmother the number of months since she had had a period.

  Marian was not convinced. The girl had an unhealthy pallor. There was none of the glow of pregnancy about her. She looked and sounded ill. Marian had heard how her husband had instantly recognized signs of mental illness in the girl. He would tackle that problem when Marian had made her enquiries.

  As luck would have it, the temperature was rising as the afternoon advanced. Even in the shade it was becoming oppressive. Portia willingly removed her outer garment and Marian saw her figure in the short summer nightdress she wore underneath. There was no sign of a swollen belly. Relief washed over her. The girl had enough problems without a pregnancy complicating her life. For now, she would behave as if the pregnancy was a fact. Through sympathetic questioning and a supportive manner, something Portia’s mother seemed to be incapable of providing, she would gather as much information as she could about the circumstances that had led her granddaughter to this conclusion.

  As soon as possible they would return to the apartment. Marian had already decided Portia would stay with her grandparents in the mezzanine. An excuse could be made to justify this. The girl needed security, peace and TLC from both Aylward and her. It could be a matter of life and death.

  As they made their way slowly out of the pool area, with Portia again shrouded in her long robe, Marian wondered, fearfully, what would have become of this young woman had she not arrived in Mexico and had the benefit of the care and expertise her grandparents could provide.

  A dull ache was forming in her heart as she realized her former high opinion of her only daughter, Megan, and her husband Maurice, had taken a dip from which it was unlikely to ever recover.

  Chapter 11

  Day Five; Tuesday.

  Eyes Only for Curtis Soames from Abigail Beck.

  Supervision is most intense in pools which are scattered throughout the entire resort.

  In these areas waiters are constantly circulating to see if guests need food, drinks etc.

  There is even a pool guard, dressed all in red, who watches the swimmers.
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  Saw local Mexicans selling goods on beach stands. Presumably, they had permission to do so.

  On long beach walk saw only a handful of employees setting up nets for games.

  * * *

  After dark, low lying path lights on posts come on but these are not all that bright.

  In a few spots where a cement path changes to boardwalk, or steps are needed, you can find a resort guard with a torch telling you to be careful.

  Haven’t yet found any sign of a doctor’s office. There’s a ‘pharmacy’ consisting of a couple of shelves of stuff. Nothing more potent than aspirin.

  I was warned not to go wandering out of the resort without protection.

  Puerto Vallarta old town has had serious incidents mostly involving older people.

  Tomorrow I will take a resort-sponsored trip to see what the security measures are.

  Dangers.

  No barriers to beach access from the sea. Easy at night.

  Buildings are open for walk through on ground level.

  Resort vehicles moving quickly all the time.

  Housekeeping staff have key access to all rooms.

  Activities like the water slide and the lazy river ride are left to parent supervision.

  * * *

  Postscript: Curtis, can you get a stringer to put this together for me?

  I can’t get the time for that kind of finished product and do the research.

  * * *

  Curtis Soames to Abigail Beck.

  Stringer is on it.

  Keep up good work but be cautious. US author just published book about drug trade in Mexico. He states, “Every 26 hours a journalist is killed. Murder without consequences unless you are a US citizen.”

  Interview on CBC radio.

  You are far from Mexico City but be warned.

  Do not reveal what you are doing.

  * * *

  “But Aylward, I think it’s more important to stay here with Portia. She needs both of us.”

  “I know that, my dear Marian. I have two good reasons to golf with Maurice this morning. I need to sound him out on his own and I also need to inform him about the condition of his daughter. I doubt if Megan has said anything to him about Portia’s move upstairs here. Just let the girl sleep as long as she can. I gave her a mild sedative last night. When she wakes she should find you here. You have established an excellent rapport already. Try to get more food into Portia. She’s been starving herself as a punishment. If you can get any more out of her about why she thought she was pregnant with no doctor’s confirmation, that will be a good start for the serious work needed later today.”

  “Very well, Aylward. I suppose you know best, but don’t delay your return. I am out of my depth here.”

  “You, Marian? There’s no depth beyond your capabilities in the entire world.”

  His wife watched as he made his way carefully down the inner stairs. She knew his compliment was meant to reassure her but it was barely light outside and Aylward and Maurice could not be expected to return before ten or eleven. She tiptoed over to the padded lounger where Portia was cradled snugly in two blankets. No danger of her rolling off the furniture. She was stick thin.

  Marian thought she should gather the ingredients for a decent breakfast for Portia. There was little left in the elder Becks’ fridge after last night’s meal for three. They had made excuses for not going to the sunset restaurant, pleading tiredness for themselves and Portia. Marian explained the girl had asked to move upstairs as she was finding it impossible to sleep in the lounge with two others there and Devon coming and going from the balcony. Everyone accepted these excuses and set off without them.

  The cousins seemed quite glad to be relieved of Portia’s company. Marian had decided something needed to be done about that attitude once Portia’s other problems had been tackled.

  She found Terrence and Jillian, dressed, and returning from the coffee cart carrying their own large mugs of coffee and a mug of tea for her.

  “Father passed us in the hall,” whispered Terrence, as he handed over the hot tea to his mother. “He told us you were up and would need food supplies. I’ve checked the fridge already and there’s not much left for ten people. Take everything you need for now, mother. Our girls and Devon are off for the day to an island for snorkeling and they will get breakfast before the start. Jill and I are going shopping. There’s a village just outside the resort with a market and crafts people. We’ll eat there. With two of us to carry bags, we can bring back plenty.”

  “Thank you, Terrence and Jillian! Don’t think you have to do all the cooking, my boy. There are lots of places to eat and you were not brought here simply to work.”

  “I’m enjoying it, mother, and Jill and I are looking forward to a few hours together on our own.”

  Marian saw Jillian exchange a shy smile with her husband. Things were going well for them it seemed. She uttered a prayer of thanks that something in this holiday week was going well.

  The couple went off and Marian found a plastic bag in the kitchen which she filled with a carton of milk and the remains of the orange juice. There were three eggs and half a loaf, some delicious butter and a small carton of hazelnut spread the young girls liked. That would have to do for now. She did not want to risk breakfast in the Al Fresco. Portia was in such a fragile state, she might take off and disappear altogether.

  * * *

  The Jack Nicklaus designer golf course was much busier on Tuesday morning. Aylward secured a cart and driver but there was a delay getting onto the first green. Maurice chatted about the weather with his father-in-law but was hesitant to broach the money topic in public. His nerves were getting the better of him. Last night’s online session had cost him several more thousands and he was distraught.

  Maurice overheard two groups of players making bets on their golf scores and he could not resist asking in on the action. It was a holiday situation and the men, a happy crowd escaping from their womenfolk for a few hours, were glad to include him. The bet was on the highest individual score for the course that morning. Maurice did a quick assessment of the fitness of the group of men and picked a number in the middling range. Everyone put twenty dollars into the pot, held by the golf pro, and Maurice returned to his partner knowing the win, even if he was lucky, would not even approach the amount he needed to get out of debt.

  Aylward, sitting in his cart, waiting, had watched the entire transaction. Maurice had not asked him to contribute. He took this as a sign he was uncomfortable with his wife’s father knowing about his betting.

  Aylward wondered how significant this incident was. His objective had been to find out about the true nature of the husband of his only daughter. He suspected him of laziness with regard to his research book, but in the light of the previous day’s events concerning Megan and Portia, it was all the more crucial for him to find out how much Maurice could be depended upon in the crisis that was about to descend upon his family.

  By the third hole, Aylward had assessed his companion’s golf prowess as proficient, but not expert. Maurice had played before but not lately. He was an acceptable partner in the game, although somewhat distracted, but he caused no delays. The larger group of players demanded speedy shots. Aylward determined to use their wait times to advance his enquiries.

  “What did Megan tell you about yesterday with Portia?”

  Maurice looked bemused. Clearly he was not informed.

  “Well, we ate and drank quite heartily at the restaurant and by the time we got back we both just fell into bed. There was no conversation and this morning she was asleep when we left. What are you getting at, Aylward?”

  This was not going to be easy but there was no way around it. Aylward took a deep breath of the cool, moist, morning air and began to describe the incident by the pool when Megan had abandoned their daughter. He added Marian’s later conclusions about the supposed pregnancy.

  When he finished, Maurice was speechless for two whole minutes. His response wou
ld be significant.

  Aylward waited.

  “I can’t take this in! How did this happen? Why didn’t Megan make me aware of the situation with Portia? She’s the one closest to her daughter. I had no idea, I promise you.”

  Aylward detected panic and wondered why. Did he expect to be accused of something?

  “Megan may be to blame for many things regarding your daughter, but not for concealing information.

  She had no more idea about Portia’s distress than any of us until yesterday. That, in itself, is of some concern, of course.”

  “I see.” Maurice was indeed seeing how fast his chance of asking his father-in-law for money to cover his debts was disappearing into a black hole.

  “What do you recommend, Aylward?” I have no idea how to deal with this. Best to get the old guy involved. Hadn’t he been some kind of psychologist once?

  “I will do what I can for now. It’s not strictly ethical to treat a family member but we are in a difficult situation here and Portia can’t wait for help. You and Megan will have to make adjustments to your lifestyle to get your daughter the kind of parental and professional support she will need in the coming months or years. I fear she has been severely neglected emotionally.”

  The cart jerked forward. The game resumed but neither man was now in a fit state to enjoy it.

  When they completed nine holes, Aylward called a halt and they decamped for the clubhouse. They sipped their drinks silently until the other groups of golfers began to arrive and Maurice perked up. Aylward watched in disgust as he strolled over to one of the men and laughed heartily as he pocketed his winnings from the bet. He mentioned nothing of this transaction to his father-in-law when he returned to their table, thinking he was unaware of what had transpired earlier.