The Memory Box

by Kathryn Hughes

  ‘Wow,’ said Stefano. ‘Such deceit. It is incredible.’

  Candice swigged her wine. ‘You’re telling me.’

  ‘Has he told you why he lied?’

  ‘I haven’t given him a chance. I’ve not spoken to him since we got here. I’ve left my phone off. I just can’t face it. I’m having such a lovely time, and he’ll only find a way to ruin it.’

  ‘Do you love him?’

  She spluttered into her glass. ‘Blimey, you get straight to the point, don’t you?’ She gave the question some thought. ‘I suppose I do, at least I think I do, but Beau’s quite a sensitive guy. I’m forever treading on eggshells and I always seem to be apologising when I’ve done nothing wrong.’

  ‘Why do you stay, then?’

  ‘You make it sound so simple. We need each other, that’s why. He’s not all bad, you know. He loves me so much that he just wants me all to himself. He’s so sweet sometimes. I’ve never had anybody care about me as much as he does.’

  Stefano nodded. ‘Sounds quite a catch.’

  She gave him a long look. ‘I’m not a fool, Stefano. I know he’s not perfect, but then neither am I.’

  ‘Forgive me, Candice. It really is none of my business.’

  Stefano walked her back to the hotel under the orange sky, only a sliver of the sun visible above the horizon.

  ‘I’ve had a lovely day, Stefano; really, it’s been special. I’m not that good with words, but it was damn near perfect. Thank you.’

  They stood in the gardens of the Villa Verde, the fading light affording them a moment of privacy. Stefano took hold of her hand and brought it to his mouth. He pressed his lips to her skin and closed his eyes. ‘The pleasure was all mine, Candice.’ He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. ‘I will see you tomorrow.’

  She watched him leave, his long stride carrying him effortlessly up the hill. She took a moment to savour the tranquil gardens, only the noisy cicadas intruding on the silence. A movement behind a nearby hedge made her stop and listen hard. She spotted the bushy red tail of the fox as it cast her a sneaky glance before disappearing into the undergrowth.

  As she followed the winding path to the stone steps leading up to reception, where two enormous urns planted with yuccas stood guard, she heard another noise, one that made her heart quicken. She had the uneasy feeling she was being watched. ‘Hello? Is there somebody there?’

  A figure crept out of the shadows. ‘Hello, Candice.’

  She instinctively took a step backwards from the familiar voice. ‘Beau . . . what are you . . . how did you get here?’

  ‘Same way as you did – on a plane.’ He held his arms out. ‘Got a hug for me then?’

  ‘Yeah, sure . . . sorry.’ She gave him a brief squeeze, recoiling from the slight smell of traveller’s sweat. ‘What’re you doing here, Beau?’ She stared at his porridge-like complexion. Compared to Stefano, he looked as though he spent his life underground.

  ‘You didn’t leave me any choice, did you, babe? You’ve ignored all my calls and texts and you didn’t even ring me back when I left a message with the hotel. What else was I supposed to do?’

  ‘Beau, you lied to me. Telling me your parents had been killed, it’s wicked is that.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what’s wicked, shall I?’ He prodded his finger into her chest. ‘You not giving me a chance to explain.’

  She batted his finger away. ‘Don’t do that, Beau. Look, I’ve got to go up and see Jenny. You’ll have to excuse me.’

  He caught hold of her hand as she turned to leave. ‘Wait, we need to talk. Come to our room when you’ve sorted Her Majesty out.’

  ‘Our room?’

  He looked perplexed. ‘Yes, I’ve got a double. No sense in you sharing with that old bat now that I’m here. Room 340. Don’t be long, I’ll be waiting for you.’

  She burst through the door as Jenny sat at the dressing table slathering her face in udder cream.

  ‘What on earth is the matter, Candice? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’

  ‘Believe me, a ghost would be preferable.’ She paced the room, her hands embedded in her hair as she tripped over her words in a desperate attempt to tell Jenny what had happened. ‘He’s . . . he’s here,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Beau . . . in this hotel . . . right now. He’s followed me here because I wouldn’t answer his calls. Can you believe it?’

  ‘Why the little . . . Where is he now?’

  ‘In his room . . . our room, as he calls it. He’s waiting for me.’

  ‘Are you going to go?’

  ‘What choice do I have?’

  ‘Erm . . . not to go?’

  ‘I can’t just leave it like this, can I?’

  ‘No, love, I suppose you can’t. Make him wait for a bit, though. Tell me all about your afternoon with Stefano.’

  ‘Oh God, Stefano!’ Candice exclaimed. ‘Beau’s bound to have seen us together. He was in the garden when we said goodbye. Shit . . . what am I going to do?’

  ‘Calm down, Candice. What do you think he saw exactly?’

  ‘Stefano held my hand and kissed me on the cheek.’

  ‘Is that all?’

  She gave Jenny a stern look. ‘This is Beau we’re talking about. Jeez, if he saw that, he’ll have a duck fit.’

  ‘What’s his room number?’

  ‘Um . . . 340. Why?’

  Jenny reached for the phone, halting Candice’s protest with a raised palm.

  He answered almost immediately. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Is that Beau Devine?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘It’s Jenny here, Candice’s friend. I understand you wish her to join you, but I’m afraid I need her here to attend to my bedtime routine. I’m really sorry to inconvenience you, but can it wait?’

  ‘That’s fine, tell her there’s no rush. I’ll be here when she’s ready. Goodnight, Jenny.’

  She replaced the receiver. ‘He’s full of surprises, that one.’ She turned to Candice. ‘Right, I’ve bought you some time. Think about how you’re going to play this – and remember, you’ve done nothing wrong.’

  63

  Beau opened the door dressed in only his boxer shorts, his damp hair clinging to his face. ‘I thought you’d changed your mind.’ He beckoned her over the threshold.

  ‘Sorry, it took longer than I thought sorting Jenny out.’

  ‘What happened to you?’

  ‘What do you mean?

  ‘Your hair. It’s all stringy and matted.’

  ‘I . . . I went swimming.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Glad you’ve been having a good time without me.’

  She sat down on the chair in front of the dressing table, studiously avoiding the king-size bed. ‘Don’t start, Beau. It’s you who’s got some explaining to do.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Erm . . . yes. Your parents were never killed in a plane crash.’

  ‘Oh, that,’ he said, lighting up a cigarette.

  ‘Yes, that.’ She pointed to the sign on the back of the door. ‘And this is a non-smoking room, by the way.’

  ‘I’m estranged from my parents. It’s really no big deal; you’re making far too much fuss about it.’

  ‘Why didn’t you just tell me that then?’

  He shrugged and blew out a cloud of smoke.

  ‘Do you want to know what I think?’

  ‘Not really but I suppose that won’t stop you telling me.’

  ‘I think you told me that story to get me feeling sorry for you, get me on your side, make out it was just the two of us against the world. Stop me asking any awkward questions about where they lived and that. It was easier to just write them out of your life.’

  He sat down on the bed. ‘You’re right, babe, honestly, that’s it. I didn’t want you asking questions or trying to get us back together or just your usual general interfering.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have done anything you didn’t want me to do, Beau.’

  He gave her a doubtful look. ‘Yeah, right.’ />
  ‘Why did you fall out with them?’

  ‘They didn’t approve of my lifestyle choices.’ He indicated the cigarette. ‘They didn’t even like me smoking, so when I progressed to weed and that, they started clamping down, restricting my movements and my money like I was a little kid. They tried to control me.’

  She stiffened at the word, but he seemed oblivious to the irony.

  ‘Anyway,’ he continued, ‘they didn’t care about me. They had their golden child to focus on.’

  ‘Jay?’

  ‘Yeah. I was a lost cause to them, but Jay, well, he was going places, that kid. He was all academic and that. I wanted to concentrate on my music, but to them that wasn’t a proper career. Imagine if Ed Sheeran’s parents had said something like that.’ He flicked some ash onto the carpet before rubbing it away with his bare foot. ‘There were just all these arguments every day. The same old thing time after time. Get a degree, get a career, make something of yourself. It was exhausting, so I left.’

  ‘I don’t know why you couldn’t have just told me that.’

  ‘You’re my future, Candice, they’re my past. They’re not important any more.’ He reached for her hand. ‘You’re the only one I care about now. You’re all I have left.’ He took a deep breath, his voice cracking. ‘When you wouldn’t answer my calls, I honestly thought I’d lost you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’

  She moved over to the bed and sat next to him, her arm around his shoulders. ‘I’m sorry, Beau. I was just too annoyed at you to call you back. I felt like our relationship was built on a lie. I wondered what else you hadn’t told me.’

  He stroked her cheek. ‘I’m sorry. Do you forgive me, babe?’

  ‘I suppose so . . .’

  He ran his hand through her hair, his nose wrinkling as his fingers found a knot. ‘I think you’d better take a shower. Your hair’s mingin’.’

  ‘It’s the salt water.’

  ‘I don’t like the idea of you swimming alone in the ocean. It’s dangerous. You could’ve been carried off by the surf or been caught in a rip tide or something.’

  ‘Oh no, it’s okay, I was with . . . um . . . with Jenny.’

  ‘The old bat went swimming?’

  ‘Well, no, obviously she didn’t go in the water, but she paddled at the edge and kept her eye on me. It was fine, stop worrying.’

  ‘So let me get this straight.’ He shuffled away from her. ‘You went swimming alone. There was nobody else in the water with you.’

  She pictured Stefano diving off the edge of the boat and slicing into the water, his body a perfect arc. ‘No, it was just me.’

  He regarded her carefully, his stare so intense she was forced to look away.

  ‘Okay, then.’ His words were slow and deliberate. ‘You can go and get your shower now.’ He bounced on the bed, testing the springs. ‘Then we can make the most of this. It’s costing enough.’

  ‘Where did you get the money for it?’ she asked, slipping her dress over her head.

  He stared at her. ‘Hellfire, Candice. Look at you.’

  She held the dress up to her chest, Beau’s scrutiny making her feel exposed.

  ‘That cossie,’ he continued. ‘I don’t remember seeing it before.’

  ‘This old thing.’ She laughed. ‘I’ve had it years.’

  He reached out and tugged at the bow of the bikini bottoms. ‘Why have I never seen it?’

  ‘I’m sure you have, Beau. You’ve just forgotten.’

  He stiffened his lips until they began to turn white. ‘I bet there was quite a crowd watching you cavorting in the sea. I can just imagine all those pervy gits staring at my virtually naked girlfriend.’

  ‘I wasn’t cavorting and there was nobody staring. Now, where did you get the money?’

  ‘What money?’

  ‘Lord above, Beau. The money for this hotel room, for your flight.’

  ‘Oh, that. I took it out of our savings.’

  ‘The beauty course fund, you mean?’

  He lay back on the bed, stretching out his limbs starfish-fashion. ‘You gave me no choice, babe. You wouldn’t answer my calls. You’ve only got yourself to blame.’

  She watched his skinny body writhing on the pristine sheets and closed her eyes around the image of a frog frantically scrambling to get out of a pan of boiling water. Jenny was right. It was all about knowing when to jump.

  Still clutching her dress to her, she stood over him, her voice trembling as she forced out the words. ‘It’s over, Beau.’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘Us.’

  He sat up then, propping himself on one elbow. ‘Us?’

  There was no turning back now. ‘Yes. I don’t want to be with you any more.’

  He jumped to his feet. ‘Don’t say that, babe. I’ll pay the money back.’

  ‘It’s not just the money, it’s . . . everything.’

  He frowned, genuine confusion creasing his features. ‘Everything? What are you on about now, you stupid cow?’

  She kept her voice level. ‘Don’t call me that, Beau.’

  He took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing. ‘You’ve got some nerve, Candice, I’ll give you that.’ He grabbed her arms and manhandled her onto the bed. ‘It’s you who should be begging for my forgiveness.’ He straddled her, pinning her arms above her head.

  ‘Get off me.’ She tried to kick her legs, but the weight of his body across her thighs made it impossible to move. ‘Beau,’ she panted. ‘Please, let me go.’

  His face was only inches from hers. ‘I saw you,’ he snarled.

  She stopped struggling. ‘Saw me when?’

  ‘Before. Outside with some greasy fuckin’ Italian. All over you he was, the smarmy git.’

  She turned her head to avoid his hot breath on her face. ‘It was nothing, Beau. He’s just our . . . um . . . driver. Jenny hired him to—’

  ‘I might’ve known that interfering bitch had something to do with it. She’s always had it in for me.’ He closed his hands around her throat, the pressure from his thumbs enough to make her gulp in a panicked breath.

  ‘Beau,’ she gasped, clawing at his hands. ‘Get off me, you’re hurting me.’

  ‘Why are you never satisfied, Candice? All I ever wanted was for you and me to be happy. Just the two of us, nobody else. Why isn’t that enough for you?’

  She writhed beneath him, panting. ‘Beau, I can’t breathe . . . please . . . I . . .’

  ‘Candice?’ Jenny’s muffled voice came through the door. ‘Candice, are you all right in there?’

  Beau clamped his hand over Candice’s mouth. ‘Not a fuckin’ word,’ he commanded, ‘or I will kill you. If you’re leaving me, I’ve nothing left to lose.’

  ‘Candice? Answer me. I’m not going away until I know you’re all right.’

  ‘Get rid of her. Tell her you’re fine . . . now.’ He removed his hand from her mouth. ‘Go on.’

  ‘I’m f . . . fine, Jenny. I’m just going to take a cool shower.’

  ‘Well you don’t sound fine, love. Are you absolutely sure you’re okay?’

  She gave a dramatic cough. ‘I’ve just got a frog in my throat, that’s all. I’m off to have that cool shower now. It’s boiling in here.’

  There was a short pause before Jenny spoke again. ‘I hear you, Candice.’

  Beau cocked his head, straining to hear Jenny shuffling off, her cane banging on the terracotta tiles as she retreated down the corridor.

  ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Where were we?’

  Candice sat up, pointedly rubbing her neck. ‘I think you were about to choke me.’

  ‘That was just a warning. You can’t leave me, or else I’ll . . . I’ll . . .’

  ‘Go on. You’ll what?’

  He forced her back down onto the pillow, pinning her arms above her head as he pressed his lips to hers, forcing his tongue inside her mouth. He spread her legs with his knee, briefly letting go of her hands only to claw at her bikini bottoms.


  ‘Stop it, Beau,’ she gasped. ‘I’ll scream.’

  He lay on top of her, the full weight of his body ensuring that she could barely draw breath, and his hands found her throat again, but she could only wheeze a faint protest. Her fingernails raked his back as she tried to bring her knee up to jab him between the legs. As the pressure on her throat increased, the room grew dark and pinpricks of light danced before her eyes. It was the terrible guttural gurgling sound that confused her, like a recently unblocked drain greedily swallowing the water that had backed up. She twisted her head, wondering where on earth it was coming from, before realising the sound was emanating from her own mouth.

  The click from the door was loud enough to stop Beau. He froze above her as the door was flung open by the duty manager, a frantic Jenny in his wake. ‘You,’ he commanded. ‘Get off her this moment.’

  Beau hesitated for a second, allowing Candice to scramble off the bed and into Jenny’s arms.

  ‘Oh Candice, love,’ she soothed as the girl sobbed into her shoulder. ‘Shush, Candice. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.’

  Beau sat on the edge of bed, the sheet draped around his midriff. ‘Look, I don’t know what you think this is exactly, but you’re mistaken, and I’m sure there must be rules about breaking into someone’s hotel room, invading their privacy. My girlfriend and I were just making love.’ He glanced at Candice. ‘Tell him, babe.’

  Candice looked away, shaking her head. ‘Please Jenny, just get me out of here.’

  64

  I gaze down at Candice’s sleeping form. She looks untroubled and restful, despite the puffy eyelids. We were up half the night just talking everything through. Beau was taken away by the polizia, and as far as I’m concerned, they can leave him to rot. Candice is not up to pressing charges, though, so there’s a good chance the weasel will be let go.

  There’s a faint tap on the door and I fumble to open it before the sound wakes her. I manage to take the tray from the room service guy and lay it on the dressing table, lifting the silver dome to inhale the smell of warm bread rolls and buttery croissants.

  Candice stirs, and I can see from her expression that for a fleeting moment she doesn’t know where she is.