The Longest Holiday (26 page)

‘A few times,’ he admits with a nod.

‘Bloody hell,’ I mutter, but I’m not really cross. ‘Did they encourage you to come here, too?’

He has the grace to look awkward. ‘Yeah.’

I tut. ‘I’m surprised my mum hasn’t rocked up. She likes a bit of drama.’

‘If you don’t come back with me, she probably will.’

‘Jesus Christ, you have to stop her.’

He smiles at me sadly. ‘Please come home with me.’

I shake my head. ‘I can’t.’

He stares out of the window with frustration.

‘What’s he like?’ I find myself asking.

‘Who?’ he replies.

‘The baby. Evan.’ His name almost sticks in my throat.

‘Oh, he’s …’ He hesitates. ‘He’s just a little lump at the moment. Doesn’t really do much.’ But the light in his eyes does not go unnoticed.

I clear my throat. ‘Do you have any photos?’

He casts me a wary glance.

‘It’s okay,’ I reassure him. ‘I want to see him.’

Tentatively he pulls out his mobile phone and searches through his photos, then hands it over. A tiny little baby stares up at the camera, at me. He has very blue eyes and fluffy dark hair. He’s very, very cute. Even I have to admit that. I flick right and another photo appears. This time he’s in someone’s arms – his mother’s? I wonder with a prickle of envy. But the picture is a close-up of him asleep, and as I flick through the next few, seeing Evan in the early days after his birth, when he was very tiny and very pink in an incubator, my heart goes out to him. There are no pictures of Tessa. I’m relieved to see that, and also a bit irritated. I’m glad Matthew chose not to take photos of her, but I’m curious to see again what she looks like. I saw her only the once – and that was in her tiny profile pic on Facebook. She changed the picture to a scan of her baby just days later. I checked.

I glance at Matthew’s face and see that light in his eyes again. He’s leaning close to me, looking over my shoulder at the photos.

‘You love him, don’t you?’ It’s more of a comment than a question, but he smiles sadly and nods.

This revelation doesn’t hurt me.

‘He’s cute,’ I find myself saying.

‘I really want you to see him,’ he blurts out.

I switch his phone off and shake my head. ‘I’m not ready for that.’

He visibly slumps and takes his phone from me.

‘You leave on Tuesday, right?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Come on, then,’ I try to sound bright, ‘how do you want to spend your last couple of days?’

We go shopping and wander the streets, checking out the Southern most Point and arranging to go on a sunset cruise. Many of the people on the boat are middle-aged men and women, but even more are middle-aged obviously gay men. We raise a glass to each other and giggle.

When Matthew walks me home, I’m taken aback to see Leo’s car parked outside the gates. I halt in my footsteps and turn swiftly to him.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ I say quickly.

‘Okay. Goodnight.’ He gives me a wary look.

I peck him on his cheek and hurry through the gate, not looking over my shoulder. The seats are empty. I run inside the house, my pulse racing. I can hear laughter and the murmur of voices coming from the dining room. I burst into the room and everyone starts, seeing me there. Leo is sitting at the table, surrounded by his friends. My friends? Not quite. He stares at me and I’m unable to read his expression.

‘You’re back,’ I say breathlessly.

‘It would seem so,’ he replies darkly, no trace of a smile on his lips.

Everyone at the table averts their gaze. This is awkward, even for someone as brazen as Carmen.

‘Talk to you in a bit.’ I back out of the room, feeling sick.

I wait for him upstairs for what feels like a long time, but eventually he knocks at the door.

‘Come in,’ I say eagerly.

He pushes the door open and stands in the doorway, giving me a hard stare.

‘Come in,’ I say again, more hesitantly, sitting up on the bed.

He reluctantly steps further into the room and closes the door behind him.

‘Are you okay? How was Miami?’

He irritably runs his hands through his hair. I flinch at the look on his face.

‘Leo?’ I say tentatively. ‘I missed you,’ I add in a small voice, holding my hand out to him, willing him to come and sit on the bed with me.

‘I think it’s best if we stay away from each other while your husband is here.’

He practically spits these words out and it hurts so much to hear him say them with such venom.

‘Leo!’ I gasp, but he glares at me. ‘He’s leaving on Tuesday,’ I say quickly. ‘I’m not going with—’

‘Just stop,’ he warns, and there’s a look of disdain on his face as he turns around and walks out.

I’m too stunned to cry.

The next morning Leo is up and out of the house before I have a chance to talk to him. I spent most of the night awake, wondering what the others have told him. What can they say, other than the fact that I’ve hardly been here at all? They could tell him I’ve slept here every night, though. Did they tell him that? I have a sick feeling that maybe they didn’t think this was entirely necessary.

I’m on another planet all day. I can barely concentrate, too consumed with seeing Leo again that night and trying to put it right. Matthew drives us to the beach, where we lie on the sand and I pretend to be asleep so I don’t have to speak. It’s his last night and he asks me to go out to dinner with him. I’m reluctant. I just want to be with Leo, but eventually I agree. I go to the house to get ready first – and to wait for Leo.

Jorge comes home from work and gives me a wary look. I’m sitting on the living-room sofa, staring at the wall. I don’t even have the patience to turn on the telly.

‘Where’s Leo?’ I ask him hopefully.

‘He’s gone out,’ he replies edgily, making to leave the room.

‘Jorge, please!’ I call after him. ‘What have you said to him?’

‘I haven’t said anything,’ he responds.

‘Then what has Carmen said? He acted last night like he hated me!’

He regards me with sympathy. ‘Don’t worry about Leo. Carmen hasn’t told him anything much, only that we haven’t seen you a lot. Which we haven’t.’

‘I know,’ I say helplessly. ‘But not because of anything sinister.’

‘No, nothing as sinister as the fact that your husband is staying a few hundred metres away,’ he says in a gently sarcastic tone. ‘Look, Carmen is only worried about Leo.’

‘I know.’

‘She wants the best for him. She’s not sure you’re it.’

I cast my eyes downwards. ‘I know.’

‘What do you think?’ he asks me softly and my eyes fly up to look at him.

‘I … I really care about him,’ I say with difficulty.

He regards me for a moment. ‘Tell him that.’

I nod. ‘I will. When will he be home?’

‘I don’t know.’ He shakes his head. ‘I’ll try to find him.’

‘Okay. I’m going out for dinner with …’ I cock my head to one side. ‘It’s his last night. I need to say goodbye.’

‘See you later, then.’ He turns and walks out.

‘Jorge!’ He spins around. ‘Thanks.’

He smiles and leaves and I breathe a sigh of relief.

‘You know it’s your charity ball this weekend?’ Matthew says over dessert.

‘Of course,’ I reply. ‘Becky has it all under control.’

‘I’m sure she does, but …’

‘What?’

‘Don’t you think you should be there?’ His tone is stern.

‘Maybe.’ I shrug defensively. ‘But I’m not going to be, am I?’

‘Shouldn’t you be the one giving the speech? Do you really think she can handle it?’

‘She’ll be fine.’ I try to brush him off, but I’m not as confident as I sound. She’s competent, but she hasn’t done many speeches before, and this ball is the biggie – of all the events in our calendar, this is the one that raises the most money year-on-year in Will’s name.

‘It’s not too late to change your mind,’ he continues.

‘I’m not coming home.’

‘We could go together,’ he tries again.

‘I’m not coming home.’ My response is firm.

‘Yet,’ he adds with a frown.

‘Yet,’ I agree reluctantly. ‘Look, I’m really tired. Do you mind if we call it a night?’

He looks disappointed.‘I thought you’d come back to mine for a bit?’ He checks his watch, the watch I bought him as a wedding present. He’s also still wearing his wedding ring. ‘It’s only nine thirty.’

I think for a moment. Well, I doubt Leo will be home this early, anyway. I guess I could always swing by there to check.

‘What are you thinking?’ Matthew asks. ‘You’ve been somewhere else all day.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I reply guiltily.

‘Is he back?’

‘Who?’

‘Leo,’ he says with impatience.

‘Oh, yes, he returned last night.’

He won’t meet my eyes. He looks hurt and I despise myself for being the cause of that.

‘Can we have the bill?’ he asks the waitress.

We walk back to his hotel in silence.

‘Come in for a drink?’ he asks quietly.

‘Look, I’ll see you in the morning,’ I say, trying to reassure him, but I can see that I’m failing. I take a deep breath and change my mind. ‘Okay, then.’

He smiles slightly as I follow him through the reception area, waving at Mike as we go.

‘Let’s sit out here,’ he suggests, indicating the deserted hammock area.

‘Okay.’

He goes inside to prepare our drinks, returning to the hammocks with two glasses of chilled white wine.

‘When did you get this?’ I ask.

‘Picked it up from the offie earlier, just in case I could tempt you back,’ he says with a cheeky grin.

‘Yeah, well, don’t go getting any ideas,’ I warn.

‘As if I would,’ he replies.

I clamber up onto a hammock and wobble every which way until I’m settled enough for him to pass me my glass.

Matthew climbs into his hammock more deftly and gives me a boyish smile as he raises his glass.

‘Cheers.’

‘Cheers.’

‘Here’s to us,’ he says.

I take a sip, but don’t second that sentiment.

‘When are you seeing Evan next?’ I ask.

‘Er, this weekend,’ he tells me, nervously.

I feel a pang of pity. ‘You don’t have to worry about telling me these things,’ I say. ‘It’s okay. He’s your son. You’re going to see him.’

I think the alcohol is making me more reasonable. It usually has the opposite effect.

‘Thanks,’ he says quietly.

‘So what are you doing?’ I ask casually.

‘I’m just going over to Tessa’s house. She lives with her dad,’ he adds.

‘Oh, right.’ I sound surprised. ‘Isn’t she, like, twenty-four or something?’

‘Yeah. Her mother died a few years ago, so she lives with her dad to take care of him, but I think she’ll get her own place soon.’

Unease settles over me. I’m not ready to discuss this person yet. I don’t even know her. It kills me that he does, that she’s the mother of his child.

‘Are you alright?’ he asks worriedly.

‘Not really,’ I admit. He makes to sit up, but I raise my hand. ‘Stay there. Please,’ I add.

He obliges, but looks awkward.

‘Does she still fancy you, do you think?’ I ask.

‘No.’ He frowns and shakes his head quickly, but I don’t think he can be so sure. ‘And there’s no way … No way.’

‘What if you and I get divorced?’

The look on his face: it’s like I’ve slaughtered his childhood kitten. ‘Don’t say that,’ he begs in what is barely more than a whisper.

‘What if we did?’ I press. ‘Would you and she …’

‘No. Never. It’s not like that. It was only that one night,’ he says vehemently. ‘I didn’t know what I was doing. I was off my face—’

‘I know,’ I interrupt. I’ve heard it all before.

‘I will never, ever do that to you again.’

‘I should hope not,’ I reply irately, my gaze finding its way to the sundeck. I wonder if Leo is back yet. ‘Look, I’m going to go home,’ I say with a sigh.

‘Home?’ He tuts, but doesn’t say more.

‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ I say firmly.

‘I’m checking out at nine,’ he tells me.

‘I’ll come to you at eight thirty,’ I promise, climbing down from the hammock. He does the same. I hand over my glass. ‘Thanks,’ I say.

He throws the remainder of my wine onto some nearby foliage, and I turn to walk away.

‘Laura …’ he calls. I look over my shoulder. ‘I love you.’

I smile sadly and walk back through the hotel grounds.

I can hear Latin music coming out of the stereo and I hug myself as I pass the yard, feeling in my heart that Leo will be there. I hurriedly push through the gate, to the sound of Max barking. He runs over to me and I bend down to pat him, then freeze, because there in the armchair is Leo, and on the sofa is Jorge, sitting between two very gorgeous girls, one of whom, the brunette closest to Leo, is smoking a cigar and grinning as though I’ve entered in the middle of a joke. I straighten up, but my feet are stuck to the ground.

‘Laura!’ Jorge calls jovially. Leo regards me through the smoke trailing from the cigar in his fingers, but he doesn’t say anything. ‘Come and have a drink!’ Jorge shouts.

‘This is good shit,’ the girl next to Leo says with a giggle. ‘Where did you get these?’

I shake my head and walk past the sofa, anger filling every part of me.

‘What’s up with her?’ I hear the redhead on the other side of Jorge say in quite a bitchy tone. I run up the stairs and go into my bedroom, shutting the door behind me.

‘Bastard!’ I screech to myself, and if there were a brick anywhere in the vicinity I’m quite certain that I would hurl it out of the window at their little gathering.

I can still hear the sound of Latin music coming from the garden. I hear the tinkle of a girl’s laugh and I bite my lip. The door flies open and Leo storms in. I turn my fury onto him.

‘You arsehole!’ I run at him and thump his chest.

Shocked, he grabs my wrists and manhandles me into the room, kicking the door shut with his foot behind him. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ he demands to know.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ I scream back at him as hot tears spill down my cheeks.

‘I’m not doing anything!’ he shouts, stunned, holding me at arm’s length.

‘That girl …’ I gesticulate at the window.