The Sunshine And Biscotti Club (10 page)

Because Flo can do it.

Now, as they all strolled off together towards the private beach for skinny-dipping, it was only as Jessica watched them disappear into the olive grove that the badgering thought popped into her mind, making her suddenly break into a little trot to catch up. Flo would do it.

Libby knew they had far too much to do to take a break but everyone had been so good, worked so hard—even Dex who’d come up from the terrace to help shift the old carpets downstairs—that when they’d suggested a quick beer down at the boathouse bar to cool off she’d nodded and sent them on their way.

‘You coming?’ Miles had asked from the doorway.

‘Yeah, I’ll be there in a bit. I have some blog stuff to do.’

He’d nodded and jogged away down the stairs.

Alone in the shabby, carpet-less bedroom, Libby had got her laptop out to check her blog and YouTube channel, to answer questions on the liquorice biscotti post which had been one of her most successful to date, and that was when she’d seen the massive screed written by the person who’d initially sent her the link about Jake’s infidelity, which she had subsequently deleted from her comments. This time, though, they
were focusing on Libby, asking who she thought she was—trying to hide details of her marriage from the fans who’d supported her over the years. Making comments about her face, her figure, her manner, and deciding, in the end, that it wasn’t a surprise she couldn’t keep her husband. Other people had started commenting on the comment—some good, some bad, some plain horrible.

Libby had stared at the screen with her hand over her mouth for what felt like minutes but could only have been a few seconds, because suddenly Dex was standing behind her, having gone to grab his sunglasses from his room, saying, ‘What the hell is that?’

‘Nothing.’

He bent down to read it all over her shoulder and when she tried to shut the laptop he swiped it from her. ‘Libby, this is abuse.’

‘It’s not abuse. It goes with the territory.’

‘You’ve had this before?’ he asked, holding her laptop in one hand and looking across at her.

‘No.’

‘Well, it doesn’t go with the territory then.’ He scrolled through and checked the other comments. ‘You want me to shut it down?’

‘The website? No!’ Libby pushed herself up off the bed and tried to take the laptop back but he wouldn’t let her.

‘Not the website, the comments. I’ll disable them now.’ He went over to the dresser in the corner and took a seat, checking details on her computer she didn’t even know existed. ‘I’ll do the blog and the YouTube channel.’

‘No, Dex, don’t, it feels like running away.’

‘Lib. It’s not running away, it’s giving yourself a bit of a break. Shit’s gone down. You’re allowed a break, you know. And it doesn’t have to be forever.’

She covered her face with her hands and exhaled.

‘You don’t have to carry on like some superwoman,’ he added, tapping away, his back to her.

She pinched the bridge of her nose.

Dex glanced over his shoulder. ‘Are you going to cry?’ he asked.

She shook her head. ‘No.’

He nodded. ‘You want me to do this?’

She thought how the blog was the one place that had stayed normal throughout all this. How, whatever was going on outside, she could dive in there and be in complete control. The idea of more and more insidious comments seeping into her little haven made her feel like it might capsize the already rocking boat. ‘OK. Turn the comments off,’ she said, feeling immediately as though she was building herself a bubble, one that she could hide in for the time being, but, at some point soon, it would hit the floor and burst into thin air.

‘What’s going on?’ Miles was in the doorway. ‘Dex, you coming?’

Dex turned to look at Libby and she gave him big wide eyes back to make sure he didn’t say anything about this. ‘Yes, he’s coming, he was just sorting something quickly for me. Go,’ she said with a big smile at Miles.

Dex got up slowly, looking like he was trying to come up with some reason to force her to come with them.

‘And you’re sure you’re not coming?’ said Miles.

‘Yeah.’ She laughed, looking round at the newly exposed dirty wooden floors. ‘I have loads to do.’

Dex looked anxious.

‘Honestly, go!’ she said, getting up and shooing them out of the door.

She hadn’t moved from her spot back on the bed when Giulia appeared ten minutes later with a stack of post, mainly bills.

‘You need to pay for this, it’s red,’ she said, thrusting the electricity bill in Libby’s direction.

‘OK.’ Libby nodded.

‘And this, it’s red also.’

Libby took the gas bill.

‘And this one is quote for the roof.’

‘OK.’ Libby took the letter.

‘And this is the hotel inspector.’

‘What inspector?’ Libby frowned.

‘From the very good website. He comes every year. But every year it is a no.’ Giulia shrugged. ‘Your aunt, she was always very upset.’

‘Oh.’ Libby looked down at the envelope with Hidden Gems stamped on the front.

‘He could be very important for the business,’ Giulia said, tapping the letter in Libby’s hand. ‘And the shower in room five leaks through the ceiling this morning.’

‘Oh god!’ Libby put her hands on her head, the cellophane windows of the letters crunching against her hair.

‘You want I can call Dino?’ Giulia asked, hands on her hips.

Libby looked puzzled. Why would she call their chef? ‘Does Dino know a plumber?’

‘Dino is plumber, too.’

‘Fine.’ Libby held up her hands. ‘Call Dino. Do whatever you can to fix it,’ she said, standing up and following Giulia down the stairs, but, as Giulia turned in the direction of the lobby, Libby dipped out the back door and into the hot, fresh air, tucking the bills into a cubbyhole on her way out.

*

‘They went that way.’ One of Bruno’s achingly cool waiters nodded in the direction of the olive grove when
he saw Libby looking confused as she scanned the bar for her friends.

‘Oh right, thanks,’ she said, unsure as she walked away about both why they would be in the olive grove and why there had been a sly little smile on the waiter’s face.

The olive grove was dense and cool. The funnel webs of spiders crisscrossed every pitted groove in the bark of the trees; a sea of black nets carpeted the ground either side of the path to catch the olives but seemingly everything else as well—the leaves, broken twigs, ice cream wrappers, and a couple of old Coke cans. Every step she took hushed the nearest cicadas, like chasing the gold at the end of a rainbow, always a step away. She got to a point in the path that always reminded her of her aunt. One direction led towards a goat farm on the hill but the other wound down to a deserted section of lake that was her aunt’s favourite for swimming, just the two of them. Only the locals knew about it because to the casual observer it seemed there was no direct access to the water, except through a rather perilous-looking sliver of rock fall that was littered with debris and big broken tree branches. It was a precarious scrabble down but worth it for the isolated beach where the water lapped gently against the pebbles and the ducks waddled along the shore. There she would lie flat in the water for hours, floating as she stared up at the vast expanse of blue,
and her aunt would tell her stories of her debauched trips across Europe in search of antiques and gambling haunts.

She hadn’t been back there since they’d moved into the hotel. Something had stopped her taking Jake; perhaps the idea that he’d turn his nose up at the deserted little inlet. Jake liked the wide stretch of white pebbles on the beach directly in front of the hotel where there was always someone to chat to, usually female, and he didn’t see the point in trekking to find somewhere different, especially if it was Libby leading the way.

Concluding that Bruno would probably not have led them to a goat farm, Libby stepped off the path and weaved her way through the undergrowth in the direction of the fallen rocks and the beach.

She thought about her aunt managing the hotel alone. The haphazard style, the leaks, the much needed renovations, but still the guests returned year on year, unable to get enough of the food and the eclectic hospitality.

As Libby squeezed her way through the gap between the rocks she remembered a conversation with her aunt when she’d ask what her father was like and she’d said: ‘Libby, the thing with me and your dad was that we were so very alike in every possible way but in every possible way we were different. Let me tell you,’ she’d said. ‘You can’t trust us. We’re selfish.
We’re lousy with money. We’re very unkind when we’re angry. But the difference is, my dear girl, the difference is that I had no one to look after apart from myself and this pile of bricks. That’s the difference.’ She’d paused, taken a swig of her gin, and added, ‘And I can hold my drink.’

When her dad had died they’d had to prise a bottle of Jack Daniel’s out of his hand after rigor mortis set in—that was the myth Libby’d grown up hearing.

As her only blood relation, Libby was adored by her aunt Silvia and, while Libby had loved her back, it was only now, when she too was shouldering the hotel alone, that she wished she had given her more credit, wished she had said congratulations just once, especially as it had been her aunt’s skill and praise that had forged Libby’s own career path. It was the tutorage—sharp but fair—that she had given Libby as she’d stood next to her in the kitchen, helping create the famous Bolognese or the exquisitely simple truffle oil pasta that brought people from miles around, that had made Libby believe she had a talent worth nurturing. She had said thank you to her aunt, but she hadn’t said congratulations, only rolled her eyes at the lack of order.

She stopped thinking about her aunt when she skidded down the short sheer drop, took the final few metres of shingly path, and was met with the sight of Bruno’s impressively tanned bottom as he ran down the
sand and dived into the water with a splash. Dex was already out swimming, beckoning for the others to get a move on. Eve was hurriedly changing, clutching her clothes close, and, when she was bare, she ran with Jimmy—almost but not quite holding hands—through the shallows and out to join the others. Miles was undressing with an amused confidence, yanking his polo shirt off to reveal an unexpectedly impressive set of sinewy abs.

‘Libby!’ Dex shouted from the water. ‘Take all your clothes off, we’re skinny-dipping.’

Libby cringed, regretting what she’d walked into. She was and never had been a naked in public person. She didn’t even sleep naked. Jake did.

She reached the shore in exact step with Miles as he ambled towards the water’s edge, bare as a button. ‘All right, Libby?’

Libby swallowed. ‘Fine, thank you.’

He chuckled. ‘See you in there,’ he said, and then broke into a jog, flinging himself into the crystal clear water with a splash.

Libby turned to see Jessica sitting on a rock. In the sweltering heat she suddenly looked completely overdressed in her shorts and vest.

‘Are you not swimming?’ Libby asked.

Jessica made a face. ‘I am,’ she said with an unconvincing nod. ‘I’m just not.’

Libby smiled and went and sat next to her. ‘You don’t have to. I’m not taking my clothes off.’

Jessica sighed. ‘I do have to, though. I do because I know otherwise I’ll regret it.’

‘Really?’ Libby frowned. ‘It’s only swimming.’

‘Yeah, but it’s being in the moment, isn’t it? It’s existing. Look at Eve, she’s in there.’

‘I think at the moment Eve is just doing anything Jimmy’s doing.’ She stared out at Eve cavorting in the water, splashing around and yelping when she got a dunking.

‘What’s she playing at?’ Jessica said, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun.

‘I think she’s just putting off thinking about what’s going on at home.’

Jessica turned to look at Libby. ‘Is that what you’re doing? Always working rather than hanging out with us? I’ve hardly seen you since we got here.’

‘No,’ Libby said, laughing, then she sucked in her top lip and stared out at the group splashing about in the water. ‘Maybe,’ she said after a second or two.

‘Are you angry with him?’ Jessica asked.

‘Who?’

‘Jake!’

‘Oh right, yeah. Erm.’ Most people asked if she was upset, if she’d be OK, they said that he’d come back and it would all get back to normal. The presumption was that he’d just momentarily lost his way. That was
the thing about Jake; he was so charming that he’d been forgiven everything all his life.

‘I’m angry for what he’s made of me. You know? I feel ashamed that I wasn’t enough, which I know is stupid and unfeminist, but it’s so embarrassing.’

Jessica laughed, soft and comprehending.

‘Come on, you two!’ Dex shouted from the water. ‘Get in here!’

‘Do you think anything is going to happen between Eve and Jimmy?’ Jessica asked, looking towards where they were racing each other to one of the buoys further out in the lake.

Libby shrugged. ‘I hope not.’

Jessica picked up a fallen twig and snapped it a couple of times, then, throwing the pieces onto the sand, she said, ‘You can do it without him, you know that, don’t you? You don’t
have
to be in a relationship.’

Libby had been in a relationship since she was fourteen years old. The longest she’d gone without a boyfriend was two weeks when she’d been dumped just before her A-levels and was revising too hard to get another one. Even when she’d come to the hotel for her summers she would find herself a cool young local or a lazy, fun-loving tourist. Someone, anyone, just so she wasn’t on her own.

‘I hate being single,’ she said to Jessica.

‘I know you do. But I promise, it’s not that bad. I’m single. Dex is single. We’re OK.’

‘Dex isn’t single. Dex just doesn’t settle down. There’s always someone on the go.’

Jessica shrugged. ‘Not so much nowadays, you know. I’d count him as single.’

‘Well, I hate it. It makes me feel lopsided.’

Jessica snorted. ‘That’s ridiculous.’

‘I know,’ Libby said, looking out at the water. ‘I suppose I’ve never said it out loud before.’ But it was true. Without Jake by her side it felt like there was a hole she was dragging along next to her. Her brain had settled comfortably into being a two. She made decisions as a two. She laughed as a two. She couldn’t work out what pace to eat at now she was on her own. She didn’t know what was funny on the TV.