A Twist of Fate (17 page)

‘Look at the size of that thing,’ Thea said, pointing to the cruise ship on the horizon, its lights twinkling against the black sky. It was probably heading for Naples, just up the
coast.

‘An abomination, if you ask me,’ Finn said, turning to look at where she was pointing. ‘I don’t see why they have to let the plebs ruin this place.’

Thea felt herself bristle. She didn’t like Finn’s attitude. He had red curly hair and small beady blue eyes, which somehow always seemed to be making a judgement on other people. But
Tom seemed committed to him, despite his caustic personality. According to Bridget, they’d been up Kilimanjaro on one of their expeditions together – a trip that had, according to Tom,
bonded them for life.

‘Surely they have just as much right to be here as us?’ Thea said.

‘That’s a damned noble thing of you to say, Thea,’ Finn said nastily. ‘When your father is one of the richest men in America.’

‘What do you know about my father?’ she asked.

‘Enough to know that you’ll walk into any job you want. Not that a girl like you
will
ever work. A place at such a good English university seems a bit wasted on an American
like you.’

‘I should shut up, if I were you, Finn,’ Tom warned, glancing between Finn and Thea. ‘You don’t want the company lawyers after you.’

He changed the subject, but the evening was soured. And it only took a further turn for the worse when Finn and Bridget ordered mussels for dinner and afterwards both felt queasy. By the time
Tom and Thea had driven them back to the hotel, the pair of them were green.

Thea helped Bridget into her room, and after she was sick for what had to be the last time, Thea helped her take off her Doc Martens and get into bed.

‘Oh, you poor thing,’ Thea said, wiping her glistening forehead with a damp flannel. ‘What a dreadful way to end the day. Go to sleep.’

‘Will you be OK?’ Bridget asked.

Thea smiled. ‘Of course I will. It’s late. I’ll probably go to bed myself,’ she assured her friend, although she knew that she needed to clear her head first.

‘Well, do. I don’t want you to be alone with Tom.’ Bridget lay back on the pillow, her head glistening with sweat.

‘Tom? Why ever not?’ Thea asked, but her voice sounded shrill.

‘Because . . . ’ Bridget said, ‘you promised.’

‘Tom? Me and Tom?’ Thea said. ‘Don’t be crazy, Bridge. You’re delirious.’

But out on the terrace, with its ropes of soft lights, the warm breeze coming in from the bay and the sound of the silver waves breaking on the beach far below, Thea forgot her
resolve. Tom was sitting alone by the bar, reading the book she’d lent him –
The Magus
by John Fowles. Thea felt her heart racing as she quickly tried to slip past him down the
steps through the garden to the beach, but he looked up and caught her eye.

‘How is she?’ he called over to Thea.

She walked over to the bar towards him. ‘Weak. How’s Finn?’

‘Finn?’ Tom asked, staring at Thea, as if he’d forgotten the conversation already. ‘Oh, he’ll be fine.’

Thea bit her lip, breaking his gaze. Something about his stare was so intimate that it was making her blush.

‘After all that vomit, I just wanted some air,’ she said, putting her arm out in the direction of the gardens. ‘I suppose I should turn in really.’

Tom pulled another seat towards his. He patted it. ‘Stay and have a drink with me.’

Thea looked at the seat and at Tom’s expectant face. Why shouldn’t she have a drink? What was so wrong in that? She tried to dismiss Bridget’s face, which loomed large in her
mind.

Because you promised . . .

And yet his family were paying for her holiday, Thea reminded herself. It wasn’t as if he had any idea how she felt. Besides, to leave now would be so rude. Tom ordered her a glass of
white wine and Thea sat down. In the distance she could hear music from the bar inside, the INXS song ‘Need You Tonight’, which she knew Tom liked just as much as she did.

‘Weird evening,’ she said, trying not to sound as nervous as she felt.

‘It’s better now,’ Tom said. He raised his glass to clink with hers. Thea took a sip of her wine and laughed nervously.

‘So, I’m sorry about Finn earlier. Being rude. I guess he must be jealous. He has issues about being the only kid from his group of friends at school not to make it to
Oxbridge.’

‘It’s OK,’ Thea said.

‘You don’t talk about your family much.’

‘There’s not much to say. My father is Griffin Maddox. He barely notices me. My family isn’t like yours, Tom. You have no idea how lucky you are. Your mom is . . . well,
she’s like I think my mom might have been, if she was still alive.’

‘She was a good mother?’ Tom asked.

Thea looked at him. She shouldn’t be talking about this stuff with Tom. But somehow he seemed so easy to talk to.

Thea sighed. ‘Of course she was. When she was alive. From what I remember, at least. But now . . . ?’ She paused, looking at the stem of her glass.

‘Now?’ Tom prompted.

‘She feels like a mystery.’

‘What do you mean? Tell me about her. What do you remember about her?’

‘She always said I was her gift from God,’ Thea said. ‘I’ve never told anyone that before.’ She smiled at Tom, her stomach fluttering when she saw that he was
staring right at her. ‘She always seemed so solid. Like . . . I always thought she was the love of my father’s life.’

‘And now you’re not sure?’

Thea shrugged. ‘It just seems so odd that my father was so quick to marry her complete opposite. Then there was a comment that your mum made about Johnny once.’

‘Who’s Johnny?’

Thea explained. And as she told him all about Johnny and Little Elms, she remembered how idyllic her childhood had been, and how painful it was that it had gone forever. Before she could stop
herself, she found herself talking about Michael too.

‘It sounds like you really cared about him,’ Tom said, ‘loved him even . . .’

‘No,’ she said quickly, embarrassed. ‘Not loved. I was much too young. Nothing but a kid.’

But had what she felt for Michael been love? she wondered now. And not just the kind of love you might feel for a friend or an almost-brother, but something more consuming and much more adult
than that?

‘I took it all for granted, and then it all got ripped away,’ she told Tom, feeling more emotional than she meant to.

‘So you want to track down this Johnny fella then?’ Tom asked.

‘I want to know what happened. You know . . . before. When he and Mom were young. I think there’s a story there I need to find out.’

‘Old family skeletons really don’t interest me. I bet Mum has loads of gossip stacked up, but I’d rather not know,’ Tom said.

Thea laughed at the ridiculousness of the idea. ‘Your parents?’ she said.

‘Don’t be so sure. Everyone has dark secrets.’

‘Oh, really?’ Thea said, ‘Even you?’

He seemed to think about this for a moment, a twinkle of amusement or – Thea wondered – uncertainty in his eyes.

‘Maybe. Just the one.’

‘Oh?’ she asked, smiling. ‘And what’s that?’

He sighed, looked down at his fingers holding the base of his glass. Thea thought how handsome he was, his face lit in profile, his dark hair falling carelessly into his eyes.

‘I’m crazily in love with someone I shouldn’t be in love with,’ he said.

He sighed, leant forward and put his hands over hers. This time she didn’t move away. She could feel herself being dragged. Dragged somewhere she knew she shouldn’t go, but it was
like being dragged over velvet.

‘Don’t you feel it too?’ he whispered, his eyes locking with Thea’s. ‘This thing between us?’

‘Tom. Don’t . . . I can’t,’ she said, feeling like a fool.

‘Can’t what?’

‘Do this . . . with you,’ she said, but as she stared into his eyes, her words withered on her lips. She wished she had the courage to tell him about Brett. To tell him the truth
about herself and how inexperienced she was, as a result of his abuse. How naive, when it came to anything sexual. How terrified the thought of being intimate with anyone made her.

She felt herself trembling. Was this real? Or had she given Tom the wrong signals. Could it really be true that he wanted her? What if he rejected her?

‘You mean, you don’t want to?’ he asked quietly, his eyes boring into hers. ‘Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you every second of this
week.’

But she couldn’t answer. She felt the truth radiating out of her, and she was powerless to stop it.

‘But what about Bridget?’

‘What about her?’

‘I . . . I promised her, I wouldn’t. I mean . . . ’ she fizzled out. Her promise to Bridget suddenly seemed so childish.

‘How we feel is our business, not hers.’

Thea tried to find an answer, a way to protest, but then Tom stood up. Without even losing eye contact with her for a second, he left some notes on the bar from the inside of his jacket and took
her hand.

‘Don’t say anything,’ he said as they walked inside the hotel and across the marble lobby. ‘And don’t stop.’

She felt her heart pounding as he led her up the stairs, taking the keys out of his pocket. They stopped outside a door with a brass number on it. Again Brett flashed into her mind, the
revulsion and fear mixing now with excitement about this new experience of being here with Tom. Well, she would do it, she decided, daring herself to be bold. She would not let Brett ruin this. And
as Tom held out his hand to her, she took it, stepping over the threshold and into the moonlit room beyond.

August 1989

It was just after dawn when Romy stepped down the gangplank of
Spirit of the Seas
. She smiled, patting the leather bag she’d bought in Venice, with her passport
inside. She had a whole twelve hours until her shift started again.

They were only here in Naples for a day and tonight they’d leave Italy for Sardinia. But she couldn’t leave knowing that she’d been so close and hadn’t tried to find the
place she’d always dreamt about. Amalfi was only five miles down the coast and she planned to be there and back by this evening.

Xavier was right when he’d told her that spending too long on board a ship could warp your perspective of the world. It was only now, acting on her own whim, stepping alone onto dry land,
that she realized just how bad her cabin fever had become in these last few months.

She still missed Xavier. He’d been the best thing about her time on the
Norway
, by far. She’d tried to keep up her relationship with him, after that first night together, but
it had been too hard. He was busy in New York, and the
Norway
had whisked Romy away and, after a few letters, she’d stopped writing, resigning herself to the idea that their one-night
stand was as much as there was ever going to be between them.

But she had taken his advice and had applied to work on the
Spirit of the Seas
, which had taken over from
Norway
as the biggest cruise ship in the world. At the time, it had felt
daring and brave to make such a huge career change, yet two years on, life on board was pretty much the same as it had been aboard
Norway
and had lost its allure. She felt claustrophobic and
hemmed in.

Yet again she was the only female working as a croupier on the floor. She’d never before minded being one of the guys, but unlike Christian and the others that she used to play cards with
in London, this lot were a load of sexist pigs. Especially Marco, the boss, who always blamed his mistakes on Romy.

Romy didn’t want a boss. She wanted to work for herself. She was fed up with constantly being put in her place. She wanted to live the kind of life that the guests on board had. She wanted
to wear gorgeous clothes and gorgeous shoes. She wanted to be
free
.

Truly free. She wanted freedom from being a wage-slave. Freedom not just to go where she chose, but to be as she chose when she got there. Thoughts of freedom and independence had cemented as
one inside her mind.

Which is why she’d been saving every cent she made and putting aside every tip so that she’d have enough to go and study. The only problem was, she had no idea where she wanted to
live. She was tempted to go back to London, but life aboard the
Spirit
was so relentless, it was hard to make any decisions. And at least she was safe on board. Lemcke, Ulrich and his dogs
still haunted her dreams, and she still slept with a penknife under her pillow.

Yes, you could travel all around the world, she thought, but you could never escape from what was inside your own mind. But today she was damn well going to try and find some peace.

She turned and looked up at the vast ship, thinking as she always did that it was as ridiculous as a fancy wedding cake. Then, with a resolute skip in her step and hugging her soft
peppermint-green cardigan around her shoulders in the chill dawn air, she set off towards the town.

She followed the fruit-haulers to a low building along the port. Inside, the market was in full swing. Romy drank it all in, revelling in the vibrant colours, fingering the fat
grapes that dripped from the stalls and the sweet yellow melons piled high. Above it all was the smell of rough cigarette smoke and the shouting of the men, as the traders bartered with the
fishermen, and fork-lift trucks whined as they shunted crates of produce at breakneck speed. A black pig on a leash ran by, dragging a man in boots, while another man walked past shouldering two
cured ham legs.

No wonder the pig was running, she thought.

She stopped to buy a peach, but when she smiled, the man gave it to her for free. ‘Where are you going, lady?’ he shouted above the din.

Romy, delighting at understanding the basic phrase and seeing the opportunity to try out a few of her own stock phrases that she’d learnt, explained that she needed to get to Amalfi. She
asked him directions to the bus stop, feeling every inch the guidebook novice she was. The man pulled a face, impressed.

Suddenly he whistled through his teeth to the guy on the fish stall and talked in rapid-fire Italian.