All Inclusive (15 page)

‘You look lovely darling,' Beth told her. ‘But aren't you . . . shouldn't you . . .'

‘
What?
Am I what?' Delilah challenged. ‘Cold? Isn't that what you usually say when you think I'm showing too much body? Er, like no? It's about ninety degrees out there?'

‘OK, fine.' Beth backed away a step, her hands up in surrender. She didn't want to drag a cloud over the evening. Whatever Delilah was wearing, there'd be others wearing less – Gina for one, she was willing to bet. And they wouldn't look anything like as good as Delilah. You needed to be under twenty, for your skin to be at its show-off, glowing best, if you planned to reveal that much acreage of it.

‘You look fantastic,' Beth laughed. ‘There's just this clucky habit you get when you're a mum – something to do with keeping your baby chicks safe from preying foxes. You wait till it's your turn. Come on then, let's go and grab some of that horrible sticky punch.'

And talking of preying foxes, she thought . . . ‘Where's Nick? Did you knock on his door on your way, Del?' she asked.

Delilah slip-slopped out of the door in her wedge-heeled shoes, calling back, ‘I did but he wasn't there. He's probably gone on ahead. He played badminton with Sadie after you'd gone for your bath.'

‘What about Mark?' Beth asked, quickly, hoping her son wasn't up to no good. ‘Didn't he feel like joining them?'

‘Oh, Sadie told Nick that Mark didn't do ball games and that he'd gone off to have a sauna. I think he was a bit . . .'

‘Bit what?' Beth asked as Delilah's voice trailed away and she started walking faster, getting well ahead of her parents.

‘A bit
what
, Delilah? You didn't finish the sentence!'

‘Nothing!' Delilah called, now a good ten yards in front of Beth and Ned. ‘Mark's fine! You're walking really slowly and it drives me nuts so I'll see you there!'

Beth watched Delilah disappear round the corner of the Haven spa, towards the pool and the bar terrace. The dark path was lit by festive flares every few feet, brought in for the occasion. The trees were now decorated with swirls of tiny white lights, ready for the Christmas visitors a few weeks away. The festive season was creeping up on them. By the end of the week a Christmas tree would have appeared overnight in the Frangipani restaurant, gold baubles and glittering stars would be hanging from the rafters in the Sundown bar. A pale, skinny cat slunk by, carrying a wriggling rodent in its mouth, and vanished into a clump of hibiscus, and she could hear the steel band strike up a bouncy version of Bob Marley's ‘One Love'.

‘OK, unto the breach we go,' Ned muttered as they approached the terrace, which was crowded already with party-dressed women and clean-scrubbed linen-clad men. ‘Looks like a Home Counties cricket club social,' he added as his last-ditch attempt to persuade Beth into the comparative peace of the Frangipani bar, so handily placed beside the restaurant.

‘Except that in December they wouldn't be outside under palm trees by the sea and wearing strappy little dresses or have gorgeous gleaming tans,' she said through gritted teeth, as she approached the outstretched hand of the Mango Manager.

‘Or reek of mosquito repellent,' he countered in a feeble bid for game, set and match.

Ned caught sight of Cynthia just along the pool terrace by the diving board, chatting to Sam, the dread-locked fitness instructor, and Miriam, the receptionist from the Haven. You could hardly miss Cyn: she was in shocking pink with something beaded and feathery in her loosely piled-up hair. She wasn't concentrating. Ned could see that she was looking for someone from the way her head darted from side to side and her eyes checked out new arrivals. He more than suspected he was the quarry, but luckily the Mango's Manager was a very bulky man so Ned attempted, awkwardly, to place himself so that he wasn't directly in Cyn's eyeline.

Keeping his head low and feeling like a schoolboy playing at spies, he accepted a cherry-pink drink, lavishly bedecked with fruit, from a tray offered by a waitress, and then exchanged, as he'd predicted, a few words about enjoying the holiday and confirming that yes, he was making the most of the lavish facilities. He even found himself agreeing that they could definitely put him down for the staff versus guests volleyball game, a brutal, no-holds-barred event he'd sworn he'd never take part in again after collecting too many bruises to the ribs from sharp elbows.

‘Hey Ned, Beth, come over and sit with us!' Bradley was with his sister Angela, who seemed to have bagged a large table and an entire trayful of various savoury nibbles for herself. She was chomping busily
and another delicious-looking morsel was in her hand, already on its way to her mouth. ‘Try one of these mini-kebabs,' she encouraged Beth, ‘they'll blast your head off.'

‘Thanks, I will in a minute. I was just wondering where our daughter had vanished to.' Beth peered through the crowd as she sipped her gluey drink. It was pretty strong – she hoped that Delilah, if she'd taken one of these instead of the alternative fruit punch, would decide she didn't like it and swap it for something else. There was no immediate sign of her, or of Nick. Nick had probably lain down on his bed for a few minutes and fallen fast asleep. She'd give him a call from the bar phone, as soon as she'd located Delilah. She didn't want to fuss, but in an outfit that minuscule the girl ought to be kept within parental viewing distance. She didn't remember it being so tiny when Delilah had worn it in Fuerteventura that summer – another sign of a growth spurt during her illness.

‘Oh you don't want to worry about your Delilah,' Angela shouted across the table, even though Beth was only a few feet away. ‘She can take care of herself!'

Oh really? And you know that for sure do you? Beth thought but managed not to say. What an irritating woman.

‘She's gone down to the beach with my ex,' Angela went on, waving her glass in the direction of the shore and splashing much of her drink across the table. She didn't seem to have noticed. ‘Gone to look at the stars, they said. Stars my arse!'

‘Sorry, what are you talking about?' Ned joined in. ‘Who is Delilah with?'

‘She's with
Michael
.' Angela leaned forward and beckoned him closer, breathing fierce rum fumes at
him. ‘Michael is taking
care
of her. On the
beach
over there.' She pointed a fuchsia-pink fingernail, adding, ‘In the
dark
.'

‘Ned, perhaps I should go and find her.' Beth started to move away from the table and peered out towards the sea. She wasn't at all concerned now she knew Delilah was with Michael, but she didn't want to stay at this table with Angela. The woman was at the mean-and-feisty stage of drunk.

Several people had overflowed from the terrace to the beach. Some were perched on loungers, chatting, some wandering about, drinks in hand, enjoying the sultry warmth. There was a full moon and a clear sky and the stars were well worth a viewing. Whatever Angela had hinted, it was barely even what you'd call
dark
.

‘Don't take any notice of Angie.' Cynthia caught up with Beth as she peered towards the sea from the edge of the terrace. ‘I heard what she was saying – half the hotel did! She's an evil old bat, loves to stir. Michael had a fling with somebody not much older than Sadie, and Angela thinks he's on the permanent lookout for young blood. It's warped her.'

‘Something certainly has,' Beth agreed. ‘I didn't like what she was getting at. Delilah is only sixteen.' And not, she added to herself, wearing much in the way of clothes.

‘Well, sixteen, lucky her! What a fabulous age!' Cyn laughed. ‘I had a
ball
at sixteen. I kept several boys on the go at once. I could get any of them I wanted.' She clicked her fingers. ‘Just like that. They'd come running.'

Beth gathered that she was supposed to be impressed, although she thought she detected a small note of sourness in Cyn's triumph. At sixteen Beth had been more interested in clothes and music than boys,
though she had fantasized that Adam Ant would ask her to apply his warpaint for him.

‘Of course I was just a trophy,' Cyn continued. The bitterness was definitely there this time. She sounded like a let-down teenager, albeit rather a conceited one. They just wanted me for how I looked,' she went on, ‘so they could brag to their mates. Men, huh? Do they ever change?'

Beth wasn't sure what to say, other than that she rather thought they did. ‘But Bradley's not like that, is he? You got lucky there.'

‘Oh Bradley's a sweetie. But you can't expect fireworks after all these years, can you? You have to make your own.' She opened her bag, pulled out her cigarettes and lighter and inhaled deeply on a duty-free Marlboro Light.

‘Is that what you've been doing? Making fireworks?' Beth asked. Cyn nodded, looking serious. Beth wasn't surprised. It wasn't rocket science to work out that a woman who'd been used to having men fall at her feet might want to recapture that heady power. Perhaps it had been the same sort of thing for Ned.

‘Well you're not the only one,' Beth told her. ‘There's a lot of it about.'

Cyn's eyes widened. In the dark they looked as if they belonged to a tiger with its lunch in sight, rather than a human. ‘What,
you
?
When?
'

Beth laughed. ‘You sound as if it's the most impossible thing you could imagine! Well thanks a lot!'

‘Oh I didn't mean . . . oh you know, it's just you and Ned, you seem so
secure
.' Her hands shook as she put her cigarette to her lips again and her eyes were sharp and glittery. ‘It just shows, I mean you never can tell, can you?'

Beth suddenly twigged that very much the wrong
end of a stick had been grasped. ‘No, no, Cyn, you've got it wrong. I didn't mean that I'd . . .' she started, then abruptly stopped as she heard a shriek and a crash from the far side of the terrace. Through the crush of party guests she could just make out Angela standing up, wiping the front of her dress with a napkin. Bradley was trying to help her but was being pushed away impatiently.

‘Bit of accidental spillage over there by the look of it. Again.' Beth pointed across the pool. ‘Your dear sister-in-law looks like she's dropped her drink down herself.'

‘Pissed old bat. She never could take more than a glass or two.' Cynthia dropped her cigarette and pushed it into the sand with the toe of her elegant gold sandal. ‘I'd better go and rescue Brad. She's one of those who is a fighter when she's drunk. God knows what she'll start saying. I'll see you later.'

Beth watched Cynthia walk around the pool, conscious that she'd taken away with her entirely the wrong impression. The chance would have to come up later to put her right. Or maybe she'd just let it go. It didn't much matter, and, although she'd been about to, she really didn't want to tell her all about Ned. It had just been one of those woman-to-woman moments, and now it had passed.

She turned to go back to the party. She could see Gina and her mother talking to Lesley and decided to go and join them. Glancing back towards the shore she could also see Delilah now, wandering along the edge of the sea carrying her shoes and talking to Michael. The two of them stopped and pointed at the stars. It was one of those nights that was so clear you think you must be seeing every single one in the universe. The more you stared, the more of them came into sight.
Delilah and Michael were coming towards her now, so she waited. Delilah lost her footing and slid sideways on the loose sand and Michael grabbed her arm to steady her. Beth hoped Delilah's unsteadiness wasn't because of that punch. It was strong, heavy stuff. Delilah would be OK with a glass or two of wine, but this potion was something else. She'd probably be horribly sick on just one glass of it. As, she imagined, would Angela.

‘So spliff's really, like, easy to get here?' Nick asked Sadie as he accepted the expertly rolled joint she offered him.

‘Course it is,' she replied with suitable scorn. ‘It's like
tradition
.' She watched him take a couple of drags, then he handed the joint back and she inhaled greedily, narrowing her eyes. What a very pale face she'd got, Nick observed. She must be one of those who took all that government advice on skin cancer to heart. Not the info about smoking though. Or perhaps she just burned easily and didn't want to look blotchy on her wedding photos.

‘It's excellent. Top quality,' he commented. ‘I've got a mate whose mum grows it in her greenhouse. That's not bad either, but there's nothing like a smoke on a beach.'

‘Nah – and how often in England can you do this? Even in the middle of summer it's never quite warm enough.'

Nick giggled, a childlike splutter that made him think of drains gushing in the rain. ‘We're talking about the weather! How
Brit
!' He couldn't seem to stop chortling. Suppose he never did? He'd be chortle-man. Giggle-boy. No matter, it would wear off by morning. Unless it didn't.

They'd made themselves a comfortable and private little enclave there on the beach, safe from over-inquisitive eyes. They weren't far from the pool terrace where the party was fading as guests wandered up to the restaurant for dinner, but all the same, they didn't want members of the management catching pungent drifts of what they were smoking. Mark had pulled together four loungers and shoved a couple of open beach umbrellas deep down into the sand so that they now formed a low roof over the seats.

‘Keeps the smoke in,' he'd explained to Nick before ambling off back towards the bar without another word.

‘He doesn't do smoke,' Sadie said, as Nick was wondering what had made him leave. ‘He's more a pint and a whisky-chaser sort.'

‘He doesn't say a lot either, does he?' Nick wasn't sure how comfortable he was with this – it had felt like Mark was tucking the two of them in for the night. All they needed was a couple of blankets and a bedtime story . . . or a DVD, some popcorn and . . . no, no use thinking that way – the Felicity days were long gone.