Darling Sweetheart (47 page)

‘Tourist buses!’ she panted. ‘But it doesn’t seem possible that
the rest of the world should even exist!’

‘They’re heading up to Cap Formentor, the northernmost tip of the island. But they never come here, ’cos their lardy asses would have to walk.’

‘Do you not miss being part of it?’

‘Part of what?’

‘The rest of the world.’

‘I can be in Palma airport in just over an hour and anywhere I want after that.’

‘That’s not what I meant. I mean, being with my father – don’t you ever want a normal life, a life of your own?’

‘A certain soft toy once challenged me to define “normal”.’

‘Wife, kids, a steady job…’

‘Mortgage, debts, the daily commute, London in the rain?’

‘But you told me you had a girlfriend, the one you split up from. Or was that just another fib?’

‘I had a girlfriend, over in Porto de Soller. She was German, but,’ he shrugged, ‘she turned out to be a nutcase. What can I say? Everyone seems normal – until you get to know them.’

‘I suppose we better start back, in case my father thinks we’ve sneaked off for nookie.’

‘Don’t say that.’

‘Why? Are you scared of him?’

‘No! It’s just that “nookie” makes it sound so cheap.’

‘Now why would that matter to you?’

He paused before answering. ‘Haven’t you noticed somethin’?’

‘What?’

‘I haven’t smoked dope since we got here. You were right – this whole situation is weird enough as it is. I’d like things between you and me to be more… normal, I suppose.’

She stood and stretched. ‘Okay – let’s see if we can do normal. Let’s go out to dinner or something… In fact, the three of us should do something nice and normal together.’

‘Uhh… we could go round to Puerto Pollenca. That’s nice and normal.’

She clapped her hands. ‘We can be tourists!’

Proctor looked dubious. ‘He might not come with us.’

‘He followed us from France to Scotland and back – a trip into town shouldn’t be too much trouble!’ She set off down the hill, skipping from rock to rock. ‘Last one in the water is a poof! Then I’ll inform him of our decision, while you get the boat ready!’

Her heart filled with wonder as they sailed around the timeless pinnacles of Cap Formentor. Her father wore a white suit, a yellow shirt and natty pimp-style sunglasses that were far too young for him, but which somehow helped reassure her that his smiles and laughter were not just another act. He stood beside her on the deck, pointing up at the dots that were holiday-makers peering over Formentor’s terrifying drop from dizzying observation platforms. They passed the vigilant stump of the cape’s lighthouse and on the way into Puerto Pollenca he pointed out an older, higher tower on a hill, built as a lookout for pirates. Ben, who wore a black polo shirt, was tanned and almost handsome – insofar as a face like his could ever be called handsome. He cut a capable figure at the wheel of the boat, bringing them safely through the waves. Annalise knew that she loved both men, very much indeed.

They moored at a marina and she took one on each arm and dragged them through the streets. She got her father to buy her a simple white summer dress at an inexpensive little boutique. The women who owned it put her old clothes in a bag and sent out for make-up and a pair of silver sandals, and they beautified her; and brushed her hair, flirting all the while with her father and Ben, who flirted straight back. It was funny to hear the two of them speak Spanish like a first language; she resolved to start learning it right away. As they walked in the shade of the ancient
trees past the neat little beaches of the Pine Walk, she played a game where she threw words at them, which they had to translate. Words like ‘family’, ‘friends’, ‘together’ and ‘fun’. She felt like a daughter, and a lover.

As the sun set and the horizon turned purple, they took a candle-lit table outside an elegant old hotel called the Illa d’Or. They lounged in wicker chairs, sipping cold white wine, watching shoals of little fish devour the morsels of crusty bread that they tossed into the transparent water. After dinner, more than a bit tiddly, they took the boat back around the cape again, to where the north side of the island wore a brilliant bonnet of stars. The night was bright enough for Ben to see his way into the cove, with the help of a spotlight. She hugged them both on the verandah before she went to bed; her father didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands, but Ben hugged her back tightly and even pecked her on the cheek. She went to sleep with a joy in her heart that she had not felt since childhood.

She was waiting for them on the verandah when they woke. She wore the navy shirt and a pair of Ben’s jeans rolled up to the knee. She had also borrowed a duffel bag, to carry Roselaine’s dress. Ben came downstairs first.

‘mornin’.’

‘Morning.’

‘You’re up early.’

‘I’ve got a lot to do today.’

‘Oh aye?’

‘I need a favour.’

‘Aye?’

‘When you’ve had your breakfast, can you give me a lift to the nearest train station?’

‘Eh?’

‘I’ve decided to never fly again – Emerson has completely put me off it.’

He scratched his head. ‘The nearest train station is in Soller – it takes you into Palma. It’s the only railway on the island. But if you want to go to Palma, I’ll drive you there; it’s much easier.’

‘I don’t want to go to Palma. I meant, the nearest big train station on the mainland.’

He looked shocked. ‘Why?’

‘Because I need to go.’

‘Where?’

‘Away.’

‘Eh?’

At that moment, her father came down the stairs, wearing a white bathrobe, his skin walnut apart from two pale patches around his eyes. He looked even older without his glasses. ‘She says she needs to go,’ Ben informed him.

‘Where?’

‘The mainland. She says she wants to leave.’

‘She can’t! She’s only just got here!’

‘Ask her yourself.’

‘What’s wrong?’ he demanded.

‘Nothing,’ she shrugged.

‘But we had such a splendid night last night! Have we…
offended
you in any way?’

‘No. It was a glorious night and I enjoyed every second of it. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.’

‘Then what’s the problem?’

‘There is no problem.’

‘So stay!’

‘I can’t.’

‘But we have so much to talk about! Eight whole years to catch up on!’

‘A lifetime to catch up on.’

‘So?’

‘So, I need to go.’

‘You’re going back to that idiot and his daft bloody film
which is going to tank!’

‘I know it’ll tank. It’s a decent script, but he’ll ruin it.’

‘You’re going to marry him, after everything we’ve done!’ Both men, she noticed, looked worried.

‘I doubt very much if I’ll ever see Harry Emerson again, in the flesh at least. I’m not going back to his film and I don’t care what it means for my career. I’d rather marry Osama bin Laden than be with Harry Emerson.’

‘Thank fuck for that,’ Ben breathed.

‘Then why do you have to go?’ her father insisted.

‘Because I’m happy.’

There was a long pause as they stared at her. Then her father said, ‘That is such a
woman
thing to say!’

She made a show of looking inside her shirt. ‘Yup. Still there…’

Ben seemed pained. ‘I’m afraid I don’t get it either…’

‘If I stay,’ she sighed, ‘I’ll end up torn between the two of you. We’ll start falling out amongst ourselves, I just know.’

‘But that’s ridiculous!’ Her father laughed. ‘Clearly, Ben should leave! Ben,’ he ordered, ‘go and pack a bag! Leave me alone with my daughter!’

‘No!’ she interjected. ‘I’ve decided that I need some time without a man messing with my head, no matter how much he means to me.’ She glanced up at her father, and there were tears in her eyes. ‘For the first time since you died, I feel like there’s such a thing as me.’

‘But I’m not dead!’ He stamped a foot. ‘I want to make a comeback! I want to come out of hiding so as we can make a film together! Think of the publicity! Screen legend David Palatine returns from the grave! Makes movie with drop-dead-gorgeous daughter! An amazing biopic, based on true events!’

Ben sighed. ‘I don’t think the world is ready for that…’

‘What would you know?’ her father snapped. ‘You’re just a rope-climber!’

‘You see?’ She wiped her eyes. ‘You’re fighting already!’

Her father looked around desperately. He spotted Froggy lying on a chair. He grabbed him and held him up.

‘Bug-face – listen to your old man!’ Froggy commanded, in a perfect Froggy voice. ‘He’s an incredible jerk but he’ll probably die soon and you’ll be sorry if you leave. You should stay with him and enjoy some precious last moments together!’

She gave her father a look. ‘I’m not five years old any more. Here,’ she held her duffel bag open, ‘I’ll take it with me, so as it doesn’t clutter your place up.’ Slowly, he dropped Froggy in the bag. ‘Now please, Ben,’ she appealed, ‘can you take me to the mainland?’

Ben made three last coffees and, she noticed, rolled himself a joint, even though it was barely eight o’clock. Her father slumped on the verandah. She drank her coffee in silence then knelt in front of him. Gently, she put her hands up to his cheeks. They were wet and his sad, brown eyes were red around the rims.

‘It’s okay, Darling Sweetheart,’ she whispered, ‘I’m not cross. You’re a good boy, because you came back to me again.’

‘Please,’ he whimpered, ‘what do you want me to do?’

But she just kissed his forehead and set off down the track.

It took over three hours to get to Barcelona. Ben insisted on accompanying her in the taxi from the port to the train station, even though she asked him not to. As the car inched through the traffic, he put his hand on hers.

‘Can I come with you?’

‘This may sound funny, but I really appreciate what you’ve done for him. I know he’s an impossible bloody git, but if you really want to help me, keep on helping him; for a while, anyway. Let’s see what happens next.’

‘What do you want to happen next?’

‘I think,’ she gave his hand a squeeze then withdrew hers,
‘that’s something we all need to think about, don’t you?’

The taxi pulled up in front of Estació Sants. Ben told the driver to wait and walked her inside. The chrome, crowds and lights hurt her eyes. She stopped on the bustling platform.

‘So this is it, then?’ He embraced her. ‘You’re not gonna insult me with a stuffed frog?’ But she just pecked him chastely on the cheek. ‘Where are you going? Back to London?’

‘No. I need to be somewhere quieter, for while.’

‘Where?’

‘I’ve just remembered something – will you pass on a message for me?’

‘If it doesn’t get me shot.’

‘Tell my father that Lucy Goddard is a cripple and that Monica really needs some help. Tell him he should do something – if not for old times’ sake, then to prove he’s still a member of the human race.’

‘I’ll tell him that. Better still, I’ll make bloody sure he does something.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Uhh… you didn’t say where you’re headed…’

Just as she opened her mouth, the guard’s whistle sounded. She smiled, hugged him tight, then boarded the train. As it pulled out, she took Froggy from the duffel bag and buried herself in a window seat.

Two days later, she knelt on the stone floor of Evelyn Munroe’s living room in the shore cottage at Pittenweem. Carefully, she sat Froggy on the rear window ledge. Spots of green, white and purple light glowed on his fur, refracted through the stained-glass panel of nymphs helping fisher-boats home from the sea. Evelyn sang in the kitchen as she made a pot of tea.

‘Listen,’ Annalise whispered to Froggy, ‘we’ll be safe here. From now on, we’ll take good care of one other, like a proper family should. I promise I’ll never leave you again, but we need
to rest for a while. It’s funny… you know the way they say you can choose your friends but not your family? Well, we never had a proper family, so do you think maybe we get to choose one now? I know men can be a bit thick, but it’s really quite simple: if they love us enough, they’ll come and find us.’

Froggy stared at her for quite some time.

‘Some family,’ he eventually croaked.