Foreign Affairs (56 page)

‘Gill tells me you’re working miracles on the monsters,’ he said, his eyes roving up and down her tanned leggy figure. Jennifer felt uncomfortable. ‘She didn’t tell
me how pretty you were,’ he added, giving her what she could only describe as a lecherous smile. Jennifer’s heart sank. Imagine having to put up with him for a month.

‘They’re no trouble, Mr Curtis,’ she murmured. It was ten-thirty, the children were in bed and Gillian had just collected him from Palma Airport.

‘
Mr Curtis
! Good heavens. The name is Bryan,’ he said expansively.

‘Bryan,’ she echoed politely. Gillian reappeared, much to her relief.

‘Come and join us for supper,’ she invited.

‘I have a bit of a headache. I think I’ll have an early night,’ Jennifer fibbed.

‘Oh, you poor thing,’ Gillian exclaimed.

‘That’s usually the kind of thing my wife says,’ Bryan joked. Gillian glared at him.

‘Goodnight then,’ Jennifer said hastily and made a quick retreat to the safety of her room. Flinging herself on the bed, she shook out Ronan’s latest letter to reread it and
savour it in peace and quiet. There were letters from Paula and her mother as well. They’d all arrived that morning but she’d only had the chance to skim through them. Gillian had been
up to ninety. The children, aware that their father was coming, were excitable. It had been a long day. It was nice to be alone with her mail.

Ronan was working like a demon. He’d saved a lot of money. He’d gone to Atlantic City for the weekend and won twenty dollars on the gambling machines. His boss in the restaurant had
told him if he wanted to stay in America he could become manager of the restaurant because he was the best worker he’d ever employed, Ronan wrote proudly. He had phoned home but William
wouldn’t speak to him, and Rachel was too intimidated to say more than a few words. Jennifer felt terribly sad for him. She’d love to be with him, to put her arms around him and tell
him not to take any notice of his bastard of a father. He’d told her that he missed her and that the highlight of his day was when one of her letters arrived. She felt the same, she’d
assure him.

Paula’s letter was much shorter. She was fed up in St Margaret’s Bay. She missed Dublin and Helen, and working for Nick. Jennifer’s job sounded a thousand times more
interesting, Paula moaned. She wished she was living the life of Reilly in a luxury villa in Majorca. Barry had pissed off to Australia, and though she was dating the assistant manager of the
hotel, it was only a summer romance, while she was at home. Helen had told her she wouldn’t be able to get her a cheap flight until later in the season so it looked as if she wouldn’t
be able to meet up with Jennifer. She seemed totally fed up, Jennifer thought. Which wasn’t like Paula. Somehow or other, Jennifer couldn’t imagine Paula putting up with Emma and Gavin.
She chuckled at the thought. Being an au pair was not half as glamorous as Paula imagined it was.

Her mother’s letter was cheerful and newsy. All about the boys and Brenda and what Grandpa Myles’s latest was. Reading it, Jennifer felt suddenly homesick. Soon she’d be home,
she comforted herself. And then what? No job, waiting for her exam results. All at once going home didn’t sound that appealing.

The following day, she was swimming with the children in the pool when Bryan appeared through the french doors.

‘Daddy, Daddy,’ Emma shrieked, galloping up the steps at the shallow end.

‘Look at me, Dad, Dad, look at me I can belly-flop!’ Gavin shouted, clambering out of the side of the pool and falling in dramatically.

‘I told you not to do that, Gavin,’ Jennifer said sternly as he came up gasping and spluttering.

‘My daddy lets me,’ Gavin said cheekily, repeating the exercise. Great, thought Jennifer in disgust. All my hard work down the drain. Before she knew what was happening, Bryan had
slipped out of his robe and belly-flopped into the pool himself.

‘Dad, that was brill!’ his son exclaimed, casting a triumphant look at Jennifer.

Prat! she thought as Bryan surfaced and swam towards her.

‘Morning, Jennifer, you’re a sight for sore eyes,’ he greeted her chummily.

‘Morning,’ she said coolly. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of calling him Bryan.

‘You’ve a lovely colour.’ He ran a finger down her arm. Jennifer froze. He was deliberately standing very close to her, ogling her.

‘I think I’ll get out now.’ She swam sideways around him down to the far end of the pool. She was furious. The cheek of him, touching her like that. And looking at her like
that. Who did he think he was? Paula would have cut him down to size with a few well-chosen words, but Jennifer wasn’t one bit sure how to handle the obnoxious Mr Curtis.

The next week was a nightmare. He constantly sought excuses to touch her and make lewd joking remarks to her. Jennifer was very uncomfortable. Gillian ignored him. The kids were as bold as
brass.

‘I’m sick of him,’ she complained to Charlotte as they sat sipping San Miguel beer at a café overlooking the bay. ‘He’s revolting. He thinks he’s
God’s gift. No matter how rude I am he still keeps harassing me. Even in front of Gillian.’

‘He sounds like a right moron,’ Charlotte observed. ‘Do you know what my beauties did? They had a party last night and Stella told me if I cleaned up this morning, she’d
pay me extra seeing as today’s my day off. Well I cleaned up, it took me two and a half hours, the place was in a shambles. And in the end, I had to give the kids their breakfast because the
other pair had such hangovers, so I might as well not have had a day off. Do you know how much extra the mean slag gave me? Five bloody quid. I’ve a good mind to pack my bags and
split.’

‘Would you go home?’ Jennifer asked.

‘Naw,’ Charlotte said vehemently. ‘I’d go to the Costa on the mainland. I know a couple of girls who did that, they made great money working in bars and restaurants. It
would be a hell of a lot better than what I’m doing. Talk about slave labour!’

‘It sounds good,’ Jennifer remarked.

Charlotte’s eyes lit up. ‘Let’s do a bunk! We’d have a great time. It’s high season, I bet we’d have no trouble getting a job. We could stay with one of my
friends until we got a place,’ she said excitedly.

Jennifer laughed. ‘Are you mad? We couldn’t just take off.’

‘I could,’ Charlotte said glumly.

Lying in bed that night, having endured Bryan’s smutty remarks, Jennifer was sorely tempted to phone Charlotte and tell her she would join her in the flight to the Costa del Sol.

Two days later, she had just put the children to bed. Gillian was lying down with a headache. Bryan was pacing around in a bad humour. He’d been drinking.

‘Do you fancy going for a drink?’ he asked. ‘It’s high time I took you out for a meal. You deserve a treat for working so hard.’

‘No thank you. I’m only doing the job I’m paid to do. There’s no need for you to feel you have to treat me,’ she said politely. A meal with Bryan Curtis was not
Jennifer’s idea of a treat.

‘Come on, Jennifer.’ He slipped an arm around her waist, his fingers sweaty against her skin. ‘Let’s get to know one another a bit better.’

‘Look, do you mind?’ Jennifer struggled to evade his embrace. ‘I don’t go for meals with married men.’

‘Oh for goodness sake, Jennifer, don’t let that stop you. Gillian won’t mind, we have an open marriage.’

‘Well I suggest you close it,’ Jennifer snapped, trying to pull away.

‘Oh come on, stop playing hard to get. You’re beautiful, I want to touch you,’ he said hoarsely, trying to kiss her.

Jennifer nearly died of fright and shock and revulsion.

‘Let go of me!’ She fought against him trying to push him away. His hands mauled her, touching her breasts and thighs. A lamp crashed to the ground in their skirmish. It didn’t
stop Bryan, his breath was hot against her cheeks, she could feel him trying to force his leg between hers.

‘What the hell is going on here?’ Gillian stood at the door. Jennifer felt Bryan’s hold loosen. Panting she pushed him away.

‘You’re despicable. You’re a dirty revolting slob. How dare you treat me like that! How dare you lay your slimy hands on me! You make me want to vomit,’ Jennifer sobbed,
rushing out of the room. She felt dirty. Bile rose in her throat and she just made the bathroom in time. She retched miserably. Afterwards, she sat on the edge of the bath, shaking. She could hear
Gillian and Bryan shouting at each other.

‘You’re pathetic,’ she could hear Gillian yelling. ‘Thinking a lovely young girl like that would be interested in you, you vain bastard. Go back to that slut Baldwin,
she’s just as vulgar as you are. Her taste is where you should be, in the gutter.’

‘Shut the fuck up, you,’ Bryan yelled back. ‘You’re no fucking angel.’

Listening to them shouting obscenities at each other, Jennifer knew she wasn’t going to spend another minute under their roof. Adrenalin coursed through her. She packed her case swiftly,
throwing her clothes in any old way. She got her passport out of the drawer, and her pesetas. Then she slipped out of her room quietly and walked towards the kitchen. At least she didn’t have
to pass the lounge, where she could hear Gillian and Bryan still arguing bitterly. She let herself out the back door. It was dark out, and there was a small side gate she could use which meant she
wouldn’t have to walk down the illuminated drive.

As soon as she was out of the grounds, she half ran down the hill towards town. She knew where Conchita lived, she was sure the kindly housekeeper would put her up for the night until she
decided what she was going to do.

Conchita was horrified to see her standing outside her apartment with her case. In a great flurry, she ushered her into the living-room.

‘You must have a brandy,’ she insisted, pouring Jennifer a stiff drink. ‘Tell me what happened.’

As best she could, in Spanish, Jennifer told her about Bryan and his shocking behaviour. Conchita let out a string of curses, gesticulating wildly.

‘You must stay here, of course.’ She hugged Jennifer tightly. Conchita was nothing if not motherly, Jennifer thought gratefully.

The following morning, Conchita left for work, having promised that neither she nor Estella would divulge Jennifer’s whereabouts. Jennifer lay in bed. It was strange not to have to get up
and feed the children and plan their day. She stretched luxuriously.

No way was she going back to that villa. She’d had enough of Bryan Curtis and his sleazy behaviour. Let him look after his children for the rest of the month. Since he’d arrived
they’d been as bold as ever in their pathetic search for attention. She couldn’t face another minute with that family.

‘They’re going crazy,’ Conchita reported gleefully that evening. She was enjoying the intrigue immensely. ‘They asked me if I knew where you were. I said no. They rang
Charlotte and of course she didn’t know. The kids were running wild.
He
. . .’ Conchita said it with disdain, ‘was shouting at her to do something with them. She tells
him to fuck off, it is his own fault you left. I tell you, Jennifer, they are not happy people.’

Jennifer sighed. She didn’t feel too good about leaving Gillian in the lurch, but she couldn’t go back if Bryan was there. ‘I’d better ring Charlotte, she might be
worried,’ she said to Conchita.

‘Congratulations. I’d have slapped the dirty bugger in the chops if I’d had the chance,’ Charlotte said vehemently on hearing the news. ‘What are you going to
do?’

‘I don’t know yet,’ Jennifer said. ‘Conchita said I can stay as long as I like but I don’t like putting her out. Maybe I should get a flight home.’

‘Don’t do anything hasty,’ Charlotte instructed. ‘I’ll talk to you tomorrow.’

Jennifer put the phone down and went out and sat on Conchita’s small balcony. The sun was setting, tinting the sky with great swathes of pink and purple and gold. It was breathtaking. The
waters of the bay were glassy, mirroring the colours of the sky. Crickets chirruped. The air was heavy with the scent of jasmine. Jennifer knew she didn’t want to go home.

The following afternoon, Charlotte phoned.

‘Meet me in Manolo’s Bar in half an hour,’ she instructed. Jennifer did as she was told. She found Charlotte sitting at a table under the awning. At her feet lay her suitcase.
‘Here.’ She held out an envelope to Jennifer.

Mystified, Jennifer took it and opened it. It contained an airline ticket to Malaga Airport.

‘Costa del Sol, here we come,’ Charlotte grinned.

‘What?’ Jennifer couldn’t believe her ears, or her eyes.

‘We’re going. The flight is at nine tonight. I’ve spoken to a friend of mine there, we can stay in her apartment until we get a place of our own. Are you coming or
not?’

‘What about Stella and the kids?’

‘What about them?’ Charlotte snorted. ‘I’ve had enough of being treated like dirt. I’m going, Jennifer, even if you’re not.’

Jennifer felt a
frisson
of excitement. She wasn’t usually a very impulsive person but there was something exciting about the idea of heading off to a new city. She had more than
enough money to keep her going. She might as well have adventures like this now, before she ended up like Brenda, desk-bound and in a rut in the County Council.

‘I’m coming too,’ she announced. ‘How much do I owe you for the ticket?’

‘We can fix that up later. Do you think I could come and spend what’s left of the afternoon in Conchita’s? In case they send out a posse.’

‘Of course, come on,’ Jennifer said hastily. ‘Conchita won’t mind, I’m sure.’

‘You must stay with my cousin Raphael. He owns apartments near Fuengirola. I will give you a letter to give to him. And then I won’t have to worry. I will know you are in safe
hands,’ Conchita declared when she heard of the plan.

‘Thanks for everything, Conchita.’ Jennifer hugged the plump, kind-hearted woman. She’d grown fond of her.

There was much kissing and gesticulating and blessings bestowed when the taxi came to collect them and Jennifer waved until they were out of sight. She felt sad leaving Santa Juan, it was a
lovely little town.

She phoned Gillian from the airport. She felt it was the least she could do.