Ibiza Summer (16 page)

‘Hey,
I
didn’t bring it up –
you
did!’ He gave me a careful look, checking to see if he’d overstepped the mark and caused offence.

‘Oh ha, ha, very funny,’ I said, smiling sarcastically.

I knew he was just trying to make light of it, make me laugh and see the funny side. I thought it was maybe his way of saying all was forgiven. ‘A joker as well as everything else,’
I scoffed. ‘Is there no end to your list of talents?’

‘Now let me see . . .’ Rex said, putting a finger up to his mouth in an overstated pondering gesture. He was pretending to count on his fingers and was muttering under his breath.
‘Superstar DJ . . . yes . . . er, stunning guitar player and musician, world-class diver and fisherman – check . . . great cook and —’

I picked up a beer mat from the table and threw it at him. He put his hand up to his face and laughed.

‘Seriously though, I want to take you everywhere with me. Show you
everything
,’ he said. ‘There’s so much I want you to see and do and so little . . .’

I knew he was about to say ‘time’ and I was glad when he didn’t finish the sentence.

Bringing up the subject of me leaving to go home would have spoiled the perfectly lovely and flirty banter we were enjoying.

I was touched that he wanted to take me everywhere with him. I wanted him to show me all the places he’d been to and loved. I knew that with each outing I would discover a little bit more
about him – the story of his life. And I wanted to be part of that story more than anything in the world.

Right then, I vowed that I would tell him the truth soon, because I hated the fact that I was keeping something from him. You just don’t keep secrets from the people you love, do you?

‘You’re so different from how I thought you would be when I first met you,’ I found myself saying. ‘I thought you’d be . . .’ I paused.

‘Go on . . . tell me . . . what did you think? I’d really like to know,’ he said, cocking his head to one side.

‘Well, I guess that, being a DJ, I just thought you’d be this really flashy type. But you’re not like that at all – you’re kind and thoughtful and you care about
people and you love animals —’

‘And butterflies,’ he added.

‘And butterflies . . . and you have all these strong principles. You’ve got time for people who aren’t like you or who fit into a “cool” gang. And you’re
sensitive and you like love songs . . . You’re just wonderful, I suppose.’

Rex was smiling at me now, a huge cat-that-got-the-cream smile, and I playfully pushed him. ‘Yes, I am wonderful, aren’t I?’

‘Oh and add “modest” to that list too!’ I laughed, pushing him again. ‘And what about me?’ I asked, because I really wanted to know how he felt about me too.
‘What did you think of me when we first met?’

Usually, I’d never have been brave enough to ask anyone such a question. But I was so at ease with Rex that it felt natural.

‘You? Well, I thought you were OK I suppose,’ he said teasing me.

‘No, seriously,’ I said, shifting with anticipation in my seat.

‘Well in that case,’ he said, taking me by the hand, ‘when I first saw you at Alfredo’s, I just knew I had to get to know you.’ Absentmindedly playing with my
fingers, he continued, ‘There was something in your eyes when I stopped you that time and directed you to the toilet . . .’

I blushed as I remembered how I had felt: awkward and embarrassed, yet delighted.

‘Something infinitely kind. It was endearing, the way you looked so uncomfortable. I felt drawn to you. That’s why I followed you outside. You had this aura about you. I know it
sounds like a line, and a cheesy one, but I felt sure there was this spiritual connection between us. Call it chemistry, magic, whatever, but it was so strong. And of course, there’s the fact
that you’re very beautiful,’ he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. ‘I couldn’t take my eyes off you. You stood out from the crowd. And now that I know
you, now that we’ve managed to spend some time together, I realise I was right. You have a heart the size of Manchester and your smile lights up a room. Like I said before, I feel I’ve
known you for ever. I
hope
I know you for ever.’

I was stunned into silence. I looked at him, paralysed in my chair, unable to speak, to take in his words. No one had ever said anything like this to me in my life before. How had he seen so
much in me, whereas others before him had seen nothing? Up until now, no one had ever looked past my awkwardness. In the eyes of most lads I knew, I felt sure I just blended into the background. I
was Willow Roberts’s mate, the one with the mad hair that didn’t say much. No one had ever bothered to try and discover who I really was and the things I thought and felt. But it
didn’t matter whether I believed I was all those things myself. If Rex thought so, that was all that mattered.

t was Sunday and I was back at the apartment doodling on a piece of paper and thinking about the past week’s
events.

I picked my phone up to text Willow. I wondered why she hadn’t been texting me every day like she had promised. Could it be that she was too busy hanging out with her new best friend to
bother? Would it look like I was desperate if I kept on texting her first? The thought made me miserable. Things had always been so spontaneous between us, but now everything felt different –
like I needed to consider what I would say.

In the absence of knowing what else to write, I sent her a little smiley face icon that winked and underneath I wrote,
WISH YOU WERE HERE
,
IZ
X

It wasn’t a lie either. I really did wish she was here. I felt sure, in my heart of hearts, that if Willow had been here in Ibiza, I wouldn’t need to worry about anything much at
all, least of all Ellie and the lies I had been telling her. Willow would’ve made the perfect alibi and I knew that she would’ve had Ellie wrapped round her little finger, just like she
does with everyone else.

Despite a few near misses and all the stress and trauma these had brought with them, lying to Ellie had been, in the grand scheme of things, much easier than I had bargained on, particularly
since Edie’s genius little plan seemed to be working a treat. As a result, the past few days I’d been managing to slip away to see Rex and we’d been spending afternoons on the
beach, our beach, messing about in the sea and sunning our bodies next to each other or zipping down to Ibiza Town on his moped to window-shop in all the posh boutiques. Sometimes though, Rex had
things to do; gigs to arrange, club owners to liaise with and he spent time practising his sets with Steve.

I understood. After all, he’d had a life before he met me and couldn’t just drop everything to kick back with me on the beach all day, even if he had wanted to – which
he’d assured me he did. Although knowing this brought me some comfort, I had to keep reminding myself that I was on holiday and that Ibiza was his life and that included work and all the
day-to-day drudgery, even if it was set against such a beautiful, scenic backdrop. ‘Still got to work, even if the sun’s shining,’ he’d said to me one day when he
couldn’t meet me. But it was little consolation.

I missed him like crazy when we were apart although I tried my best not to make him feel bad about it; even if I felt sure the disappointment at not being able to spend all our time together was
written on my face. To try and redress the balance a bit, I had decided that I would go to the beach with Edie before she went home, like I had promised. So on the Tuesday, while Rex was zipping
around the island with Steve arranging that night’s DJ set and generally being a man about town, I sloped off to Playa d’en Bossa with her for a couple of hours before her flight in the
evening and, presumably as a parting gift, her parents let her go with me alone.

‘So do you reckon this lad is in love with you then?’ Edie had asked me as she bobbed up and down in the sea on her embarrassing crocodile lilo (note: I’d borrowed
Charlotte’s pink lilo, which was much less conspicuous).

‘Oh, I really don’t know,’ I’d said, my eyes closed as I let my arms and legs flop into the cool water beneath me. I had felt a little embarrassed talking about it.

‘I reckon he is,’ she’d said, smugly.

I opened my eyes this time and squinted in the sunlight to get a better look at her expression.

‘What makes you say that?’ I’d asked, intrigued.

‘Oh I don’t know.’ Edie had shrugged dramatically. ‘You have the air of a woman who is loved about you.’

I’d laughed because it seemed such a funny thing for anyone to say, not least a fourteen-year-old, but I also felt quite chuffed because, looking back, Edie had been pretty spot on about
Rex and me so far and I hoped she was right.

‘Will you write to me when you get back to England?’ she had asked, hope apparent in her tone. ‘I’ll give you my e-mail address.’

‘Of course,’ I promised, and this time I really meant it.

That same afternoon, after I’d said goodbye to Edie and Rex had finished his chores, he took me to lunch at Pepe’s Bar, like he’d promised to, and we sampled
some of that infamous paella he’d raved about.

On the way there, we’d spotted something lying in the road. Rex had pulled over so we could take a look, and when we got closer we realised it was a bird. It had probably been hit by a
passing car or bike and was in its final death throes; its once strong and colourful wings flapping pathetically as it yelped and squawked. ‘We’ve got to do something,’ I pleaded,
crouching down and trying to pick up the distressed creature. ‘It’ll die if we don’t do something . . .’

But, sensing danger, the bird became even more frantic and made this horrible, screaming sound, desperate to escape.

‘It’s OK,’ Rex said gently, a reassuring tone in his voice. ‘I know what to do.’ He knelt down next to me and I looked at him, desolate. Slowly and carefully, he
held his hands out towards the bird and started making a funny cooing noise. ‘
Cooooo
,
coooooo
. . . There, there,’ he said. ‘It’s OK, little fella. We
won’t hurt you . . .’ Eventually the little bird was perfectly still, its dark black eyes blinking back at Rex as he tenderly picked it up in his hands and gently placed it down
underneath a small tree.

I stood transfixed by the way the bird had just let him pick it up without a fuss.

‘How did you do that?’

‘The cooing noise,’ Rex said, pulling some leaves and a bit of greenery in around the bird to protect it. ‘They recognise it. It’s a bit like talking to them.’

‘Do you think it will die?’ I asked thinly, looking down at the tiny, helpless little bird and suddenly feeling a profound sadness.

Rex stood up and turned to look at me. He held out his hand for me to take it and pulled me close. It was warm in his arms and I could feel the softness of the skin on his neck against my
cheek.

‘Oh, Iz,’ he said. I knew he was thinking the same thing as me; I could see the same sadness in his eyes as my own. I had thought of my dad when I saw that poor wretched creature
lying helpless in the road and I felt sure he had thought of this too. That’s why he had done his best to try and save it.

‘Thank you,’ I whispered. He didn’t need to ask me why I was thanking him. At that moment our hearts and minds were in sync with each other, and I was sure he already knew.

The moment with the bird had touched me so deeply. Seeing the kindness in him, how gentle and sensitive he could be, had made me fall in love with him just that little bit more, if that was at
all possible.

I had held on to this feeling in the week that followed, as we drank coffee by the marina and watched the boats that were moored there bobbing up and down in the water. We talked about what we
would name our yacht if – or as Rex had said,
when
we owned one ourselves, and whenever he said things like that, little things that suggested there was a future for us and that there
would still be a ‘we’ even after I’d gone home, my heart would leap up into my throat and my stomach would twist in knots. By now, the thought of me leaving him was indescribable
and when my mind tricked itself into thinking about it, just for a split second, it felt like someone was reaching deep inside me, pulling my heart out through my mouth. I couldn’t even begin
to imagine how I was going to feel when the time came for me to say goodbye. So I did what I always do. I pretended it wasn’t going to happen, even though, of all people, I should really have
known better.