The Holiday (16 page)

‘Yes, darling,’ Laura had said, ‘you for one! Would you like to stay for supper, Izzy? It’s only a lamb hotpot, nothing special.’ The invitation had taken her by surprise. She had caused goodness knows how many hundreds of pounds’ worth of damage to a man’s car and here was his wife offering her a meal. She accepted the invitation and stayed until nearly midnight, not realising how the time was flying by as they laughed and chatted. As he helped Izzy into her coat when she insisted that she really had to go, Max had said to Laura, ‘Why don’t you invite Izzy to go along to that pseudo-intellectual-artsyfartsy group you’ve recently joined?’

Laura had laughed. ‘It might not be Izzy’s idea of a fun evening. To be honest, I’m not sure that it’s mine. I’ve only been to three sessions, but it seems to be an excuse for a lot of legitimised snobbery in the name of appreciating art.’

But that was how Izzy’s friendship with Laura had really taken off. They had become allies as they sat at the back of the class in the draughty village hall, trying not to laugh at the pretentious lecturer as he pranced about the creaking wooden floor with his bow-tie,
pince-nez
and hand-embroidered waistcoats. ‘Brian Sewell meets Lionel Blair,’ Izzy had whispered to Laura, two minutes into the first class. Luckily the lecturer was so caught up in the sound of his own pedantic voice that he didn’t hear them sniggering. However, from then on one or two other members of the group went out of their way to give them looks of open hostility. ‘Oh dear, I’ll be getting you a terribly bad name,’ Izzy had said in the car on the way home, later that evening.

‘No worse than it already is,’ Laura had said. ‘Don’t forget the crazy man I’m married to.’

With her head resting on the stones, Izzy was alerted to the sound of footsteps. She sat up and saw Theo approaching. He was dressed for a swim, which meant that, other than a towel slung loosely around his shoulders, he was wearing only a pair of swimming shorts. Seeing her, he raised his hand and made his way along the sunlit beach.

‘Hello, Izzy,’ he said, drawing level and sitting beside her, ‘you’re up very early.’

‘So are you.’

‘Ah, with me, it is habit. And you? What is your excuse?’

‘It seems a shame to waste a single moment here. It’s so lovely. I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll be able to leave when it’s time to go back to England.’

‘But that is such a long way off. There is no need for you to think of that now. Allow yourself to enjoy what you have today, don’t spoil it with tomorrow’s anxieties. You have been drawing, eh?’ He reached a hand over her legs to the discarded sketchpad. He studied it for a few seconds then raised his eyes to the rocky outcrop she had drawn. ‘This is very good. Do you draw people as well?’

‘I do, but not very well. I can’t do noses. It doesn’t matter who they are, they all end up with the same nose.’

‘Anyone’s in particular?’

She laughed. ‘A Medici hawk-nose, so don’t ever ask me to do your portrait.’

He laughed too and held her gaze. ‘Would you have dinner with me tonight?’

When she didn’t say anything, he passed her the sketchpad. ‘My question has surprised you?’

‘Um ... What about your guest?’

‘You want him to join us?’

She could see that he was teasing her. ‘I meant, won’t it be rude leaving him on his own?’

‘He is a good friend. He will not mind. Or maybe you are prevaricating. Perhaps you do not want to have dinner with me. Is it possible that you don’t trust me?’

Yes, he was definitely teasing her. But as his dark eyes bored into hers, she found herself wondering whom she trusted less. Him with his smooth, worldly charm, or herself with her pitiful inexperience.

As if sensing her thoughts, he said, ‘I will behave very well with you, Izzy. I will be the perfect gentleman. You will be quite safe.’

Now, where had she heard that before?

Then suddenly it wasn’t Theo sitting next to her, but Alan. Alan making the same claim —
You’re quite safe with me.

Instantly any notion of saying yes to Theo was blown away. A tornado of anger ripped through her, Theo was after only one thing, and once he’d got it, he would be on his way, laughing quietly to himself with not a thought for her feelings.

What a monumental fool she had so very nearly made of herself.

And how much easier could she have made it for him?

Well, this was one notch on the bedpost that he wouldn’t be carving.

To the sound of Modern Woman cheering in approval, Izzy slid her things into her bag and stood up. ‘You’re right,’ she said, looking down at him, ‘I don’t trust you. But don’t take it personally. Enjoy your swim.’ To her ears, there was no bitterness in her words, just a reassuring ring of finality. And triumph. This was an important victory for her self-esteem.

 

Puzzled, Theo watched Izzy stride away. Was it something he had said?

Over breakfast at Villa Anna, he put the same question to Mark. ‘Clearly I said something to offend her, but I cannot think what it was.’

Mark laughed. ‘I told you yesterday. It’s time to face up to it — you’re losing it, mate.’

Banging his cup of coffee down on the table, and spilling some, Theo said, ‘Mark, please, I am being serious.’

‘Hey, easy there, Casanova. So why does it bother you so much that she turned you down? Is it really such a strange phenomenon for you?’

‘I know what you’re thinking, that it’s merely vanity, but it is more than that, I promise you. I am concerned that I may have upset her.’

‘And that bothers you?’

‘You seem surprised.’

‘Well, put it this way. We could sit here until this evening putting together a list of all the women you must have upset at some time or other in a life given over to the thrill of the chase. Admittedly your game-plan never included deliberately hurting them, but think how used they must have felt when you moved on to the next conquest.’

‘Oh, but you’re wrong. They used me as much as I used them.’

‘Maybe some of them did, but I bet the majority thought they would mean something more to you than a casual affair. As deluded as they were, I guarantee that they all thought they would be the one to change you.’

‘To tie me down?’

Mark shook his head. ‘No. To make you fall in love with them.’

‘But you know as well as I do, nobody can make another person fall in love with them.’

‘But isn’t that what you’ve always tried to do? Isn’t that why you continually pursue one woman after another? You want them to love you. Just as I pursued drugs and alcohol with such conviction, so you have used women. I don’t think it’s labouring the point when I say you’re probably addicted to the attention women give you.’

Even if Theo had got an answer for Mark’s outrageous statement, which he hadn’t, he was let off the hook by the appearance of Angelos, who had come to clean the pool and tend the garden.

Another time.

Until now Max had been listening to Laura and Izzy’s conversation with only half an ear, but something in their tone diverted his attention from his breakfast-time reading of the latest exploits of the old-enough-to-know-better woman and her schoolboy lover. The story, though no longer front-page news, was maintaining a good head of steam. Apparently they were still on the run, their whereabouts a mystery, but they were popping up everywhere: there had been sightings of them in Taunton, Hull, Dublin and the Algarve.

‘But why, Izzy? Why did you say no to him?’

Lowering his paper and glancing at his wife’s face, Max thought he detected more than just mild disbelief in her expression. ‘Well, if anyone’s interested in my opinion,’ he said, ‘as fond as I am of Theo, I think it serves the cocky devil right. It’s about time somebody gave him a metaphorical knee in the groin. Well done, Izzy. Good for you.’

‘You’re only saying that because you’re jealous,’ said Laura, giving him a look he couldn’t quite fathom.

‘Jealous, my little honey-pie?’ he responded, trying to share a conspiratorial wink with Izzy, but failing miserably. Her eyes were on Laura. ‘Of what precisely?’

‘Like most men, you’re envious of one of your number who has a flair for — ’ She stopped short, as if thinking better of what she had been going to say.

‘What flair would that be?’ asked Izzy, her face like thunder. ‘Would it by any chance have something to do with him thinking he has the ability to lead the stupidest of fools straight to his bed? And is that what you want for me? A one-night stand that leaves me feeling used and abused? Well, is it?’

‘Of course not,’ Laura said defensively, ‘but you’re deliberately and wildly distorting the situation.’

Max didn’t consider himself the most observant or sensitive of men, but even he sensed the air of tension around the breakfast table. He had never seen Izzy look cross before. He had seen her miserable and upset, but never angry. Especially not towards Laura. Back at home when Laura and Francesca were having one of their occasional spats, he would leave them to it, retreating to the sanctuary of the office, but here escape wasn’t going to be so easy. He folded his paper carefully, put it on the ground beside his chair and said, ‘I know I’m a dull old fellow when it comes to finer feelings and sub-plots, but has something been going on of which I’ve been kept in ignorance? Or are you both having a bad bout of PMT?’

When Laura didn’t respond, even after he had thrown in the patronising query about PMT — he had thought it might unite the women and consequently defuse the moment — his suspicions were aroused. There was more going on here than he had imagined. ‘Laura, you haven’t gone behind Izzy’s back and tried to fix her up with Theo, have you? Not Theo. Not him of all men.’

Both Max and Izzy waited for Laura to deny the accusation.

But Laura didn’t.

Which was proof enough to confirm her guilt.

‘It’s not as bad as you’re making out,’ she said. Her words were directed at Max but her eyes were on Izzy. ‘Oh, come on, Izzy, we discussed it. We agreed it might be good for you. Just a bit of fun.’

‘No, Laura, you took the line that it would be good for me. And had I known that you and Theo were already in cahoots planning my seduction I would never have listened to a word you had to say about him.’

‘I thought it would give you a lift — you know, give you back some of your self-esteem.’

‘Oh, well, that makes perfect sense. I see it all now. There I’d be, thinking how wonderful it was that Theo was paying me so much attention and I’d have you to thank for my self-esteem being so high it was in need of oxygen.’ Her voice was tight with cynicism.

To his dismay, Max knew it was down to him to bring about a truce. He did it almost every day at work, bringing headstrong and opposing views to meet half-way to find a compromise, but caught between the woman he loved, who had obviously meddled too far, and a close friend who was giving out more distress signals than a sinking ship, he knew which of the two options he’d rather deal with. Emotions were best left to experts. ‘I’m sure you meant well, Laura,’ he said tactfully, ‘but I really do think you should apologise to Izzy.’

All three sat in silence for some moments. Until, at last, Laura offered Izzy a hesitant, conciliatory smile. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘truly I am. You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. Am I forgiven?’

Max turned to Izzy, willing her to accept the olive branch. And to add a note of reviving humour to the mood round the table, he said, ‘Come on, Izzy, I know Laura was way off the mark with what she did, but let’s face it, only a fool would take a man like Theo seriously.’ As soon as the words were out, he realised it was the worst thing he could have said. He received a kick under the table from Laura and a look from Izzy of mingled fury and pain. Appalled at his clumsiness, he wished now that he’d not got involved.

Izzy could see his discomfort and knew that all she had to do to make everything right was swallow her pride and laugh the matter off. But she couldn’t. She was too choked with anger — which was made all the worse by knowing that she had been in danger of taking Theo seriously. Of
wanting
to take him seriously.

Not trusting herself to speak, she stood up and left Laura and Max to finish breakfast on their own.

‘Should I go after her and apologise?’ she heard Max say, as she headed for the beach.

‘No,’ said Laura. ‘Between us, I think we’ve both said and done enough. Let’s give her space to cool off.’

By the time Izzy had stomped part-way down the steep hillside in the baking sun and had lingered awhile to take in the fragrant scent of pine on the air, her fury had begun to subside. She suspected that in such beautiful surroundings it would be difficult for anyone to maintain a bad mood for long. It was probably what made the Corfiots as warm and gregarious as they were. Life was too good to harbour a grudge for more than a couple of minutes. She pressed on down the path and along the beach, towards the rocky outcrop she had tried earlier to draw. She knew that, as a guest in somebody else’s house, she was behaving atrociously. She also knew that she was far more angry with herself than she was with Max and Laura.

‘Well, there’s no bigger fool than Izzy Jordan,’ she muttered. She threw herself on the hot white stones and sighed. Then did a double-take.

She wasn’t alone. A man was sitting on one of the rocks a few yards from her. She had seen him here before, had noticed him from her balcony when she had been painting the bay. He was sideways on to her, and though she couldn’t make out all of his face, she could see that his attention was held by a fishing-boat rising and falling on the swell of the incoming tide. He was very still, and had an absorbed, faraway look. He didn’t look relaxed, though: his lean, rangy frame was taut, his back and shoulders slightly rounded, as if he were ready for flight, should the need arise. Suddenly she longed to have her sketchpad to hand. He had an interesting face, what she could see of it, with a side profile that was pale, angular, and caught in a frown of concentration. She could only see his left eye, but she liked the way it was narrowed against the sun, and the starburst of lines that creased his skin. He was clean-shaven, with fair hair long enough to be messed up by the warm sea breeze. Every now and then he pushed it out of his face with long fingers. The sleeves of his T-shirt, one slightly ripped under the armpit, flapped loosely in the wind and accentuated the thinness of his arms. Unlike Theo, he didn’t look like a man who gave much thought to his appearance. She wondered who he was and which villa he was staying at. Was it possible that he was Theo’s writer friend, Mark St James? He was about the right age.