The Longest Holiday (14 page)

I remain standing gawkily in the middle of the room. ‘Jorge said you haven’t been here much this weekend …’

‘How would Jorge know that?’ he asks calmly. ‘He’s been in Miami.’

I realise my mistake. ‘Sorry, I meant Carmen.’

‘Doesn’t she have anything better to do than talk about me when I’m not here?’ It’s a rhetorical question, so he doesn’t wait for me to answer. ‘Apparently not,’ he adds for good measure.

I’m guessing he’d react badly if I told him they were also talking about his mother, so naturally I keep that quiet.

‘Did you sleep well?’ he asks me, pushing off from the counter and nodding in the direction of the living room. I lead the way through.

‘Not too bad, considering.’ Considering my husband now has a baby son who isn’t mine … Considering Leo appeared at my doorway in the middle of the night … I don’t say either of these things out loud. ‘How about you?’

‘Not too bad, considering …’

I glance back at him. ‘Considering what?’ I can’t help asking.

‘Considering the elephant crashing around in my kitchen.’ He says it lightly, and I raise one eyebrow at him.

‘Are you calling me an elephant?’ I ask drily.

‘I had no idea someone so small could make so much noise,’ he teases as we sit down. ‘How on earth my nephew is sleeping through that …’

I smile. ‘Did you see him last night when you came back?’ I’m still curious to know what time that was.

‘No.’ He shakes his head. ‘He was already in bed.’

‘How did you know …’ that I was here? I finish the sentence inside my head.

‘Jorge left me a note,’ he replies, studying his fingernails.

I really want to know what that note said. Does he know what happened at the airport? Curiosity gets the better of me.

‘What did it say?’ I ask cautiously.

He delves into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper, handing it over.

Laura is here. In your mother’s bedroom. Will explain tomorrow.

So he knows nothing. I look up at him with surprise. ‘You don’t even know I bumped into him and Javier at the airport?’

He looks surprised. ‘Did you?’

‘I had just spoken to Matthew. My husband,’ I add, although I can see in his eyes that he’d already guessed as much. ‘She’s had the baby. The girl … It’s a boy.’ Leo looks shocked. He rubs his hand over his mouth. ‘I couldn’t go home,’ I say, shaking my head quickly. I so want him to understand, to support me. But I’m not sure what’s going through his head. ‘I hope you don’t mind me being here. I’ll go back to the hotel if it bothers you.’

He looks up sharply. ‘Why should it bother me?’

‘I don’t know. I …’ I want to say that he doesn’t seem very pleased to see me, but that isn’t fair. Plus it sounds desperate, and I don’t want to come across like that to him. ‘Do you mind me staying in your mother’s room?’ I ask tentatively.

‘No.’ His reply is short. ‘It hasn’t been used for years. It’s a big house. You can stay as long as you like,’ he tells me, repeating Jorge’s words from yesterday.

‘Thank you,’ I say quietly. I finish my coffee and rub at my nose to try to stop it from prickling before looking at the coffee table. I can’t bear it. I get up and walk determinedly through to the kitchen, bringing a sponge and some washing-up liquid back through with me. I couldn’t see any proper cleaning products in the cupboard under the sink, so I add them to my mental shopping list.

‘What are you doing?’ Leo asks with a frown when I return.

‘Cleaning the coffee table,’ I reply as I set to work.

‘Laura, you don’t have to clean for us,’ he mutters.

‘I want to,’ I say firmly as I rub vigorously at a particularly tough stain and try to ignore the way him saying my name makes my pulse quicken. ‘I need something to occupy myself.’

He tuts and sighs, but he realises he can’t stop me. I go through to the kitchen and rinse out the sponge, grabbing a tea towel to polish the glass.

‘There.’ I look at my handiwork. ‘Much better.’

He places his coffee cup down on the table.

‘No, no,’ I chastise. ‘Where are your coasters?’

‘We haven’t got any goddamn coasters, woman!’ he snaps, but I think it’s good-naturedly.

Grinning, I lift up his cup and wipe the coffee ring, then I take the empties back through to the kitchen and wash them up. He comes in after me, snatches the tea towel and dries them. I watch with amusement as he puts them away.

‘Happy now?’ he asks with a raised eyebrow.

‘Happier,’ I correct. ‘Do you have a bath towel I could borrow? I promise I’ll buy myself one today.’

‘We have plenty,’ he says, waving me away, then he sets off up the stairs. I follow him. There’s a cupboard under the second smaller staircase and he opens it and gets out a towel, passing it to me.

‘Thanks.’ I turn and walk towards the bathroom. Glancing back, I find him still standing in the same place. ‘Where’s your bedroom?’ I ask in what I hope is a casual voice.

‘Upstairs,’ he says. I hesitantly halt in my footsteps and face him down the corridor. ‘If you plan to do anymore cleaning, I would start on … your room.’ He puts emphasis on your, as though he corrected himself at the last moment.

‘Okay,’ I say, pausing at the door to the bathroom. ‘See you in a bit.’

He nods and turns away, his footsteps pounding the stairs matching the pounding of my heart.

I probably need a cold shower, but the water is blissfully hot. I borrow some shampoo and conditioner and then get dressed into yesterday’s clothes. Cleaning Leo’s mother’s room can wait. At the very least I need to call the airport and buy some new underwear. I head back into my room and pick up my phone from the dresser. I’m nervous as I switch it back on. It’s now getting on for eleven o’clock in the morning, which means … Oh no, it means I should have arrived in London hours ago.

Buzz, buzz, buzz … The sound of all my messages coming in is deeply distracting. I so want to call the airport first, but I know I won’t be able to concentrate until I’ve dealt with things at home. Just as well I made that decision naturally, because suddenly my phone starts to ring and one look at the caller ID tells me it’s Matthew.

‘Hi,’ I say upon answering.

‘Laura? What the hell are you doing?’ Matthew screeches down the line with what sounds like barely contained fury. ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you for hours!’ he adds. He really does sound quite pissed off, I muse mildly.

‘I’ve only just switched my phone back on,’ I tell him.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ he repeats his earlier question – clearly this is the thing that’s playing most on his mind.

‘Did Marty not tell you?’

‘Bridget told me more. Who the fuck is Leo?’ As he spits out the words in this last sentence, I can tell he’s absolutely beside himself. He’s probably tearing his own hair out.

‘What has Bridget been saying?’ I ask carefully.

‘Why don’t you tell me your version of events?’

‘Well, as you know I’m not coming home.’ I don’t know how I say this so calmly, but I do.

‘Not now? Not ever?’ His voice is immeasurably strained.

‘Not … now,’ I confirm. ‘I’m staying with some friends.’

‘Who is Leo?’

‘Leo is just a friend,’ I tell him. ‘So is Jorge. They’re helping me out.’

‘Laura, come home!’ he begs. ‘I should be the one helping you!’

‘Oh, you’re not helping me, Matthew,’ I say quietly. ‘You’re not helping me at all.’

‘Laura, please … It was a mistake—’

‘I don’t want to hear you say it again.’ My volume turns up a notch. ‘Shut up. Shut the hell up. Do you hear me?’

He hesitates; taken aback, I think. ‘Yes.’

‘I cannot deal with what is happening at home right now. Do you understand, Matthew?’ I don’t wait for him to reply. ‘Do you get it? What you have done is unforgivable—’

‘Don’t say that,’ he interjects.

‘I do not know how we can ever get past this,’ I say strongly.

‘So, what, you’re just going to jump in the sack with some other bloke, instead? Or have you already done that?’ He sounds so bitter. I actually laugh.

‘I’m not you, Matthew. But what I do from here on in is really none of your business.’

Then I hang up on him. And boy does it feel good.

Something happens to me as I walk down the streets past the beautiful old colonial houses with their intricate gingerbread carvings and gardens full of tropical flowers. My spirits begin to lift. The sun shines down from the light blue sky and I can smell the ocean. I breathe in deeply and feel free, as free as I did underwater that first time I did an Open Water dive. I really do want to go diving again. Nothing is stopping me, here. Okay, so I should try to do work of some sort. And I definitely need to call Becky. I promise myself I’ll ring her and my parents as soon as I get back home. Home? I snort with laughter. Well, it sort of is, for now.

I buy some underwear, a beach dress and, to hell with it, even a new bikini, a red one this time. I might go to the beach today. Why not, right? I head to a convenience store and stock up on cleaning products and equipment. I also buy some fruit, cereal and a few bits and pieces. I don’t want to be a freeloader. As soon as I feel comfortable enough to ask Carmen, I’ll offer to cook, too. I think of Eric lazily slumming it on the sofa and feel momentarily sorry for her, going out to work and then coming home to cook for everyone. I wonder if anyone else helps her out. No wonder she doesn’t much fancy cleaning.

When I get back to the house, there’s no sign of anyone, but the door is open.

I get out my phone with the intention of calling Becky and my parents, but as my battery is getting low, I decide to text them instead. A bit of a cop-out, but I promise them I’ll call when I get my charger from my suitcase. I rang the airport earlier and they told me they can deliver my bag tomorrow. Apart from the odd text, I haven’t been in touch with my parents in two weeks. They weren’t convinced it was a good idea for me to go away with Marty – they’ve never considered her to be a particularly good influence, even before she didn’t come home from Ibiza. She was always my quirky, cool, but slightly dodgy, smoking-behind-the-bike-sheds, dyeing-her-hair-every-colour-of-the-rainbow best friend. Poor Marty. They’ll probably blame this on her, too, but I’ll explain soon enough.

Putting my phone to one side, I unpack the shopping and get on with the cleaning. I mop the kitchen floor first, tidy away the breakfast things left by Javier and Eric, and then tackle the living room. Apart from the dust, grime and dirt, it’s not too bad. At least it’s not stacked high with dirty dishes, like the kitchen was. Once that’s done, I go upstairs to the bathroom and clean it until the taps shine and the enamel glints, and then I finally make a start on my bedroom. The dust is so thick it becomes ingrained in the sponge, so I have to replace it with a new one after a while. I clean the mirror and the window – and even though it’s still pretty dirty on the outside, it makes a big difference; I polish the wooden chests of drawers, dresser and bedhead; I sweep and mop the floor. And then I open the window. The warm air flows in and I sigh with contentment and lean my elbows on the windowsill. The garden is still a tip, I think, as I look down at it. I wonder how much work it would take to get that tidied up. This would be such a beautiful house if only someone cared enough to put in the effort. I’ve never been much of a gardener, but I’m sure I can clear the junk and cut the grass. Perhaps I’ll tackle it sometime, but not before I head to the beach. I’m in for a bit of a walk, which won’t be much fun in the afternoon heat, but it’ll be worth it in the end.

I step outside my bedroom door and listen. Nothing. I put away the cleaning products and equipment in the laundry room I have finally managed to locate, then I empty the bins and take the rubbish out to the trash cans on the street. I dust off my hands and turn to go back inside, but my eyes shoot up to the eaves of the house. Leo is leaning out of the window of the loft room, his tanned elbows resting on the sill. I smile and wave up at him. He looks vaguely entertained as he lifts his fingers in a lazy wave back at me.

‘You want a coffee? I’m going to pop to the coffee shop,’ I say on a whim. I wasn’t planning on going there at all, but if it makes him come down and chat to me … He shrugs and then nods. ‘Cool. Back in a bit.’

I smile to myself as I return inside and locate my purse. I’m back within ten minutes and by then Leo has decamped to the sofa in the garden.

‘What do you do if it rains?’ I ask with a furrowed brow as I kick the gate shut behind me.

‘Move them to the porch, if we can be bothered.’ He jerks his head to the side. There’s a small covered porch, adorned with classic gingerbread. The white paint is flaking after years of neglect, and there’s no first-floor balcony, but I imagine with a quirky colour-coordinated paint scheme, it could look lovely.

‘Have you ever thought about turning this place into a guest house?’ I hand him his paper cup and sit down in one of the armchairs.

He snorts. ‘Do you think I look like someone who mingles well with tourists?’

‘You mingled well enough with me.’

He regards me through half-closed eyes for a long moment and I will myself not to blush. ‘You’re different.’

‘You worked as a conch train tour guide,’ I point out, trying not to stare at his bare leg, now up on a rock that’s doubling as a footrest. He’s changed into shorts and a shirt, and his hair is still damp from the shower. Concentrate!

‘That was different,’ he tells me, changing tack.

‘Why was it different? You could make a lot of money running a guest house here.’

‘You’re forgetting my sister-in-law.’

I take a sip of my coffee. ‘I could never forget her,’ I say innocently.

He raises his eyebrows at me.

‘Anyway, wouldn’t she get in on it? She could cook that pollo rice dish as her speciality and make a killing.’

‘Arroz con pollo?’ he asks with amusement. ‘Has she been trying to impress you?’

‘Me?’ I scoff. ‘You’ve got to be kidding. She made it for Javier, of course.’

‘Aah.’ He blows at the top of his coffee.

‘Yeah. She saved you some.’

He nods and sips his drink. I notice he’s shaved.