The Longest Holiday (15 page)

I swing my legs around and lie sideways on my chair, resting my head on the armrest and staring up at the sky. A few wisps of cloud drift over our heads.

After a while Leo gets up, muttering something about food. I study his departing back as he wanders across the garden and into the house. I hear the ping of a microwave a few minutes later.

‘Where’s the dog?’ I ask curiously when he returns with a bowl of heated-up leftovers.

‘Eric’s taken him to work.’

‘Eric’s gone to work?’ I ask with surprise. ‘What does he do?’

‘He’s working on some boats in Summerland Key today.’ That’s the next key up. ‘He keeps them clean, that sort of stuff. Javier’s helping him.’

‘Oh. That’s nice.’

I watch as he tucks in. He glances up at me and I realise I’m staring.

‘Do they get on well?’ I ask hurriedly.

‘Pretty well,’ he replies between munches.

‘Sorry, I should let you eat.’

I follow the clouds with my eyes as they pass overhead and idly kick my legs until my flip-flops begin to feel loose. I kick them off completely.

‘Did you speak to your husband?’

Leo’s question takes me by surprise. I glance across at him. He’s still eating, his eyes on his food.

‘Yes.’

He nods but doesn’t look at me, so I turn my head back up to the sky. ‘He wasn’t very happy.’

Nothing, and then, ‘Hmm …’

I look over at him again. ‘Serves the wanker right, though, eh?’

He takes one more mouthful and then puts his bowl on the ground beside him. ‘Hey, do you want to come to the beach with me?’ I ask impulsively.

‘When?’

‘Now?’

‘Um …’

‘Have you got something better to do?’ I say quickly, because I can see him wavering.

He shrugs. He does this a lot. ‘I guess not.’

‘Cool!’ I sit up and beam at him.

He scratches his chin. ‘Which one are you going to?’

‘Higgs Beach?’ That seems to be the main one here and I don’t know any others.

‘Nope.’ He shakes his head abruptly. ‘Go get your things.’ He nods towards the house.

What does that mean? Is he taking me somewhere else? I don’t care as long as he’s coming with me. Yay!

‘Get a couple of beach towels from the cupboard,’ Leo calls up the stairs.

‘Okay!’ I call back down, doing as he says. The cupboard smells of years gone by – slightly musty, but not unpleasant. It’s full of linen, but there are beach towels untidily stacked up so I take two before hurrying back to my room to change into my bikini.

Leo is leaning against the wall at the bottom of the stairs.

‘Ready?’ I ask with a smile. He picks up a set of car keys from the table next to him, before pushing off the wall and languidly walking to the door. His car is parked on the street outside the house. The smell of leather is still present, and there’s sand in the footwells. I imagine he’s had it for years. He reaches across to the glove box and opens it so it falls onto my knees. Pulling out some black sunglasses he pops them on and shuts the glove box again, his fingers brushing against me as he does so. I’m still tense from his touch even after he’s started the ignition and driven away from the curb. The car is a manual and I keep glancing down at his hands and the dark hair on his arms as he changes gears. Luckily I’m wearing sunnies myself so it’s easier to spy, but after a while I force myself to stare out of the window before he notices me watching.

Whichever beach we’re going to, the approach to it does not make it seem massively appealing. We drive past the docks and Leo points out an enormous – absolutely mahoosive – cruise ship. I can’t believe that something so big can come so close to the keys without becoming grounded.

‘It’ll be in Miami in a couple of days,’ he tells me. ‘I’ve seen it go from here to there.’

‘When are you going back to Miami?’ I ask, trying to keep the fear from my voice. What the hell will I do when that happens?

‘Not until the end of the season.’

‘Which is when?’

‘A couple of months,’ he replies casually. ‘I tend to do a swap with the boat captain in the summer while he goes back to the West Coast to see his mother.’

We park in a medium-sized car park under the shade of tall pine trees. Through the small wood I can see the sandy beach and then the ocean. We walk through the wooded picnic area, my flip-flops slippery on the pine needles beneath my feet, until we come out the other side into the hot sun. The sand is cream-coloured, the water calm and bluey-green. There are a few rocks by the waterline and some sea grass washed up on the shore. It’s not picture-postcard perfect, but it’s not rammed full of people, either.

We lay out our towels and sit down. Leo loops his arms around his knees. He’s wearing a short-sleeved Hawaiian shirt today, unbuttoned at the top. He looks cool, as far from cheesy as you could get. I peel off my beach dress, locate the sunscreen I remembered to pick up at the convenience store earlier, and start to apply it to my arms.

‘Want some?’ I ask him, offering it.

‘Don’t need it,’ he says, and I take in his deeply tanned forearms.

‘Really? Don’t you ever burn?’

‘Nope.’

‘You’re lucky.’ I start on my stomach.

‘You want me to do your back?’ he asks with a sideways glance.

‘That’d be great.’ I turn away from him, glad that he can’t see my face. I think about unclasping my bikini strap so he can apply it properly, but I chicken out. His hands are warm as they smooth cream over my back and under my straps, but he’s finished all too quickly.

‘Thanks.’ I lie down and a little sigh escapes me. I watch him furtively from underneath my dark glasses. He stays sitting upright for a moment before unbuttoning his shirt. God, give me strength. He takes off his shirt, giving me a perfect view of his broad, muscled back, and then he lies down. I can see from here that his stomach is taut and toned. It’s all I can do not to sit up and congratulate him on his really quite awesome body. I can’t relax for the life of me, lying there next to him in the hot sun, both of us barely dressed. I won’t last long before I need to take a swim to cool down, that’s for sure. In fact, that’s a really good idea.

I sit upright, wracked full of tension. ‘I think I’m going to go for a swim.’

‘Already?’ he asks, lifting his head to look at me. ‘You’ve only just got here.’

‘I’m not very good with the heat.’ I glance at his chest.

He props himself up on his elbows. ‘I’ll come with you if you wait a bit.’

Well, now, that’s an offer … I turn around and lie on my front so I can face him. There’s no way I can remain here in silence. I’ll go crazy.

‘Do you come here a lot?’ I ask, resting on my forearms.

‘Not that much anymore. I used to come when I was a kid.’

‘With your parents?’

‘Mostly just my mum and brother.’

I frown. ‘What happened to your dad?’

‘You ask a lot of questions.’

I can’t tell if he’s annoyed with me. ‘I don’t mean to pry.’

‘It’s okay.’ He smiles. ‘My father died when I was eight. Heart attack.’

My face falls. ‘I’m sorry.’ He was so young.

He looks up at the sky, contemplatively. ‘I didn’t see him much. I felt guilty for not missing him more after he was gone.’

‘Were your parents divorced?’

‘No.’ He lets out a little laugh and takes off his sunglasses. ‘No, no. They weren’t even married.’

‘Really?’

‘My mother was his mistress,’ he tells me and I can’t hide my shock. ‘He was a cigar manufacturer in Cuba. He had a wife, four children – two boys, two girls.’

‘You have half-siblings?’ I ask with surprise.

‘They don’t know that I exist.’

I instinctively put my sunglasses on top of my head. ‘Are you sure? How can you be sure?’

‘I’m sure.’ He meets my eyes for a long moment and my heart starts to flutter. I’ll be the one having a heart attack if he keeps this up. My most vital organ has been through quite a rigmarole recently. I shake my head slightly, trying to keep track of the conversation so we don’t go off it.

‘So … How did they meet? Your mother and father.’

He breaks eye contact to look out at the ocean. ‘He met her at a market, here in Key West. She sold fruit. He used to come here for business. Illegal business,’ he reveals cautiously, but I withhold any reaction, so he continues. ‘I know that he loved her. I still remember the way she made him smile. But he had a family. It wasn’t the done thing. He bought her the house. He would come to visit us when he could. But we were his secret. When he died we didn’t go to his funeral.’

I’m aghast. ‘But that’s awful. You couldn’t even say goodbye?’

‘I was used to saying goodbye to him. Every time he left to go back to his other family.’ He pauses for a moment. ‘But I was very close to my mother.’

‘How did she die?’ I ask gently.

He swallows, and I’m worried I’ve pushed him too far, but he says a single word. ‘Suicide.’

I gasp. I can’t help it.

‘She suffered with depression,’ he reveals in an even voice. ‘Sometimes she would shut herself off for months, even a year. It was all I could do to keep her alive.’

‘Oh Leo, I’m so sorry.’ It seems like she tried to take her own life more than once.

‘I wasn’t there when she did it …’

His mind is far away as he remembers. I realise I’m holding my breath.

‘Where were you?’ My voice comes out sounding choked.

‘Miami. With Alejandro.’ He shakes his head. ‘He was in a bad place. He left home when he was sixteen – I was twelve – and got in with a bad crowd in Miami. He met Carmen when he was nineteen. She was good for him – two years older. She helped him to get off the drugs … for a while. But she fell pregnant almost immediately. They got married before the baby came.’ He smiles sadly. ‘I still remember how happy my mother was when she held Javier for the first time.’ He sighs. ‘They should have moved back to Key West, then. My mother begged them to. Maybe if they had, things would have been different … I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know,’ I agree. I think back over our conversation.

‘Anyway,’ Leo continues, and I remember we were talking about where he was when his mother died. ‘Carmen called me for help – Alejandro hadn’t been seen for two days – so I went to get him back.’

‘Back from where?’

‘His shithouse friends. Drug dealers,’ he spits. ‘But when I got home, it was too late.’

‘You found her?’ My voice is scarcely more than a whisper.

He nods slightly.

‘Oh Leo,’ I say again as I imagine him returning home to that scene, whatever scene it was. ‘How did she …’ My voice trails off.

‘She slit her wrists in the bathtub.’ He says it in such a detached fashion, but his words have an overwhelming effect on me.

‘Oh, God!’ I try to stifle a sob, but I can’t. To my horror, I start to cry. I get up onto my knees and try to control myself.

‘Hey,’ he chastises gently, sitting upright and leaning over to rub my shoulder. ‘Don’t cry.’

‘I’m sorry!’ I gasp, but I can’t stop. At least the beach is pretty much deserted.

‘Don’t cry,’ he says softly once more, but his sympathy sets me off in the opposite direction.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ And then, before I even have time to think about what I’m doing, I lean towards him and hug him tightly, pressing my face into his neck. A good few seconds pass before he hugs me back.

‘Shh,’ he says into my hair as he strokes it soothingly.

I’ve so wanted to have him hold me. It’s an urge I’ve been trying to control ever since I met him – it’s like a drug. I thought I’d forget about everything else, if only I were in his arms. Then all of a sudden I feel ashamed that he’s the one comforting me. My tears come to an abrupt stop. I pull away and brush them off, too embarrassed to look him in the eye.

‘I don’t know what came over me,’ I mutter. He wraps his arms around his knees and I can feel his eyes on me as I dig around in my bag for a tissue. Always have them handy, thankfully.

‘You’ve been through a lot,’ he says evenly.

‘Not as much as you.’ I blow my nose loudly, not caring how I must look. ‘I’ll never feel sorry for myself again.’

He shakes his head, then he lightly punches my arm. ‘Time for a swim?’

‘Sure.’ I get to my feet and then impulsively start to run across the sand. ‘Race ya!’ I call over my shoulder, which is a big mistake because he catches me quickly, and then shocks the life out of me by scooping me up in his arms. I scream as he storms into the ocean and drops me in the water.

‘You bastard!’ I squeal when I come up for air, my hair absolutely drenched. I splash him and he dives under the barely existent waves. He re-emerges and flicks his head back so his black hair falls off his face. I sink below the water so it comes up to my neck – hell, I need to cool off – while he eyes me with a teasing grin.

I push away from the sand with my feet and swim into deeper water. He follows me, doing a slow front crawl, and then turns so he’s lying on his back, floating in the water. I purse my lips and push down on his stomach so he gasps and has to stand up before he sinks. I laugh and duck away from him before he can splash me.

‘That was fun,’ I say later when we’re back in the car. ‘Well, I mean—’ Obviously not the pouring-out-your-heart-about-your-mother’s-suicide bit, but the other stuff.

‘It was,’ he interrupts, thankfully before I can say the sentence out loud.

We cross over Duval Street, which is already packed full of revellers.

‘What’s the time?’ I ask with a frown.

‘Don’t know,’ he replies with a shrug. No, I don’t imagine he’s the type to ever wear a watch, and I didn’t bring my mobile, so …

I sigh. ‘I’d better call my mum when we get back.’

He doesn’t comment.

When I’m showered and sand-free and dressed again in Sunday’s going-home outfit of jeans and a T-shirt, I turn on my phone to check for urgent messages. I’ve been keeping it switched off until I get my charger back tomorrow. It buzzes to alert me to one message, then it buzzes again. And again. I sigh and listen to my voicemail. The first one is from my mum.

‘You need to call me, right now, darling.’ She’s using her firmest tone. ‘One text message is not going to cut it. Laura? Do you hear me? Ring me.’