The Truth About You (30 page)

‘If you don’t we’ll just sneak out anyway,’ Tierney had warned, before she’d even had a chance to object.

‘You’re not old enough to get in,’ Lainey had pointed out.

‘Yes we are, and anyway no one checks IDs here and we both look eighteen, so there won’t be a problem.’

Since it was too hot to argue, Lainey had let it go; after all, she had to start allowing these freedoms at some point, and now seemed as good a time as any. Actually, her only real concern was Skye and how hyper she’d been at lunchtime, to a degree that Lainey had wondered if she’d been drinking before coming to join them at the café.

Keeping her eyes closed and trying not to think of Tom as Max broke into ‘Take It Easy,’ one of Tom’s favourites, she half turned to Stacy as she said, ‘Tell me, what did you make of Skye earlier?’

Raising a lazy hand to shield her eyes, Stacy replied, ‘I guess embarrassing is the first word to come to mind. She didn’t seem to know who to flirt with first, Max, the new boys, Lorenzo or Marco.’

Lainey shuddered as she recalled it.

‘I guess we mustn’t forget her age,’ Stacy continued. ‘All those hormones, being in a new place, away from home . . .’

Prepared to accept that, since the music was drawing her deeper into memories of Tom and how easily aroused they’d always become in the sun, Lainey reached out for her mobile as it rang. Seeing who it was made her heart turn over. ‘It’s him,’ she said to Stacy, and clicked on before considering whether or not she wanted to speak to him.

‘Hi,’ he said, ‘is this a good time?’

Matching the evenness of his tone, she said, ‘As good as any. What can I do for you?’

‘Actually, I was just wondering how it was going over there. If you’re all settled in and finding your way around OK.’

‘We’re doing fine, thank you.’ And if they weren’t, what exactly did he propose to do about it? ‘Zav’s missing you.’

‘I’ve spoken to him a couple of times,’ he assured her, ‘I think he understands why I can’t be there. So what’s the place like?’

The words flew out before she could stop them. ‘I don’t understand why you’re interested. I mean, you could have been here to see it for yourself . . .’

‘Would you rather I rang off?’

Swinging her legs off the bed, she went to sit on the edge of the pool.

‘Are you still there?’ he asked.

‘Yes, I’m here,’ she replied.

He took a moment before saying, ‘So how are Tierney and Max? I still can’t get either of them to take my calls or answer my texts.’

‘Does that mean you still think I’m turning them against you?’

‘No, of course not. I’m sorry I said that, you didn’t deserve it.’

‘Actually, I don’t deserve any of this, but it’s still happening.’

She could almost see his face, the tautness of his mouth, the vein that stood out on his temple when he was trying to stay calm.

‘Are you going to tell me anything about what’s happening over there,’ he asked, ‘or am I wasting my time?’

Since she really didn’t want him to ring off, she said, ‘Everything’s fine. The villa’s perfect, the view of the lake is stunning and the village isn’t the most charming I’ve ever seen, but it’s quaint.’

‘So, have you decided how to go about finding your family?’

Gazing out across the glittering miles of the lake to where the horizon was as smudged by heat as the whole vista was by time, she said, ‘Actually, I’ve already got someone willing to help out on that.’ The thought of Marco and embarking on her search with him, instead of Tom, was making her feel almost resentful. Except she’d have needed his help anyway, since Tom was no more familiar with Italian than she was. ‘He’s the owner of the villa we’re renting,’ she continued, ‘and his grandmother sort of remembers Melvina and Aldo.’ She felt an urge to tell him how good-looking Marco was, but knowing he’d see straight through the puerile effort to make him jealous she managed to stop herself.

‘And Alessandra? Does anyone remember her?’ he asked.

‘Not that I’ve come across so far. Marco’s grandmother says we should speak to people in the village – and on an island in the lake – because she’s sure we’ll find someone who knew my grandparents better than she did.’

‘So it doesn’t seem likely that they’re still there?’

‘No. Apparently there were rumours before they left, but I don’t know yet what they were.’

‘That sounds interesting.’

‘Or ominous.’

‘Indeed. Has there been mention of any other family members?’

‘None so far, but it’s still early days.’

He fell silent, and she felt herself on the brink of tears as she wondered what he was thinking, where he was while making this call. Somewhere out of Kirsten’s earshot, presumably. She watched a dragonfly, graceful and iridescent, skimming across the sparkling surface of the pool. He should be here, she was thinking,
he should be here.

‘Am I allowed to ask about Max and Tierney now?’ he asked carefully.

‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘They’re OK. You might be able to hear Max playing his guitar . . .’ She held up her phone and wondered if he could make out the familiar sound of ‘Fall at Your Feet’ by Crowded House. It was another favourite of Tom’s; in fact almost everything Max played, whether on his guitar or his iPod, had been influenced by his father.

‘Did you get that?’ she asked, bringing the phone back to her ear.

‘I did. He’s improving.’

‘He has an audience, so that’s probably helping.’

‘Oh?’

‘Only Tierney and Skye, and a couple of friends he made last night. Zav and Alfie got bored and went inside to watch a DVD.’

There was a smile in Tom’s voice as he said, ‘Seems I’ve still got some work to do on my younger son’s musical tastes. I’m surprised Tierney’s there. It’s not usually her sort of thing.’

‘No, but I think she’s quite keen on one of the new friends, Brett, so she’s prepared to suffer it. I’ve said she and Skye can go to the local disco tonight.’

‘Are they old enough?’

‘Apparently they’re not as strict here as they are at home, and it’s not as if we’re in Rome, or Florence. It’s all very local and not even particularly touristy, apart from down by the lake where there’s a campsite and said disco. Please don’t send her a text telling her what time to be back and to make sure she has her phone and doesn’t let her drink out of her sight. I’ll go through all that before she leaves, and Max will be there. You know how protective he is of her.’

‘I also know how irresponsible he can be, so no later than midnight, and no more than two alcoholic drinks.’

Unable to stop herself, she said, ‘If you want to lay down the rules you should be here. As you’re not, I’ll make the decisions.’

He didn’t argue, he simply said, ‘If you need any backup, just call.’

‘And what, leave a message? You never answer your phone.’

‘I do when I’m in range. If I’m not, texts usually manage to get through.’

‘So I’d best not count on you in an emergency?’

Sighing, he said, ‘I should probably go now.’

‘Yes, you probably should.’

‘I’ll call again tomorrow.’

‘Actually, I wish you wouldn’t. It’s hard enough being here without you; having you calling out of guilt or pity or whatever’s driving you . . .’

‘Is concern for my family not enough?’

‘It might be if it was genuine.’

‘You seriously think it isn’t?’

She knew it was, for the children. She stared hard at the water, fighting back tears.

‘If I could be there, I would,’ he told her.

‘Really?’ she responded, and unable to hold it together any longer she disconnected the call, put her phone down and slipped soundlessly into the pool.

TIERNEY HAD NEVER
been to a shop like this before in her life. She kind of knew they existed – there was one in Bristol, and she thought there was probably one in Cheltenham too, but no way had she even looked in the window, much less walked through the door. Here, in Italy, they seemed to be everywhere; they were even advertised on hoardings on the side of the road with graphic pictures, and, typical of Skye, she’d insisted they come in to find out exactly what kind of stuff they sold.

As if the window display with all its rubber toys and frilly knicks could have left them in any doubt.

The worst part of being in here was knowing that Max, Brett and Ricky were waiting outside in the car, finding it hilarious that they’d had the nerve to venture in. They had to know Skye was only doing it for a tease; once she had a drink in her she just couldn’t help herself, it seemed, but all this kinky paraphernalia and the explicit pictures on the walls were reminding Tierney too much of Guy.

He’d only sent her one of the photos he’d taken of her the night she was with him. Seeing herself like that had made her feel so sick with shame that she’d erased it straight away, without even mentioning it to Skye. She hadn’t answered it; in fact she’d hardly replied to any of his texts since being here, so why wasn’t he getting the message?

Now she was wondering if the photo had been some kind of threat – do as I say or these shots will go public.

Please, please, please
God don’t let that be true.

He hadn’t said that, so she had to put it out of her mind or she’d go mental with terror. She was just going to think about normal stuff now, such as Brett, who seemed really sweet and funny and into lots of the same things she was. He’d danced with her loads of times at the
discoteca
last night, and when Max – bloody Max – had made her go on to Coke, Brett had only done the same. How lovely was that?

‘What do you think?’ Skye asked, sauntering out of a fitting room to stand in front of a mirror.

Tierney’s jaw dropped. A beat later she was giggling. Luckily no one else was in the shop, apart from the girl who was on the till, and she hadn’t stopped jabbering on the phone the whole time they’d been there.

‘Shall I get it?’ Skye wondered, turning to get a glimpse of herself from behind.

‘Are you serious? When are you going to wear it?’

Skye regarded her incredulously. ‘Duh, it’s a swimsuit, so when do you think I’m going to wear it?’

Tierney shrugged. It didn’t look much like a swimsuit to her, or at least not one she would wear, the way it plunged right down to below Skye’s navel and barely covered her boobs. Starting to feel a bit claustrophobic, she said, ‘Come on, we should go.’

Skye looked annoyed. ‘We can’t without buying something,’ she protested. ‘I’m going to get this. So what are you going to get?’

‘Nothing. I don’t want anything.’

‘You have to buy something. Brett’s expecting you to.’

‘No, he isn’t, and anyway, what’s it got to do with him?’

‘You must have seen his face when we said we wanted to come in here. I’m telling you, he’s out there like practically gagging for it.’

‘Then he’ll just have to gag, because I’m not buying anything.’

Returning to the cubicle and leaving the curtain open as she changed back into her sundress, Skye said, ‘I don’t get what’s wrong with you lately. You’re always in a mood, and it’s not like you’ve got anything to be in a mood about. There’s Mr Grey practically . . .’

‘Don’t talk about him.’

‘Oh, excuse me for breathing. I thought he was your . . .’

‘He’s not normal,’ Tierney broke in waspishly. ‘In fact, he’s pervy. Maudie thinks so too.’

‘Oh, well, let’s all agree with Maudie the virgin, why don’t we?’ Skye scoffed. ‘That girl hasn’t got a clue what it’s like to be kissed, never mind shagged by a bloke. She’s just jealous, that’s her trouble. Jealous and a minger.’

Rushing to Maudie’s defence, Tierney said, ‘She’s
not
a minger, and the trouble with you, Skye, is everything’s always about sex, and actually there’s more to life.’

Skye’s eyebrows arched in amazement, but she said no more as Tierney turned away and walked outside into a wall of heat.

What she really wanted, more than anything, she realised, was to talk to her dad – not about any of this, she wouldn’t even want to talk to her mum about that. She just wanted her dad to be here, the way he always was on holidays, bossing them about, driving them mad, but making everything kind of special and fun.

She wondered if he was doing that with Julia and her mother now. Probably not, given that Julia’s mother was ill. He could have in the past though, lots of times, and they, his real family, had known nothing about it. It was so horrible to think of that she couldn’t allow herself to or she’d start crying or something, and Skye would think it was because they’d rowed and it had nothing to do with her.

She should have asked Maudie to come.

Or
Julia –
as if!

What was Julia like? Probably blonde and gorgeous and really popular with everyone. Tierney wondered if she’d had sex yet, or been into a sex shop, or even had a boyfriend.

Actually, she couldn’t care less about Julia, or anyone else come to that. She just wished everyone would go away and leave her alone, and never, ever mention the word sex again.

Lainey couldn’t help laughing at the way Marco was trying to extricate himself from the fifth or sixth friendly greeting he’d run into during their short walk from his car to the pier. Though she wasn’t at all surprised to find he was so well known, she was bewildered, as well as amused, by how extensive the greetings were. Surely a lot more was being said than a mere ‘Hi, how are you?’ or ‘Nice to see you.’ In fact, for how long each encounter took, with everyone seemingly oblivious to the blazing sun, she felt certain they must be exchanging a day-by-day account of the past month’s events.

‘As we say in England,’ she commented, when he finally parted from a jaunty middle-aged man who ran the campsite they’d just passed, ‘never use three words when fifty will do.’

Enjoying the humour, he said, ‘Italian people are very effusive by nature. We cannot help it, so if I talk too much today, you must tell me to stop.’

Knowing she’d never do such a thing, especially when he was being so kind, she cocked an eyebrow at the saucy billboard outside the
discoteca
(was it really a bare bottom? Perhaps it was a cleavage – it was difficult to tell) and strode on towards the jetty. It wasn’t a strip club, surely. She’d have words with Max tonight, because if he was taking Tierney to such a place and Tom were to find out . . . Actually, she’d deal with it herself, she didn’t need Tom’s backup.