Waves of Betrayal (The Isabel Marsh Trilogy Book 1) (18 page)

‘Isabel,’ he says, trying to hide his pleasure in seeing her, ‘I hoped I might see you here today!’ he adds, removing his shades and holding the door open for her. ‘It looks like you’re going to be busy this evening,’ he laughs, looking down at the bulging bag of books.

‘Just a bit,’ she smiles, blushing as she remembers how he caught her snooping in his bedroom the night before. ‘I’m looking forward to it though. Very different environment compared to a comprehensive school in back in the UK! Anyway, let’s just say I’m not expecting any discipline problems.’

‘Do you want a lift home?’ he asks, reaching over to take her bags from her.

‘No, no, honestly, there’s no need, thank you. There’s a bus in ten minutes, just across the road. I’ll be fine. You carry on,’ she smiles, ‘you’ve only just got here!’

‘Ok, if you’re sure? If I don’t see you before, I’ll pick you up at half past five tomorrow evening?’

‘Great. Look forward to it,’ she hesitates, biting her tongue. She couldn’t believe it when Marcos told her of his plan to invite both her and Leanne over for dinner. It’s not going to work; why can’t he see that? Leanne is a nutter... and a cheating one at that! She has no desire to be friends with her. The whole evening has the word “disaster” written all over it. Still, she thinks, as she waves goodbye and crosses the road, she vows to be perfectly civil. She just hopes that she doesn’t get drunk and ends up swinging Leanne around the garden by her perfect blonde tresses. ‘What’s got into me??’ she laughs to herself as the bus approaches.

After three full hours of reading through course material and selecting some simple worksheets and role plays to photocopy for the following day, Isabel feels prepared enough to take a break. She takes herself up onto the roof terrace with a large black coffee and her mobile. Kicking off her shoes and settling herself on a chair in the shade, with her legs stretched out on a little table in front of her, she dials Rachel’s number. She needs advice!

‘Iz!! How’s it going? I only saw you yesterday morning, you missing me already?’ teases Rachel, sounding full of energy as usual.

‘Hey, Rach’ Isabel laughs, ‘a lot can happen in a day and a half! Can you talk?’

‘Yes, the shop’s dead this morning so... tell me?! What’s going on?’ she asks. Isabel can imagine her friend settling herself on the stool behind the counter, twisting her earring between her fingers in anticipation.

‘Oh Rach, he’s just so nice. The perfect gentleman. What the hell is he doing with that girl? He called yesterday after you’d gone. My parents had asked him to keep an eye on me apparently... not that I mind!’ she laughs, ‘but he invited me to his house and it’s just... oh Rach, it’s just beautiful. Smaller, but more beautiful than his parents’ house. We had Chardonnay and talked and...’

‘and...??’ interrupts Rachel eagerly, gripping her mobile.

‘She phoned! The Bitch from Hell. She’s turned all cute and innocent and was full of apologies apparently. Rach... he’s invited us both to dinner at his place, tomorrow night. He’s convinced we’re going to be best friends!’

‘What...?
No!
’ Rachel whispers.

Isabel imagines that someone must have come into the shop.

‘I’ve agreed, of course, what else could I have said? Especially as he caught me in his bedroom!!’ she laughs.

‘You
what...
? The plot thickens!’

‘No, nothing like that. I wanted to make myself scarce whilst he was talking to
her,
so I went inside to find the bathroom. Just so happens that I stumbled into his bedroom instead. I was only checking out his wardrobe, that’s all.’

‘Iz!!!!’ Rachel hisses, sounding amused.

‘Anyway, it’s all very masculine, no sign of His and Hers bathrobes or anything,’ she laughs out loud, reaching over for her mug of coffee.

‘Have you been drinking?’ she asks, muffling a giggle.

‘No! I haven’t touched a drop. Must be nerves! I’ve got my first classes tomorrow and then the dinner from hell. It’s so hot here too, even in the shade, maybe I’m delirious?!’

‘Well, if it makes you feel better, it’s fifteen degrees and cloudy here. My tan is fading already! By the way... no one has seen or heard from Paul since we got back, it’s really strange. I know he’s a complete tosser but I do hope he hasn’t gone and done anything stupid. We all expected a visit, demanding details on your whereabouts but, nothing! Let’s hope he’s seen sense and moved on, eh...? To be honest Iz, it sounds like you’re doing a pretty good job of moving on yourself!’ Rachel whispers conspiratorially, turning her back on a customer browsing the rack of half-price designer t-shirts.

‘Oh Rach,’ Isabel sighs, standing up and leaning on the wall of the terrace to watch the people passing by, ‘I think I’ve loved him all these years. I know it sounds cheesy as hell but it’s like torture, knowing that he’s a ten-minute drive away from me, but I can’t have him. He’s
engaged
Rach... to a cheating bitch, but still, engaged. I was just too late,’ she says miserably, staring down and scratching the flaky paint from the wall with her thumb nail.

‘Oh Iz, I just knew there was something more between the two of you,’ she says quietly, turning to wave a polite goodbye as the customer leaves the shop, ‘but what if he were to find out about her affair?’

‘You mean
tell
him?!’ asks Isabel, flopping herself back onto the chair behind her.

‘Well, think about it... why not?’ insists Rachel, louder now, walking from behind her desk. ‘Are you going to wait until after the ceremony and let him find out for himself? You’d be doing him a favour Iz.’

‘I just can’t. Besides, it could have been a relative or something. We can’t just go around making wild accusations and splitting up perfectly happy couples, only because we think that he would be better off with
me
!’ she says, leaning forward and taking a gulp of tepid coffee.

‘A relative?? Isabel, how naive
are
you? We saw them snogging in the beach bar, lying on a bed together. He was stroking her thigh! Then holding hands over the table in the café. If it is a relative, I’d be very worried Iz!!’

‘Ok, ok, I know. Let’s just see how tomorrow night goes first.’

‘She’ll be sweetness and light and you know it! She’s going to play right into his hands and, before you know it, she’ll even be asking you to be her Bridesmaid for god’s sake, like in that film... My Best Friend’s Wedding!’

‘Yeah, and if you remember Rach, the girl in question ends up losing her man through psychotic jealousy!’ she laughs, gulping the rest of her coffee.

‘Are you sure you’re not drinking?!’ asks Rachel, suspiciously.

‘Yes, coffee... I might have to pop out and get some brandy to go in it though,’ she sighs.

‘Nope, come on Iz, you need to be on the ball tomorrow. With any luck the Demon Bride will lose it again and show her true colours without any intervention from us,’ she sniggers.

‘Rach, we are
not
going to intervene. Let’s leave it to fate shall we?! Now look, I’ve got to go and do some more planning if I’m to keep this job. Marcos owns the school by the way!’

‘You what? Ha! Brilliant, so you’ll see more of him then. Excellent. We couldn’t have planned it better! Make sure you look good every day!’ says Rachel, tidying a full rail of vintage dresses, with her phone tucked under her chin.

‘You’re so funny Rach, but I really am glad that I told you. I’ll let you know how it goes tomorrow, ok? Now go and do some work for a change. Bye for now.’

Isabel sleeps badly that night, worrying that she will be totally out of her depth. Being English is one thing, but teaching it is quite another. She lies awake trying desperately to work out the grammatical rules for when to use “must” or “have to” and what about “much” and “many”? or “can, may, might”?? Her head spins and she really starts to question whether she really is qualified to take this job on. What if all of her students laugh at her?

She finally falls asleep at 2 a.m., only to be woken up again at 6 a.m. by her alarm. She
must
go over her lesson plans for the day. She practises in front of the mirror, pronouncing words as clearly as she can, introducing herself over and over again.

As she stands in front of her students, she smiles to herself and feels foolish for having worried so much. They are all lovely and aged between eighteen and forty-nine.

She smoothes down her skirt as she stands to write the new vocabulary on the board. The students open their folders eagerly, without being asked, and begin to record the words, in happy concentration. Some have better spoken English than others, but Isabel has paired them up so that they can support each other. She also makes sure to mix the nationalities to encourage them to communicate in English as often as possible in the classroom.

Amongst them are three Chinese girls, a Swiss businessman, four Russians in their mid-twenties, and four Spanish girls who work in hospitality.
There are seven women and five men, so the mix is good
, Isabel thinks, as she smiles confidently at them all. She hands out the sheets for the next activity.

The ice was broken in the first ten minutes of the lesson when Isabel asked them what they liked most about Málaga. One of the Russian boys, Dima, answered ‘the bitch’. They had spent five minutes pronouncing the word ‘
beach
’ and laughing together about other embarrassing pitfalls like ‘piece’ and ‘piss’ and, the one that amused them the most, ‘sheet’ and not ‘shit’! Isabel is so enjoying being able to be herself in the classroom and having students who actually want to learn, that she forgets all about the evening ahead.

She circulates, listening to the conversations between her students as they complete the “Find somebody who...” exercise. She had revised question forming in English and now watches proudly as they walk around the light, airy classroom, interviewing each other to find out who has more than two siblings, or if anyone doesn’t like chocolate, or whether any of them have a pet dog. She finds it rather cute and amusing in a way, listening to the simple questions being asked so seriously. There are ten questions to ask in total and, as they are taking the activity seriously and don’t cheat, as her pupils back at home would have done, the activity takes a lot longer than planned.

Following the revelations about each other, the group seems to have gelled and Isabel feels more like their friend than their teacher. She is surprised when the lesson comes to an end and she feels relaxed and confident, whilst her students leave the classroom in a chorus of “thank-yous” and “goodbyes”.

She files the day’s worksheets away in her folder and skips happily to the photocopier in the school’s office. Seeing that she over-planned massively for her first day, she is relieved to find that she will have more than enough resources for the next day or two. Her heart suddenly sinks though, when she thinks about the evening ahead of her, with Marcos and his fiancée.

‘Good first day at school?’ Isabel jumps as she hears a voice behind her.

‘Oh Marcos, you frightened me,’ she laughs, her hand on her chest.

‘Sorry,’ he says, smiling, taking in her linen knee length skirt and lace-trimmed t-shirt. ‘Every time I see you, you look different,’ he grins admiringly, his head on one side, as if amused. ‘First, the sexy pool girl, then the surf chick and now the teacher...’

‘Ahhhaaaa’ she giggles, gathering her photocopies from the tray next to her, ‘I am a master of disguise! Wait until you see my nun’s outfit for later. I plan to be on my very best behaviour,’ she vows, bowing seriously.

‘It’s not
you
I’m worried about,’ he sighs, ‘come on, I’ll give you a lift home,’ he insists, dangling his car keys from his finger.

‘Oh perfect. Thank you Marcos, that gives me more time to have a bath and iron my habit,’ she laughs, depositing her worksheets on the shelf for the following day.

As they drive through the busy city with the roof down, Isabel smiles, wondering why she had never really wanted to travel before. She holds her hair back from her face and rests her elbow out of the window. ‘I’ll bring a scarf next time,’ she giggles, enjoying the warm breeze on her face. She closes her eyes and breathes in the smells around her. Marcos’s aftershave, a hint of sun cream, the salty sea air, fried fish, and coffee. She tries to remember the distinct smells of Cartheston. Maybe it’s the cooler air that dulls the aromas she wonders, unable to immediately remember anything specific.
Cut grass and rain
, she grins triumphantly,
that’s it!
Everything here seems heightened somehow, not just the smells, but her senses and emotions. It must be the heat, she concludes.

Marcos glances over at Isabel’s smiling face.
She’s so beautiful
, he thinks.
So natural and honest, with an almost childlike vulnerability about her. I’m pretty sure that she has no idea just how beautiful she is
. He slows down at the traffic lights and pulls on the hand break, admiring her relaxed profile. ‘What were you thinking about?’ he asks, as Isabel opens her eyes, ‘you have a big smile on your face!’

‘Do I? I was just thinking how happy I am here. I’ve never really travelled before. I enjoyed today too. It’s so refreshing to just be “me” instead of Miss Marsh, the Teacher, Babysitter, Counsellor...’

‘You’re so beautiful Isabel,’ he interrupts suddenly, causing her to blush and instantly forget what she was talking about.

The traffic lights change, rescuing them from the impending awkward silence, and Marcos puts the car into gear.

‘Sorry,’ he says, focusing on the road ahead of him, ‘I shouldn’t have said that.’

‘I...’ she starts, shifting in her seat and twisting her hair into a bun with one hand.

‘No, you don’t have to say anything. It was inappropriate of me to say it,’ he says seriously, gripping the steering wheel with both hands. ‘You’ll still come this evening, won’t you?’ he asks nervously.

‘Of course. If you still want me to?’ she replies, giving him a shy smile.

‘Great,’ he says, nodding his head vigorously in relief, ‘the last thing I want to do is to offend you, Isabel.’

‘Believe me,’ she smiles sweetly, allowing to herself to meet his eyes, ‘I’m far from offended.’