A Summer Reunion Page 6

  ‘Come in. I’ll show you your room. You can change and I’ll have a cold drink ready for you. We can have a swim or just lie by the pool.’

  She followed me through the house, up the stairs, down the cool pale corridor, past the paintings of Mallorquin landscapes that I had collected over the years, as many by local artists as I could find. I opened the door to her room, dark and cool inside.

  ‘This is yours. I hope you’ll be comfortable.’ I threw open the shutters and light flooded in. I’d decorated it using fabrics from my Seascape range; the blues and greens sang against the brilliant white walls. In her funereal black, Linda resembled a moth that had fluttered into the wrong habitat. ‘I usually keep the shutters closed until the sun moves round in the afternoon. But it’s up to you of course. This switches on the fan.’ I flicked the switch so the ceiling fan began to turn, cutting through the air with a loud creak. ‘But there’s aircon too. I prefer the old-fashioned way, but that’s just me. There.’ I pointed to the control panel.

  Linda gasped. ‘This is all so beautiful. It’s perfect.’

  ‘I’m glad you like it. I’ll leave you to it. Come and find me when you’re ready.’ I left her yanking her case onto the wooden luggage rack.

  In the kitchen, I exchanged my driving pumps for my flip-flops with stones that glittered in the sunshine. I took the lemonade (home-made by Carmen) from the fridge and put it on the tray with the glasses, added a few oaty biscuits on a plate, and took the lot outside. I hoped it wouldn’t be long before the place started working its magic and she began to relax. Otherwise it was going to be a very awkward few days.

  I was reading the paper at the table on the main terrace when I heard footsteps. With a slight sinking feeling, I half-turned my head and said, ‘Come and sit down.’

  ‘Thanks.’ A man’s voice answered.

  I spun round. ‘William! I didn’t know you were going to be out here this week.’ Our neighbour, a renowned pianist, led a peripatetic life that took him all over the world on tour. When one ended, he and his wife, Fleur, came to hide away from the glare of publicity that had accompanied them for the previous weeks.

  ‘Yes. We came here after Paris for a month.’

  He sat beside me. Even in his seventies, he looked great in shorts and T-shirt with his messy grey hair and face as fascinating and lined as Samuel Beckett’s. His broad hands rested on his thighs – insured for over a million at the last count. I couldn’t help staring at them. I always wondered how he dared go anywhere without wrapping them in bubble wrap to protect them from injury.

  ‘Lemonade?’

  ‘No, thanks. I’ve got to get back, but Fleur asked me to see if you were here and if you and Rob would like to come over on Saturday night. We’re having a drinks party. Johnny’s got one of his artists over for an exhibition in the Valldemossa gallery and asked us to introduce him to some likely patrons.’ He winked at me, knowing my interest. ‘Do come.’

  ‘You know I would—’ I would never be going to a party with Rob ever again and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Odd? Bereft?

  ‘But …’ he interrupted me, lifting his hands into the air, palms towards me.

  I smiled. ‘But Rob’s not here and I’ve got three girlfriends staying for a long weekend.’

  ‘Bring them.’ He stood up. ‘Any friend of yours …’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure …’ I couldn’t imagine how the three of them would greet the news that they were being swept off to a party where they would know no one.

  ‘Of course I am. We’d love to see you. It’ll be the usual crowd plus a few.’ The usual crowd would be a mix of wealthy expats, many of them temporary residents with fancy houses like mine, plus the more bohemian arty community who lived on the island permanently. William’s parties were never dull.

  I hesitated for a moment too long.

  ‘That’s settled then.’ He grinned. ‘About seven-thirty?’

  I watched him disappear round the corner of the house. As for Linda, Kate and Jane – I hoped they might be intrigued to see a little of that side of island life. They might even enjoy it.

  And so it began.

  6

  In her room, Linda picked up the soap and sniffed it. She shut her eyes as the scent of a thousand tea roses lifted her spirits. A fat bumblebee buzzed in and out of the window, leading her gaze to the view that stretched down the hillside to the mountains across the valley. In the foreground, olive trees moved in the breeze, their leaves silvery green in the sunlight. Beyond them the dark shiny leaves of a citrus orchard. Directly beneath sprawled the sandy-coloured buildings of what must be Fornalutx.

  The last time she was anywhere as beautiful as this was when she had gone on a walking holiday in Sicily. But since she began her affair with Mike her life had been spent waiting, full of hope and disappointment. Exotic holidays were talked about then not taken because something always came up. Perhaps she should have taken the reins of her life and gone away on her own or with friends, but it was doubly hard to escape when her elderly aunt had demanded so much of her. How could she turn her back on her Aunt Pat after she had been a mother to her for most of her life?

  She remembered once cornering her. ‘I’m thinking of going away. A couple of weeks, that’s all.’

  Aunt Pat’s colour rose and her lips tightened. ‘Oh, Lin, I was about to tell you I’m not feeling too good.’

  Her heart had sunk. Somehow, always somehow, she rarely got away.

  Now she was actually here, she wasn’t sure how to be or what was expected of her. She was aware that Amy must be wondering how one of the most popular girls in the school – hard though that was to imagine now – had ended up as she had. There was a time when the four of them – Amy, Jane, Kate and her – had the world in the palm of their hands. Everyone believed they could have anything that they asked for. Until that last year of the sixth form. That’s when it all went wrong. And yet they had stayed in touch, as if nothing had happened. But of course, the others didn’t know half of what really went on.

  She picked her navy swimsuit, newly bought for the weekend, off the bed. She had better change so she could join Amy in the pool. Swimming had been off Linda’s radar for years. Her swimming captain days were well behind her now. Public swimming pools were out of the question ever since she’d read an article about the skin particles and other unthinkable bits of human residue that floated around in them. And lying sunning herself was not something she’d ever done much of. The few holidays she had taken were occupied with her aunt and trips to English towns where there was a cathedral and a decent tea shop. She hung up her dress – perhaps black was rather sombre now she was here. She’d felt like one of those heavy black beetles beside Amy’s butterfly while they made polite small talk, both impatient for the other two to arrive. One thing she had registered was Amy’s reluctance to talk about her husband. In the old days they had confided everything to one another. But that was a long time ago, and they were different now.

  Her swimsuit seemed to be made of yards of material ruched over the front to disguise the less than perfect bits of any woman’s anatomy. She stepped into it, wiggling it up her legs then … Jesus! … it was like pulling on an iron corset. Bit by discouraging fat-fighting bit, she yanked it up her body, twisting herself, jumping up and down (twice) to persuade it over the more stubborn bits. Finally, it was on. She caught sight of herself in the mirror. She might be in danger of asphyxiating but her stomach looked almost flat. Almost.

  But her eyes were tired, her body heavy with exhaustion. Her nights were spent lying awake worrying about the decision ahead of her. Her future hung in the balance. What to do? Her constant deliberations and the early start had caught up with her at last. She sat on the bed, just for a second, then let herself fall sideways so her head was on the pillow – as soft as a cloud. Bliss. She shut her eyes, lifting her legs on to the bed so she was lying
on her back. Immediately her stomach flattened and she relaxed. Just for a minute. No more.

  The rhythmic whirr of the fan above her head was soothing. This room was the haven she’d never had and was all she’d imagined a room in Amy Green’s house would be. Everything was perfect, colour co-ordinated, with light-green towels that hadn’t been hardened by being hung out to dry, soap that hadn’t dried or cracked from not enough use, a chair covered in a pale fabric in a shell design that matched the flimsy curtains fluttering in the breeze. On her bedside table were a couple of recently published novels. On the distressed chest of drawers, a vase of fresh flowers. She had touched them earlier and, yes, they were real. Every detail had been thought of, right down to the hairdryer in the top drawer, the hot water bottle – did it ever get cold here? – the soaps, shampoo and conditioner. On the white walls hung framed photographs of seascapes. Her eyes closed.

  She was startled awake by her phone. Aunt Pat’s number, though her aunt rarely used her mobile.

  ‘It’s Judy. I’ve come in to look after your aunt. Everything’s fine but your aunt would like to speak to you.’ Her voice was calm, patient: qualities Linda tried to harness but that soon turned to impatience when dealing with her elderly relative.

  ‘Linda! Where are you? Will you be here soon?’ Aunt Pat’s voice was sharp with anxiety.

  Linda braced herself. ‘I’m in Spain, Aunt Pat. Remember? I’ll be back in five days.’

  ‘There’s a strange woman in the house. I don’t know what she’s doing here. She’s eating my biscuits.’

  Deep breath. Keep calm. She can’t help it. ‘That’s Judy. She’s looking after you. She does the shopping, just like I do, and she can eat the biscuits too.’

  ‘But I don’t want her here.’

  Her aunt’s protest was like a drill boring through her brain. Exerting as much patience as she could muster, she said, ‘I can’t visit you this week. I’m on holiday now. Judy’s there to help you.’

  ‘I’m all right on my own.’ Defiant but despairing.

  ‘No, you’re not. We’ve talked about this before.’ So many times, Linda had lost count. ‘If I hadn’t come and switched the gas off last week, you might have blown the place up and your wrist’s only just properly better from your fall in the living room. It’s much better if there’s someone there, making sure you’re safe and you’ve got everything you need.’

  They went round and round in circles until Aunt Pat finally caved in and Linda hung up, exhausted and as upset as her aunt. She should never have come here. Her responsibilities at home were too great.

  A brisk knock at the door brought her back to where she was. Startled, she looked at her watch. She had been asleep for two hours! What would Amy think of her? The door handle turned.

  ‘Are you awake? Can I come in?’ Amy entered carrying a glass of water that rattled with ice and a slice of cucumber. She was wearing a bikini with a brightly coloured sarong tied at her waist. Linda envied her poise, her chin-length blond bob that said fashionable and attractive, against her own less studied appearance.

  She sat up. Despite the fan, her whole body was covered in a thin film of sweat and … she was wearing her swimsuit. ‘I was about to come for a swim but … I’m so sorry.’

  ‘I know. That early flight’s a killer.’ Amy put the water down beside her. Her nails were painted the palest of pinks. ‘I thought I’d leave you to recover. But the others have arrived, so we wondered if you were ready to join us. We’re going to have lunch quite soon. But today’s all about lounging around, getting the hang of the place so, if you need to sleep for longer …’

  ‘No, no. I’d woken up just before you knocked.’ She didn’t want to burden anyone else with her concerns over Aunt Pat. ‘Perhaps I’ll have that swim first though.’ The idea of wiggling herself out of her costume for a shower was too much. A swim was the answer. ‘Give me a minute.’

  ‘Of course. You can find your way?’

  ‘I think so.’ Linda nodded as Amy left the room, straightening the vase of flowers on her way past.

  As she walked down the corridor, after several minutes wrestling with her swimsuit in the loo, Linda could hear unfamiliar voices and laughter. She froze. Of course, none of them were who they once were either. Time would have changed everyone. What was she doing here? She wouldn’t fit in any more. The others were more successful, far more at home in this sort of environment than she was. Four days of being the odd one out lay ahead of her. She turned into the living room, another room straight out of a magazine. It was as if the stylists had just walked off set. White sofas, plumped cushions with an angular terracotta-coloured pattern, terracotta tiles, Moroccan mosaic tiles framing the windows, judiciously placed ornaments, vases and a couple of photo frames. She approached one of them. He must be Mr Amy Green, squinting into the sunlight, tousled grey hair, raised glass in hand, laughing. Nice.

  She took a deep breath, slipped on her sunglasses and walked through the open glass doors into the brightness of outside.

  There was an excited gasp. ‘Linda!’

  At the table with Amy were two women, one of whom Linda recognised immediately. ‘Hello, Kate.’

  ‘You recognise me?’ Kate sounded surprised and a little disappointed.

  ‘You haven’t changed that much,’ said the other woman, who must be Jane. Her once long dark brown hair was streaked blonde like Amy’s but in a shorter layered cut. Her face was lean, her lips thinner than Linda remembered. It was as if she’d been through a stretcher. She extended a long lean leg so her varnished toenails gleamed blood red in the sun. Like Amy, she was wearing a bikini. Linda folded her arms so her towel covered her stomach.

  ‘It’s your smile,’ she said to Kate. It was true. Linda had immediately recognised the infectious grin that lit up Kate’s face. However much weight she might have put on, however different her hair (a pepper-and-salt crop), however lined her face, that smile had remained unchanged.

  ‘I’m Jane,’ Jane said unnecessarily.

  ‘I had a funny feeling you might be.’ That hadn’t come out quite as wittily as she’d intended. But the others laughed all the same. Linda joined in, relieved. Looking at Jane she suddenly saw the teenage girl beneath the adult’s face: indulged, confident, middle-class, secure in the knowledge that she was still the leader of this particular pack.

  ‘You swimming?’ said Kate. ‘I’ve been dying to get in since we arrived. Shall we?’ She stood up. Linda could feel the wiring in her swimsuit pinching the skin underneath her breasts.

  ‘You should have said.’ Amy got up too. ‘I’ll just put some lunch together. Nothing much. No, no.’ This to Jane who had swung her legs off the lounger. ‘You stay there.’

  ‘But I thought I might walk around the garden.’

  ‘Oh, sorry. I thought you were offering … never mind.’ Amy smiled before turning on her heel and leaving them to it.

  Linda wondered whether she should follow her inside but Kate was egging her on down the paved path to the pool.

  She laid her glasses and towel on the edge and got in as quickly as she could, trying not to fuss as she inched her way down the steps and the cold water rose up her legs. At the deep end, Kate plunged in with a giant splash while Linda dithered then slid under. Eventually submerged, the world seemed a better place altogether. She watched as a pair of yellow butterflies danced up into the clear sky over her head.

  ‘Isn’t this place something else?’ said Kate swimming up beside her. They swam a stately breaststroke back down the pool together.

  ‘I’ve never been anywhere like it.’

  ‘To think I almost didn’t come.’ Kate rolled over and floated on her back like a contented seal.

  ‘Why not?’ Linda remembered her own hesitation.

  ‘Oh, they need me at home.’ Her eyes were shut. After a second she turned her head to look at Linda. ‘Four child
ren and a husband who all take me for granted. So I decided this was the perfect excuse and they can discover for themselves exactly how much I do for them.’ She paused. ‘You never married, of course.’

  Linda shook her head. ‘No. I never did.’

  ‘Lucky escape.’

  In that second, Linda loathed her. That was the kind of remark thrown out by smug marrieds as a joke but that could cut the recipient to shreds. At least Amy had not done that. Linda’s own situation felt far from any kind of escape. If Mike had announced he was leaving his wife to marry her, she would have agreed like a shot. But he never did. And she had never pushed him, just waited. And now it was too late for anyone else. ‘Not really,’ she said, and swam to the steps.

  Kate came after her, wading out of the pool with her. ‘Listen. I’m sorry. I didn’t think. It’s the excitement of being here. Almost five whole days on my own, with no one to think about but myself. I feel quite giddy.’ Her smile was enough to make Linda forgive her.

  ‘That’s okay. I’m used to it. It’s just not a great time for me at the moment.’

  Kate looked understanding. ‘Man trouble?’

  ‘Partly. But that trouble’s over.’ Mike was the last thing she wanted to talk about. To her horror, she felt tears stinging her eyes so picked up her dark glasses and slid them on. ‘I’ve got trouble at work.’

  ‘Then we must make the most of your time away from it.’ Kate wrapped a sarong around herself. ‘Look. They’ve laid the table.’

  Linda was grateful she didn’t quiz her for more information, but then most people did dismiss librarianship as boring when in fact it was anything but.

  ‘Do you want to change first? It’s all cold so it can wait.’ There was something in Amy’s voice that said she would rather they didn’t. Her finger tapped a beat on the table.

  ‘No, no.’ Kate took the hint. ‘We’re fine.’

  Linda’s costume clung like an immoveable damp second skin. Despite her self-consciousness, she removed her towel in the hope she would dry faster. Nobody turned a hair.