Becoming Strangers (25 page)

'We shall have to say our goodbyes one day.'

'We will, dear, but I ain't going to do it every bleeding day. You can't ask that of me. Now, I'm going to have a go at that breakfast buffet, take advantage of it while we're here,' he said, standing awkwardly. 'Come along, dear.' He gave her a hand up and they both groaned and shook themselves.

'We're a fine couple, aren't we?' she said, accepting his arm. 'We used to ice skate as well!'

'On one occasion, we did,' he said. As they reached the foot of the stairs he took a moment to look back down at the sea, gathered strength from it, and with his wife leaning on him, he began to mount the stairs.

B
URNS WASN'T SURE
where the opportunity was in this problem. He sat at his computer and erased the entire document he'd written on the subject. His mother had listened sympathetically to him and given him her homely thoughts.

'They say bad luck runs in threes...'

He asked himself, out loud, like an aspiring actor, 'What is my motivation here?' Did he want Adam in trouble? Not particularly, given that he was staff. Did he want to discredit the Dutch woman? Not particularly, he just wanted her to go away. He felt a little sorry for her poor husband who was supposedly on his way out. The man bore his trials and tribulations well. If it were him, he'd have been out of there. (A car commercial came to mind...) There was nothing to be gained either way. He considered that he could do what was right. But values and morals were mutable, they had a currency attached to them. As ever, he was torn between the reticent principles of his mother and the cunning amiability of his father; to offer something of himself which would later cause him resentment, or to be everybody's friend. His dad was a debtor, his mother a creditor. His dad was bought a drink in the public bar, he insisted he would pay it back and probably he meant it. But he didn't.

He supposed friendship was worth having. He knew he was a good person. Probably it was best for everybody if a man was without dogma.

He hated that bloody Jason, though. Prick. He would be all over this, of course. Letters and phone calls to Mark Cohen. He was the type who sent emails in capital letters. He'd be telling him how ineffective the manager was. First he fails to retrieve mad old biddy who goes walkabout, then he lets some hippy staff
member grope the wife, and when the same man is accused the next day of raping a client, he sits twiddling his thumbs. Of course, the message would begin with a reminder of their friendship. What was the American equivalent of 'mate'? Buddy. 'Hey Buddy-boy, have you got a problem down here...'

He ought to save his own arse. That was the first thing he should do. He'd call in that sad-sack De Groot fellow, find out what the latest was, insist on pressing charges, and then he'd be in good shape with Jason and his buddy. He'd send an email to Cohen, first of all, telling him how he had the company of a friend of his, tell him he'd had a situation and he'd dealt with it firmly.

He would bring in the police. He would brief the staff. He might do both at the same time and issue a statement to the guests. He would not sweep this one under the carpet. He would say, probably he would close the meeting with, 'I will not allow a violation in this hotel to go unpunished. A rapist must face the most serious consequences that the law can bring.'

He called up to the De Groots' room and spoke to Jan. He asked him to come down to his office at his earliest convenience, and said he hoped the wife was feeling better.

There was a knock at his door and the door opened a little; the sweaty Irishman poked his head into the room.

'A word, if you don't mind,' he said, looking nervous.

A
NNEMIEKE WOULD NOT LOOK AT
J
AN
when he went back to the room. He had brought her a croissant and a roll. She turned away, asking him to pull the blinds back down. She was crying, silently, he could tell from her body movements. He knew why. It was not the rape.' It was not his lack of support. He suspected she was ashamed. And there was something else. There was him. He was part of all this emotion on her part. It made him feel more tenderly towards her than he had done before. He sat on the end of her bed and said nothing. After some time the phone rang and he went to answer it.

'Certainly I will,' was all that he said, and then he added, 'Fine.'

He went to put his hand on her shoulder but instead put both hands in his pockets and stood by the side of the bed.

'Burns wants to see me. He asks after you. He will want to know what we wish to do.'

She said nothing but sat up, blinking. He swallowed with difficulty for his mouth was very dry.

'Did that young man hurt you? Did something go wrong?'

She shook her head. He let himself out of the door.

As he came into the reception area, he saw Bill coming out of Burns's office. He raised his arm to greet him and was surprised that Bill feigned not to see him and
moved with squeaking sneakers across the tiles to go out through the double doors.

J
AN STOOD IN FRONT OF
B
URNS'S DESK
. Burns was busy and his mouth was down-turned, he looked pale and ill. He coughed like a sick man and then cleared his throat.

'Take a seat, Mr De Groot,' Burns said, using the mouse to shut down his computer, not looking at Jan.

'My wife and I, I suppose we will be pressing charges,' Jan said.

'I think we might need another nip of Scotch today, Mr De Groot.'

'No, thank you,' Jan replied.

Burns closed the drawer.

'If you wish to press charges against Adam Watts, then you should do so on your own behest at the local Police Station.'

Jan balked. 'I would prefer that you ask the police to come here and take a statement, if you don't mind.'

'Well, I'm afraid I'd rather not get the resort involved in this affair.'

'Don't talk nonsense, the attack has occurred on your property, committed by a member of your staff.' Jan tried to swallow.

'Would you like a glass of water?'

'Thank you.'

Burns went to the cooler. Poor man, he thought,
waiting for the cup to fill. He padded back to the desk. He had taken his shoes off and was barefoot. He gave Jan the cup and perched on the corner of the desk nearest to him.

'Look, I won't beat around the bush, Mr De Groot.' (He winced at the unfortunate turn of phrase.) 'I'll come to the point. There are two stories. Both acknowledge that sex took place.'

Jan nodded and accomplished the swallow that had been eluding him all morning. The night's dose of morphine was drying him out.

'One account denies it was consenting. Your wife's. But there are no witnesses. Obviously. I have reason to believe, well, that she might not be credible, and I prefer not to involve the resort as I don't think we could support her side of the story.'

'What are you talking about?'

'More water?'

'No.'

Burns saw that the inner rims of Jan's eyes were red, they looked sore. His skin was yellow and dry on his face; only the bleaching of the curly hairs on his forearms indicated that he had had any sunshine. He had been good-looking once, in a formal way.

'Let me tell you the honest truth. Another resident here, a guest, came to me this morning and told me that he had had sexual relations with Mrs De Groot in the resort, recently.'

'But this is not true.'

Burns sat back on his chair and raised his eyebrows
in surprise. 'Well, I cant think why anyone would make up such a thing. It sort of discredits your wife ... you can see that, can't you?'

'It is a lie, to protect the young man.'

'I don't think so.'

'What do you mean, you don't think so? Your job is to protect your clients, not to judge what is true or not true.'

'Listen, Mr De Groot,' Burns sat forward, wringing his hands between his knees, looking into the mans eyes, 'it would be much better for you and your wife to let it drop.'

'My wife does not want to let it drop,' Jan bit down on his lip. 'Good God, man, who are you to judge me, to judge us, to look at us and say, this woman is a liar and her man, he is a fool?'

Burns saw that the man's eyes were bulging; his pupils were blurred behind a thickly watery surface.

'I saw the way she was dancing with Adam on Saturday night,' he said.

Jan looked at him. 'She is on holiday. She may dance!'

'That's not what I meant.'

'I am asking you to support us,' said Jan. A sudden flow of tear water to his eyes was costing him dearly; his throat was raw and dry. He coughed and hurt himself.

'I was going to call the police. But the only person apart from the two of them who can add anything is the fellow who told me he'd also had sex with her here. You know what the police would say; they'd say it was a question of character. Even here, for Christ's sake,'
Burns insisted, getting up and making his way back to his chair. 'I don't know what went on between them, how do I know? It was probably somewhere between both of their stories. Listen, I don't even like the fellow

'You have judged us.'

'No,' Burns said, his voice rising, 'not you. Just what happened. I wish it was none of my business.'

'What shall I do?' Jan stood up and covered his face with his hands for a moment, the dark was pure comfort. When he took his hands away he felt the swat of air on his face from the overhead fan and the light from the window behind Burns, it was all too dry and too light.

'You should comfort her, you should get ready to go home.'

'Home?' Jan walked towards the door, nodding. If there was ever any home to go to, this would put paid to what remained. He turned on his heel as he opened the door, he heard the singsong note of the computer on Burns's desk starting up again.

'I was young like you once, I thought only in terms of doing my job. You don't truly see how other people are when you are young, you are not married, you have no children. It is all theoretical. But things change.'

Burns stood up straight and opened out the palms of his hands. 'I am sorry, Mr De Groot, honest to...'

'No, you are not. Not really.'

T
HAT NIGHT
J
AN PROPOSED
that they get out of the re-sort, hire a car or take the bus to have a look round the main town. He sat by the balcony leafing through the hotel compilation of brochures, circling things in pencil, preparing to make a call.

'I don't want to walk through reception with everyone looking at me and whispering.'

'No.' He closed the folder.

'And what if we bumped into
him
?'

'He's been fired. Burns will be taking care of that.'

'I shall stay in the room for the last few days of our final holiday together. I don't mind.'

'You know, I asked him to press charges on your behalf, Annemieke. It is his most serious advice not to do so.'

'Why? Why is it his serious advice?'

'Because it just is, it would be traumatic for you, hard to win,'Jan had said feebly, stepping out on to the balcony. On this occasion she got up from the bed and followed him out there. She looked quickly from him across the vista of the lawns and flowers and back again.

'He doesn't like me. Don't you think that if I was Jason Ryder's wife things would be very different?'

'Well, perhaps she would not be in this situation, Annemieke,' he said, his back against the railing, facing
her. He arched his back; it hurt at the base of his spine, when he breathed in it seemed to catch painfully.

Tears sprang to her eyes and she pressed her lips together, gathering herself a moment before saying, 'I knew it would come out. You've always thought so little of me. You've always seen me as little more than a tart who cannot be trusted and should not be given any respect. You know, my mother was mortified when I brought you home. You know what she used to say to me when I called her crying, she said, "Next time marry someone of your own class." And I said, "There will be no next time; I have to make this work." She said to me, "Then for God's sake have affairs, find a man who can make you happy, you deserve to be happy."'

And so you took her advice.'

'Only when all else failed.'

'That's some fine advice, coming from a mother.'

There was a knock at the door, quiet at first, then insistent. Jan looked at his watch, it was after seven p.m. and the beds had not been turned down. He looked at Annemieke and she waved him past her. He opened the door just enough to look through and was surprised to see Burns standing there. He stepped out of the room, holding the door behind his back.

'What is it?'

Burns took a deep breath.

'Mr De Groot, I came,' he took another breath, 'I came to tell you that I will give you my support, on behalf of the resort, I will call the police in and we can press charges if that is the course you want to take. I've
changed my mind, I want to help you.' He raised his eyes from looking at Jans hand holding on to the door knob and looked the man in the face. He saw there fatigue and despair. He felt sick to his stomach, sick with sorrow, overcome. It felt like being lovesick.

'I thank you,' Jan said, 'but it is no use, I think.' Burns opened his mouth to speak but Jan shook his head. 'And it is not necessary,' he said with a smile, 'nothing good can come of it.'

'For your wife's sake?'

'Nothing good can come of it.'

Burns had the sudden impression, seeing Jan at the door, holding it, of a man holding out against wrongdoing. He understood that this was an insight and was startled, he tried to hold on to it, to make sense of it, but as suddenly as it had come, the understanding was gone.

A
NNEMIEKE WOULD NOT LEAVE THE ROOM
the next day. She lay on the bed, mute and unmoving, while he was there. When he left the room, he waited outside for a while and heard the bed creak as she got up from it. He heard the TV emit the small but growing note of electronic euphoria, then he heard the bed creak again followed by the discordant sounds of channels being changed rapidly. When he returned in the late afternoon there was a room service tray outside the door
and he saw the plucked twigs that had borne grapes, the rind of a cheese and an empty butter packet. There was a slice of cheesecake that had been robbed of its fruit topping. She was fine.