Summer Loving (12 page)

As I look at all these things, I feel a little strange. It’s as if none of it is mine. It’s like I’m a cleaner or something; looking at someone else’s clothes. They don’t have any sort of emotional resonance for me. They’re just things. It’s an extraordinary feeling and one I’m not familiar with.

I keep rifling through the wardrobe and I still don’t know what I’m doing. What with the scotch and the Champagne, I’m feeling rather pissed, but I’m still standing up. I wonder what else is in the minibar.

Just as I’m about to walk over and investigate the minibar one more time, I realise why I’m looking in the wardrobe. I’m looking for some evidence that Franklin has bought me something for my birthday tomorrow.

It’s much less easy to hide things in a hotel room. There’s a little safe built into the wall, but I don’t know what the combination is. Perhaps there’s something in there. It’s unlikely, though. It isn’t very big. Unless he’s got me some jewellery or something. Maybe that’s it. Maybe he’s got me some earrings. Diamond earrings.

I’m crying again. I wasn’t aware of it, but I felt a drop of water on my collar bone and I thought it was coming from my hair, which is still slightly wet. But it wasn’t. It was sliding down from my face.

I discover a small bottle of white wine with a screw top and open that and start swigging from it. I return to the wardrobe and give it a good going over, looking for my present. Or maybe a card. Or an iTunes token. Anything. But there’s nothing. Maybe he’s hidden it in the bedroom. I suck down the rest of the bottle and go to investigate.

But there’s nothing. I check all the drawers and look in the en-suite bathroom. Perhaps he’s taken whatever it was with him so I wouldn’t find it. I’m sure that’s what’s happened. I decide to lie down on the bed for a moment, just to rest my eyes. Before I do that, I take a look in a full-length mirror. I look dreadful. My eyes are puffy from all the crying. I take the towel off, chuck it on the floor and look in the mirror again. I’m a puffy-eyed, straggly-haired, bleached blonde fuckup with huge fake tits. That’s what I am. Good tan, though. Coming along nicely.

I shiver from the air conditioning, which is obviously not set for the comfort of damp, naked people, so I get under the sheets. I’m still holding the white wine bottle. I tip it up, open my mouth and let the last few drops fall onto my tongue. I mustn’t fall asleep.

I’m having an anxiety dream and it involves my clothes, which I left in the changing room. I know dreams are meant to have significance and hidden meanings, but I don’t think this one does.

I’m in one of the restaurants eating, I think,
escargot
. I’m with some young, bald guy with no chin, who’s laughing at one of his own jokes. Janica comes in with my white blouse and dark red skirt and says something like ‘These are yours.’

I deny this. I tell her that I did have a white blouse and a red skirt and I did leave them in the changing room, but the ones that she’s holding are not mine. She demands to know whose they are. I explain that they probably belong to Mrs Forrester. She usually copies what I wear, but never gets it exactly right. On that baffling note, I wake up.

I stare at the ceiling. At least I know where I am, which is something. I also remember how I came to be in bed. At least I haven’t got a hangover. Oh. Hang on. Yes I have. Not too bad, though. Slight headache and dehydration.

I reach out, grab my alarm clock and squint at it to see the time. The display says it’s 7:40. Hopefully this is 7:40pm, not tomorrow morning. Now I’m going to be late for dinner with Estelle. No matter. I can tell her that I wasn’t well or something. The good thing about health lies is that no one can prove they’re lies. They can have their suspicions but no positive proof. I drink a glass of water and feel slightly better.

Anyway, I’ve got something better than a health lie, it just occurred to me. I can say (fairly truthfully) say that the surfing lesson was really exhausting and really took it out of me. Much worse than I’d imagined. I ached all over and just lay down on the bed to have a rest and the next thing I knew, I was fast asleep. Yes. That sounds convincing enough and she’s not going to know any better. I’ll have a moan about the fact that I’ve got another lesson tomorrow and I wonder if I’ll be up to it.

Oh god. Another lesson with Kirstan. What am I going to say to him? What’s the atmosphere going to be like after this afternoon’s fracas? What a mess. Franklin will be back tomorrow afternoon. I’m not looking forward to that. As I said before, today changed everything and I don’t think there can be any going back. Oh shit.

The most important thing is that I’ve got to stop thinking about Kirstan and what happened this afternoon and the mental unravelling that accompanied it. I’ve got a plan. Every time I start thinking about him and all the other stuff, I’ll just imagine a huge neon sign saying STOP!

I take a shower and feel much better. I’d better decide what I’m going to wear. I pick out a pale blue cotton dress. I like this one. Once again, this is one of those pieces of clothing that you can’t really wear a bra with. As you may have guessed, it was Franklin’s choice, or the choice of some woman in a swanky shop somewhere.

It’s a Stella McCartney and cost €2,700. I know this, because Franklin left the receipt in the box, possibly intentionally. It’s held up by a pair of very thin spaghetti straps. There’s no back to speak of and it’s low cut. I put it on and look in the mirror. It looks sexy and it feels lovely and cool.

I decide I’ll wear my Manolo Blahnik open-toed sandals with this. Kirstan used to say that he always liked walking behind me so that he could see my wiggle. Damn! I’m doing it again. I must stop this.

I walk down the corridor on my way to the restaurant. Heading towards me, I can see a vision of sexy, blonde loveliness in a gorgeous, short, tight black dress, which I only realise is Janica when she’s about ten feet away. She’s wearing black fishnet stocking and black high heels.

She stops when she sees it’s me and looks me up and down.

‘Wow! You look great. I didn’t recognise you for a second there.’

I smile at her. Without the sporty clothes she looks entirely different. Her hair looks amazing and the slash of red lipstick across her mouth gives her an electrifyingly erotic look. I wonder where she’s off to.

‘I didn’t recognise
you
, either. You look, sort of, really sexy!’

She grins, and I get the full blast of those whiter than white teeth. ‘Thank you! Shall we go and get married now? There’s a place in Monchique that specialises in that sort of thing. I’ll be the man.’

I can smell her perfume. It’s heavy and musky. She looks at her watch.

‘Listen. D’you want to have a quick coffee? Are you on your way to dinner? I just wanted to have a quick chinwag. Won’t take long.’

‘Sure.’

There’s a little area outside the corridor with coffee stuff and little biscuits in a basket. It’s warm and slightly humid. We get our coffees and sit down opposite each other on small, uncomfortable little sofas. The dress she’s wearing is so tight that I can see it’s difficult for her to sit. She attempts to cross her legs, but this is plainly impossible, so she gives up.

‘How are you? We were both worried about you. Are you feeling any better?’

‘Yes. I’m sorry if I frightened you. I think I had a bit of a panic attack. It seemed like I could only breathe outwards for a while there. It was pretty frightening.’

‘Yeah, well, me and Kirstan both do first aid, but I’d never seen anything like that before. Scary!’

‘I’m OK now. And thank you.’

‘Yeah. Look. Was everything alright during your surf lesson today? When Kirstan got back he seemed really bothered by something. It was like he had a bloody black cloud above his head. Sometimes he can be a bit blunt with the clients. I just wondered if you’d had a row or something, or he’d been rude. He’s a nice guy. I don’t like to see him upset and I just thought I’d ask.’

What am I meant to say to
that
? I take a deep breath. The neon sign saying STOP seems to have failed.

‘What did he tell you about me?’

‘About you? Nothing. I guessed you were just one of his old flames, if you don’t mind me saying that. He said he knew you from a long time ago. That was it. Nothing more. You seemed like you got on when you were in the changing room. I just assumed…’

Oh shit. I can feel the tears trying to force their way out again. I can tell she’s noticed because she looks down briefly, as if she’s trying not to embarrass me.

‘Yes. We did know each other from a while ago in Cornwall. I was thirsty after the lesson – all the salt water I’d swallowed - so we went to one of those beach bars and got a coffee. We just started talking about a couple of, er, unfinished issues. You know - things from the past. I got a bit upset and maybe I started freaking out a bit. I got
very
upset, to tell you the truth. I threw a packet of straws at his head.’

‘Straws?’

‘Yes. You know, drinking straws.’

‘Yeah, Jack the bar guy said he thought Kirstan had done something to make you angry. Right. So it wasn’t anything particularly…’

She stops in mid-sentence. Her eyes widen and she slaps a hand across her mouth.

‘Oh. My. God! Oh my
god
! It’s
you
! Oh, Jesus! Oh, this is unbelievable! Christ almighty!’

‘What? What’s me?’

‘It just didn’t click. It didn’t click. I’m so stupid. I saw your name written down on the form. Saskia. I thought
what
an
unusual
name
. I just didn’t think. I didn’t make the connection. Bloody hell on toast.’

‘What connection? What are you talking about?’

‘You’re
Sask
! You’re the one he always talks about. You’re the one that, I mean, you’re the reason that he’s
here
. You’re the reason that he’s been bouncing around the world like a lost puppy for the last god knows how many years! You’re
Sask
, for Christ’s sake! You’re
the
one
!’

I’m speechless. I think my mouth is hanging open.

Tears appear in Janica’s eyes and her voice suddenly goes wobbly.

‘I’m sorry, Saskia. Sask. I know this is going to fuck up my makeup, but I’m going to have to have a little cry. This is
so
fucking romantic.’

She gulps and her eyes fill with tears. She grabs a handful of paper serviettes from a silver container and sobs into them for about a minute. Then she blows her nose and recovers. I’m glad to see that there’s someone around here who has control over their weeping. She
is
going to have to reapply her makeup, though.

‘You’re the one he was with in Cornwall. You’re the one who went off to university. You’re the one that made him go off the rails for a year. You’re the reason he’s
never
settled down with anyone. God.’ She punches the arm of the chair. ‘This is fantastic. Holy shit. No wonder you almost had a bloody fit when you saw him!’

‘It
was
a bit of a shock.’ To put it very mildly indeed.

‘Christ – what must have been going through his head this afternoon in reception when he saw
you
! What composure! I mean – he didn’t – I’d never have guessed it was you. He didn’t react in the right way. He was just so laid back about it. Making all the usual sarky jokes and the witty comments. And you’re here with someone else. You’re here with that, er, guy! He was being nice and cool and pleasant, but inside he must have been bleeding
dying
! Christ on a bike!’

Well this is all I need. If my inner turmoil wasn’t bad enough, this has just made it a hundred times worse.

‘I know
all
about you! I even know the type of toothpaste you used to use; Aquafresh Triple Protection! The number of pissed nights me and Kirst have spent together sobbing like jerks over our crappo love lives.’ She grins. ‘Jesus, I almost felt like going the other way and giving him a shag sometimes! I’m sure he’d have done the same for me. In fact I’m a hundred per cent
sure
he would!’ She giggles at the thought.

‘Wow.’

That’s all I can think of to say, I’m afraid. I’m reeling from this. I’ll let her do all the talking.

‘He said that being without you burnt a hole in him
every
single
bloody
day
! Something like that, anyway. Should I be telling you this? Oh, sod it. It was such a great, tragic story. It just never failed to hit you right here, you know?’ She hits herself in the chest with a fist.

‘I don’t know what to say. I didn’t realise. He was the love of my life. Still is, I suppose. This afternoon, I told him that I never wanted to go away to university all those years ago. I
was waiting for him to ask me to stay, but he never did. So off I went. And I never saw him again. Until today. And It’s been killing me. It’s been killing me for eight years.’

‘Oh, baby.’

Janica puts her coffee on the floor, walks over and sits next to me, putting an arm around my shoulders.