We Are Family Page 28

  Emily sidled around a rust-scarred oil drum which half blocked the front entrance and followed Bill inside.

  Rusted pipes hung from the walls like jungle vines, the wind blowing through them, making them groan like the timbers of a ship at sea. Emily slipped her hand into Bill’s.

  ‘This place gives me the creeps,’ she said.

  ‘You soon get used to it,’ he answered.

  They hurried on beneath the dripping, mildewed rafters which carved the open grey sky above into squares.

  ‘It’s such a shame,’ Emily remarked.

  They walked on, negotiating their way around smashed roof tiles, broken bottles and papier-mâché mounds of old fish-and-chip newspaper wrappings. When they reached the corridor which ran along the back of the rows of doorless changing cubicles, Bill stopped.

  Releasing Emily’s hand, he knelt down on the ground and unrolled the sheet of paper, spreading it out and weighing it down with pieces of broken masonry. It was a scale drawing for the structural alterations he’d planned out for the building. Every last detail had been etched into the paper with ink.

  He knew Emily was standing behind him, looking down over his shoulder. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves.

  ‘It’s just an idea,’ he told her without daring to look round. ‘And I know it might sound crazy, thinking about taking out another loan, because the café’s not yet making money. But that’s only because of the weather. And bad weather passes, doesn’t it? It always does.’

  He was talking faster and faster, afraid now of her silence, afraid of what it might mean.

  ‘And this building’s cheap,’ he went on. ‘Really, it is. Even when you take into account the amount of work which will be necessary. I’ve compared prices from all over. Other resorts not half as busy as Stepmouth usually is and you’d be paying double for a building this size and this close to the sea, and . . .’

  He finally paused, praying that she’d speak. But she said nothing. He still didn’t dare turn to face her. Instead, he stabbed a finger down at the plan.

  ‘I thought that what we could do was clear this whole area here,’ he said, sweeping his arm expansively to indicate the entire changing area, ‘and then divide it up. We could put a wall in there,’ he hurriedly continued, pointing first at the drawing and then at the far side of the room, ‘with the kitchens behind it –’

  ‘Kitchens?’ Finally, she’d spoken.

  ‘Yes, because that way we don’t use up any of the space at the front of the building, which means we’ll be able to offer more tables with a sea view –’

  ‘Bill,’ she said. He felt her hand on his shoulder. Her voice was firm. ‘Slow down. Stop.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘You mean you want me to buy this place, don’t you? Is that what you’re saying?’

  ‘Yes. No.’ He turned at last to face her. He stared at her perplexed. Hadn’t he already made it obvious? ‘Not you. Us. I thought you realised. I thought we . . .’

  Like a meteorite, he felt his ardour crashing back down to earth and starting to cool. He’d gone too far. Too quickly. He could see it in her eyes.

  She knelt down beside him and stared at the drawing and then at him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. His voice was dull, defeated. He closed his eyes.

  ‘No,’ he heard her saying, ‘don’t be.’ She was kissing him then, planting tiny kiss after tiny kiss on his face. ‘Don’t be, you wonderful, wonderful man.’

  Chapter XVII

  Mallorca, Present Day

  Laurie couldn’t open her eyes. The feeling that enveloped her was so unlike anything she’d ever experienced before, that she had to repeat the fact that had caused it in her head several times before she could believe it was real: Sam Delamere had just made love to her.

  She was lying on her back in the old boat, cushions squashed uncomfortably around her. Sam was above her, holding her hands above her head. Both of them were sweating, their breath syncopating with the rhythm of the waves breaking on to the shore outside the boathouse.

  Slowly, she opened her eyes. Sam was staring down into her face. He was still inside her, but he made no move. She felt glued to him, as if the surface of his naked body – at once so familiar and yet so strange – had fused with hers. She realised that her legs were wrapped around him, her heels pressing hard into the small of his back. She felt her heart pounding, failing to slow down from the climax that had just rocked her and made her cry out.

  Tentatively, she started exploring how her body felt. Her face was hot, her lips sweetly stinging from the violence of their kisses, her hair was dishevelled, sprawled across her face, her back aching from where it had scraped along the bottom of the wooden boat.

  That first unexplained kiss of Sam’s had been like a match that had sparked an out-of-control firework display. Now she felt as if she were a survivor, staring at him through the smoke.

  As if reading her mind, Sam let go of her hands, so that he could gently stroke the hair from her face. His eyes seemed huge. They seemed to fill her vision, blocking out all her thoughts.

  Slowly, she moved her legs down his back. When he pulled away from her, it felt as if they were ripping apart. She sat up and shakily shifted back into the corner of the boat on a jumble of cushions. He sat up too, holding on to the sides of the boat, as if for support. Their legs were overlapping, as they faced each other, the scent of sex, the sound of the sea overwhelming in the hot, damp air. She was trembling all over.

  Sam reached out and grabbed her hands, as if he were stopping her from sinking. Then he squeezed them, as if she were his own lifeline.

  ‘Did that really just happen?’ she asked, finding it difficult to talk. Her throat was dry and she was panting. ‘Tell me this isn’t real. That we didn’t . . . I thought . . .’

  She thought what? She didn’t know. She didn’t know whether this was the start of something new or the end of something old. All she knew was that this was real and it was happening now. She could feel a hundred questions stacking up in her head, but she couldn’t think of any of them clearly. She stared at him, willing him to have some answers.

  ‘I didn’t come here just for this, I promise,’ he said. ‘Oh, Laurie.’

  He pulled her tight towards him and Laurie felt her body willingly melt against his once again. Her mind was racing, but it felt as if she wasn’t getting anywhere. It was as if there was no resistance, like trying to pedal on a bike which was going too fast downhill.

  Why did it feel this wonderful to be naked with him? Why did it feel so natural and right? They’d both just been unfaithful to their partners. Not just physically, but emotionally, spiritually, completely. On every level. Why didn’t she feel even the least bit guilty? Maybe she was still riding high on an endorphin wave, she thought. Maybe in a minute –

  But she didn’t want to think about the future. She closed her eyes, pressing her cheek against the damp hair on Sam’s chest, breathing in the scent of him, hearing his heartbeat beneath her ear. All that mattered was right now. This feeling of being in Sam’s arms again, of feeling as if she were home.

  Sam kissed her again and again, feather-light kisses starting in her hair, until he reached for her face, his lips exploring every crevice of her skin, as if greeting her eyelids, her temples, the sides of her nose and claiming them once more for himself.

  ‘I can’t believe this is happening,’ she said.

  They stared wide-eyed at each other, grinning like idiots.

  ‘OK. We have to swim,’ he said and she laughed, realising they were both dripping with sweat.

  Sam helped her out of the boat and, as her feet touched the floor, her legs were shaking. Sam went to retrieve his shorts.

  ‘Ah, forget it!’ he said, throwing them on the floor again. ‘Come on.’

  He stretched out his hand to her and they ran out of the boathouse, on to the hot sand. It was still baking, the calm sea warm from the sunshine. Laurie didn’t stop running, or holding
Sam’s hand until they were right in the water and were diving simultaneously under the surface together.

  Sam grabbed her as they surfaced. They were both laughing as they stood up.

  ‘This feels like a dream,’ she sighed.

  Laurie hugged him, and kissed the rivulets of water on his tanned shoulder. She realised now how much she’d wanted to touch him when they’d been sailing. How the agony of denial had now gone. She wanted to scream for joy at the freedom she felt. She kissed his skin over and over again, as if he were quenching some inner thirst she couldn’t satisfy. Soon her legs were around his waist again and he held her.

  He drew back slightly so that he could look at her.

  ‘You’re so beautiful,’ he said. ‘I didn’t tell you that enough. Ever. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.’

  She smiled, feeling it, as he looked into her eyes. Sam put his finger to her lips to stop her from replying.

  ‘I love you, Laurie. We have been together. I can’t live knowing that you’re out there and not with me.’

  And as the words she’d most longed to hear finally reached her, she realised that they hardly mattered. It was like receiving the confirmation letter for a job she’d already accepted. She didn’t need proof in words that he loved her, she’d been able to feel his love from the second she’d turned round and seen him standing in the doorway of the boathouse.

  ‘But . . . but what about?’ Doubts, fears filled her head. She searched his face for them too. ‘You’ve got a family, Sam. There’s Claire . . .’

  ‘And James,’ he pointed out.

  Laurie shook her head. She couldn’t even begin to describe the world of difference between how she felt for James compared to what she was feeling now.

  ‘I don’t want James,’ she whispered. ‘I love you. I never stopped loving you. Not for a second.’

  Sam leant his forehead against hers. ‘We’re in this together.’

  And then she felt his hardness below her in the water. And as he gently pushed inside her again, the waves gently caressed their naked skin. She felt completely weightless as Sam held her, but more alive than ever, as if she’d just woken up from a very long sleep and that being apart from him had just been a bad dream. As they made love in the sea, she never stopped looking into Sam’s eyes, knowing that he’d meant what he’d said. Knowing that this was the most intense moment of her life. Knowing that whatever lay ahead, that this moment was the start of her future.

  It was only later, when they were retrieving their dishevelled clothes from the sandy floor of the boathouse, that it occurred to Laurie that anyone could have seen them. That anyone could have been watching them in the sea and that it hadn’t even crossed her mind to care.

  But as they strolled back up the path towards the villa, Laurie did start to care. She closed her eyes for a second, desperate to hold on to the magic of the afternoon, clinging on to the feeling of being totally absorbed in one another, as they’d kissed and made love.

  By the time they reached the top of the path, her heart was beating hard – not only from the exertion of the climb, but from the delayed shock of her recklessness. Stopping by the eucalyptus trees, she broke away from Sam. Dante was standing on a ladder with his back to them, pruning a tree. He’d already seen her at the villa with James this week. Whatever would he think if he turned round and now saw her with Sam?

  Why was she suddenly worrying about what the gardener thought of her? Why were her morals suddenly kicking in? Surely it was far too late for that.

  Sam stole a quick kiss, as if he were sealing the afternoon, but Laurie sensed a change in him, too. It was then that Laurie knew whatever wild abandon they’d shared on the beach, couldn’t exist up here.

  Laurie stopped by the terrace steps. ‘What’s going to happen, Sam?’

  ‘Don’t look like that,’ he said. ‘Don’t look like you’re scared.’

  ‘I am scared. I’m happier than I’ve ever been and more frightened.’

  ‘So am I, but everything’s going to be . . .’ He paused and they stared at each other. ‘We’re going to make it.’

  She nodded, too emotional to say anything. They walked in silence through the terrace doors. Everything was just as perfect as when she’d left it this morning – the kitchen immaculate, the low table on the rug polished and clean. And yet it felt different, as if the familiar living room was at once detached from her and yet charged with emotion.

  As she walked towards the two large white sofas, she saw the framed photograph of Tony on the wall. He was smiling, holding up a fish on a sailing holiday. Laurie turned away from the image of the man she’d never met. She felt as if she’d betrayed him in his own home. If she felt like this, how must it be for Sam?

  ‘You know that Rachel’s coming tomorrow, don’t you?’ she said.

  ‘You invited your dad here, after all?’ Sam guessed. ‘Without telling him whose house this is?’

  She nodded, thinking about her father. Her heart seemed to lurch with terror at the thought of him being here. What the hell had she done?

  ‘Oh Christ. This is such a mess.’

  ‘Can’t you put your dad off?’ Sam asked.

  ‘But what about Rachel? Surely I owe her something, before . . . before . . . ?’

  She couldn’t bring herself even to begin to imagine before what. Before she exploded Rachel’s world. Before she hurt her unwitting father. Before she blew everyone’s trust.

  ‘Don’t back out on me now, Laurie. Not after this.’

  ‘I’m not! It’s just . . . I don’t know . . .’

  ‘We can’t avoid telling them,’ Sam said. ‘We can’t just run away.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Maybe it’s best if Rachel is here. Do it properly. Wait for her to sort things out with your father and then . . . then . . . it’ll be good for Claire. I can’t tell her tonight because she’s having some stupid party. Yes, it’ll be much better if I tell her tomorrow when Rachel’s here to, to . . .’

  Clean up the mess? Laurie thought, the reality of him mentioning Claire taking her breath away. There seemed to be so many people involved. So many people who were about to get hurt. It felt like too high a price to pay. She hadn’t realised that to be selfish would be so much harder and more painful than being selfless.

  She felt as if she’d trodden on a stepping stone in the middle of a river which had given way and now she didn’t know how to proceed, didn’t know whether to advance or go back.

  ‘What’s going to happen? I mean now, right now?’ she asked.

  She was met by her own look of fear in his face. She couldn’t bear for this afternoon to have ended already.

  ‘I’ve got to go. Just for a little while. There are a few things I need to do before . . . before . . . well . . . I should be prepared.’

  They both knew that he might be leaving everything he’d worked so hard for. There was no way Rachel would let him stay when she found out he was leaving Claire.

  Sam cleared his throat. ‘And there’s Archie to think about.’

  The sudden uncertainty in his voice frightened her.

  ‘Sam, you have to believe in us,’ she said. He walked to her and held her wordlessly, as if the strength of his hug would make her believe that he did. And yet she could hear his heart beating as hard as hers beneath the soft fabric of his shirt.

  Sam dropped her off by the cafés on the seafront in Sóller and told her that he’d join her at the villa tomorrow. It was an awkward goodbye, too loaded with the pressure of the immediate future. They’d agreed that he would tell Claire as soon as it was feasibly possible and that he would come to Laurie straight away.

  But now, as she walked slowly along the pavement, the cafés filling up with tourists basking in the early-evening sunshine, the waiters clipping fresh paper tablecloths to the square tables, Laurie felt as if she were tied to Sam with elastic. As if the connection between them was being stretched. All she wanted to do was to jump up and spri
ng back to him.

  She had felt so safe in the sea this afternoon. She had felt as if everything was right with the world, as if she’d finally made peace with herself. She’d felt light and happy and free. But as she walked into an Internet café, she felt weighed down with the seriousness of what she and Sam were about to do. Their plans suddenly seemed too irresolute and she’d wished they’d spent longer deciding exactly what was going to happen. Sam’s promise to tell Claire about them at some point in the next twenty-four hours seemed too open to flaws, too lacking in guarantees.

  She bought a bottle of Diet Coke and sat down in the small booth, shivering slightly in the chill of the air conditioning. She wished now that she’d used the computer in the house. Rachel had said she could use it, but perhaps she should trust her first hunch that being somewhere neutral was better.

  She had decided to write to James straight away. If she was honest with James and finished their relationship, then it would be the first step to making her and Sam real.

  She opened her email account, astonished by the amount of messages. She knew her friends were annoyed with her for being such a recluse, but she couldn’t face opening any of them. She felt too disconnected and too guilty. Her life had totally changed. It would be almost impossible to explain to Heather or Roz in writing what had happened since she’d been in Mallorca.

  But she must try to with James. She clicked on the button to compose an email and stared at the cursor on the screen for a long time. There was nothing for it. She would have to tell the truth.

  Now she forced herself to think about James, it shocked her that they’d only parted just a few days ago. She’d been so confused when she’d seen him standing at the poolside in Rachel’s villa, so guilt-ridden when Sam had left, that she’d been tempted to tell James to go. But he hadn’t given her the chance.