Eva
Brian insisted on driving her to Benalmadena Pueblo, though she begged him to drop her at the bus station in La Linea, or better still, in Algeciras where the buses ran continuously along the coastal highway. There was time enough, but he was adamant. They got across the frontier without the border guards of either country so much as glancing at their passports. Brian drove through La Linea towards the motorway.
She took her phone out of her bag and tried to call Sebastian for the third time. He still did not pick up the call. Surely he was ignoring her on purpose, punishing her for her ‘affair’ with Brian. How would he feel about what she was doing right now, in a car with the man himself, on their way east along the Spanish coast? She would let Mimi tell him.
Finally, Brian broke the silence between them. ‘Now for heaven’s sake, Eva, tell me what’s going on. Why that drastic amputation of your lovely hair?’
‘I’m having a break for a while,’ she said quietly. That’s why she didn’t want to have him drive her. She didn’t want to explain her predicament to him. Not because he wouldn’t be understanding, but he would take a stand, offering to go with her, protect her. Or just plain refuse to let her go. He was just that kind of man.
He reached over and patted her hand. ‘Are you sure you’re not overreacting about something? Maybe you ought to give Sebastian more of a chance; you haven’t known him all that long. Running away is often a knee-jerk reaction.’
She grimaced. ‘Yeah, I’m a jerk all right!’
‘I know he doesn’t drive, so when you’ve sulked long enough I’ll come and bring you back.’
She turned to smile at him. He was a gem of a man, and in a different life she might even have loved him. He was down-to-earth, rational, sensible and, above all, humble. All the things that Sebastian was not. But she’d fallen for Sebastian because of his passion, his originality and his charisma. He had a fanatical belief in what he was doing, he was dynamic and enthusiastic and grasped life’s opportunities like no-one she’d ever known. He made her feel alive, inspired, but she acknowledged the other feelings he brought out in her. Often she felt low on the scale of his priorities and his energy sometimes drained her, as if in some strange way his own vitality were topped up by sucking it out of his surroundings, from the people close at hand. His increasingly domineering attitude towards Mimi was another concern, reminding her all too often of the tyranny in her own past. At least, with Sebastian, it had never been directed towards her.
‘I appreciate it, Brian. But for now I’ve got to get away.’
He turned to scrutinise her face for a second. ‘Are you perhaps going to meet someone?’
She paused. Why not tell the truth? It was the lack of truth that was the root cause of all her problems.
‘Yes, my husband.’
‘Your husband?’
‘I’m hoping the bastard will agree to a divorce.’
Brian turned to her then shook his head. ‘Do you want to tell me about it?’
‘Not really. The talking cure never worked for me, and for you it’s better not to know.’
They passed Sotogrande and stayed on the toll road where the traffic was sparse. At the brow of a hill, just at the last moment before leaving Cadiz province, she turned around to look behind her. There, in the far distance, was the Rock of Gibraltar. It stood like some other-worldly megalith, rising straight up from the sea and piercing the sky. She looked at it in wonder. Shrouded in mist, it was like nothing she’d ever seen. Would she ever go back there?
They passed over the hill and it disappeared from view.
She had sometimes wondered if she could turn back and face Adrian? Now, finally, her fury and indignation had awakened her courage. If she was ever to have a life, she would have to face him first. She wanted to face him. She was never going to run again. Ever! Wherever he’d called from, wherever he lurked, she’d wait for him until he showed up. Perhaps bruises would be all the penalty she’d have to pay. He’d given her bruises enough, and often. Three tooth implants, concussion a few times, a broken arm and plenty of stitches.
‘When will I see you again?’ said Brian.
‘I don’t know.’
‘I expect you to show up for work if I need you.’
She smiled wanly. ‘Look. There is the sign for Benalmadena.’
They stopped at a service station right off the motorway. While Brian went to the counter to order some coffee, she rifled through her capacious handbag. She took out her compact mirror and stared at herself. She looked so different, and she was glad. That angelic quality that her waist-length hair had lent her was gone. This new short style made her look gutsy and rebellious, much more in keeping with the person she’d become in the last few hours. She took out her comb and felt her hair bounce back when she combed it. The lightness of it felt wonderful, actually, like a burden shed.
She dropped the comb back and took out the package that Mimi had pressed on her. Was it a favourite book of wisdom, perhaps? However, handling it, she noticed that the contents moved in a strange way. Popping off the rubber bands she unwrapped the plastic.
All she could do was gape at the open package on her lap. Money! A huge sum, by the looks of it. With a trembling hand, she picked up one of the two bundles and searched through the bills. Every single one was a five hundred euro note. She shook her head in shock. Where the hell did all this come from? How had Mimi laid her hands on such a vast amount of money? Was it stolen? A drug deal? She must have held up a bank or something! What sort of secret life did this young woman have? She’d always been dark and unfathomable. But this?
She glanced up to see if she was alone. No-one was sitting nearby. Quickly she counted the notes. There were ten to each bundle. Twenty times five-hundred. That meant there was ten thousand euros on her lap. Ten thousand!
She sat there, stunned, until she saw Brian approaching with a tray. She wrapped up the bundle, popped on the rubber bands and quickly shoved it in her bag. No wonder Mimi had wanted her to zip it up.
‘As soon as we’ve had our coffee I’m going to say goodbye to you, Brian. I want you to turn around and go straight back.’
He quietly took the coffee cups and some packets of sandwiches off the tray. He pushed one of the cups towards her.
‘Milk?’ he said, though he knew she didn’t. ‘Sugar?’
‘Did you hear me, Brian?’
He put down the spoon with a clunk on the table and looked up at her with his deep blue eyes. ‘Do you honestly think I’m going to leave you here…with your scruffy suitcase to carry? There’s nothing around here.’
‘I’ll call for a taxi. I’m going to lie low and wait, and I just don’t want anyone to know where I’m staying; anyone, Brian. When you’re in as much trouble as I am…you just don’t want anyone you care about involved. Can you understand that?’ She reached over and cupped his cheek in her hand. ‘You’re a lovely and decent man and I care about you.’
‘There is obviously more to this than just asking nicely for a divorce. I don’t like the sound of it, but I’ll have to trust you know what you’re doing.’ He knew her well enough by now, but a moment later he said, ‘I have a surplus of money in the bank, Eva. If you need some I can…’
‘Stop it. Really, I’ll be okay.’
They sat for a while looking out of the window. The Spanish costas spread below them, a far-reaching urban sprawl inhabited mainly by sun-starved expats. How very different it felt from Gibraltar which – admittedly – had its tourist façade of tacky Britishness, but was layered with history, peculiarities and mystique.
She drank down the last of her coffee. She’d not been able to touch her sandwich, but out of consideration for Brian she put it into her bag for later consumption. They got up and went outside. The sun had begun to set and a mild wind cooled her. They stood by a railing and watched lights going on along the coast.
‘There is nothing stopping you from giving me a call. You’ve got my number.’
‘All right, Brian. I’ll keep you posted.’
‘I’ll be waiting.’
She turned to say good bye and, on impulse, threw her arms around his neck. He hugged her so close, with such genuine concern, she almost wished she could have stayed there.
The woman at the counter told her that Benalmadena Pueblo was only fifteen minutes’ walk from there. She set off in the sunset along the slip road, passing a huge Tibetan style stupa sitting incongruously on the Spanish hillside. She peered at the driver of every car that came up from behind, and every so often she turned to survey the road behind her. There was no-one there. She knew it was sheer paranoia. It was hardly possible that Adrian had been so close he’d been behind them, following them here. Was it?