13

The air-conditioned reception area was much cooler than the pool terrace had been. So much so that Helen felt underdressed. Goosebumps trickled along her arms. Caro was just a few minutes away now, and thinking about that sent the goosebumps into a flood.

‘I think,’ she said, ‘I’ll just pop up and put something on.’ She looked down at her legs to emphasise the point.

‘Caro’s due any minute, Helen.’

‘I know, but—’

‘You should wait,’ Kay said firmly.

‘Okay.’ And now she was freezing.

‘Go and sit in the sun.’ Kay nodded to the armchairs across the foyer.

Helen didn’t move.

‘It’s not going to be easy, Helen, whatever you’re dressed in.’

‘That’s not really—’ she started, then stopped. Whatever she was going to say would be justifiably blasted away by Kay. Because she was stalling. More than that; she was on the verge of bolting. Huge butterflies were looping the loop in her stomach as the thought of facing Caro again overwhelmed her. She was scared. Scared of another scene, certainly, but also genuinely scared that she wouldn’t be able to overcome her own feelings. That when Caro needed her to be a friend, she wouldn’t be able to be one. ‘I’ll…’ Her voice trailed away and she used her hand instead to point at the armchair.

Kay nodded.

Helen moved away to sit heavily in the warmth of the sand-coloured cushion. She watched as Kay took her phone out, seemed to move onto the next problem; and, watching, Helen felt she would never fully understand or be able to emulate Kay’s level-headed pragmatism. She was like a glacier, silently inching through the valley of the life that had been handed to her. It was something to be admired, and it made Helen feel as reactive and screechy as a firework.

‘Alex,’ Kay mouthed, pointing at her phone.

Helen nodded; she turned her face to the window. It was considerably warmer in this sunlit corner, and her goosebumps were duly melting. Chin on her hand, she looked out to the courtyard, the fountain and the mountains beyond. The idea that she should be sitting here in this paradise, waiting for her friend to come back impregnated with another woman’s baby, felt as unreal as touching the pale sliver of moon that was just appearing beyond the stratosphere. Then again, nothing in her life felt real right now. Lawrence at the top of Everest? Jack ringing from a place that looked like a place she once knew? The only thing that was tangible was the feel of Kaveh’s hands on her body. The thought squeezed her forward into a ball, elbows on knees, head down. How flimsy it all was! How ridiculously fragile that one night with a stranger could have sent her spinning off like this, away from everything she’d been perfectly content to live with for so very long.

She unfurled herself and leaned back. On the coffee table in front of her was a pile of Kaveh’s sailing flyers. Ask for Kaveh. Helen smiled. The shocking cold when she’d jumped into the ocean!

You liar, Helen Winters. You fraud.

As if it would silence the voice in her head, she turned away and stared back at the mountains…content to live with for so very long… Who was she kidding? She hadn’t been content for years. She’d shelved the person she had once been, because the marriage she had made had required that of her. And now, sitting in a pool of Cypriot sunlight, this moment of truthful realisation had her closing her eyes and whispering, ‘No one held a gun to your head. No one made you.’

The buzz of a trapped fly filtered past. Kaveh was real, Cyprus was real, her discontent was very real, and it was time to stop pretending. And Caro? She bit down on her lip. It couldn’t be denied. Out of the two of them, it was Caro who had had the courage to face up to her own unhappy reality. And then attempt to solve it. Beyond that, it wasn’t going to help either of them if Helen refused to step over her line in the sand. She would, and could, do what Caro needed her to do. She would be a friend.

*

Kay dumped her handbag on the reception desk and waved across to Helen, but Helen had her eyes closed. Turning back to the desk, she scooped a wallet, a sunglasses case, her passport, a folded prescription, half a KitKat and a flier for a newly opened car wash out of her bag. Holding her phone by her chin, she said, ‘Honestly, Alex, we went over this a hundred times.’

‘Excuse me.’ The woman behind the desk reached across and moved a rather beautiful orchid away from the debris of Kay’s bag.

‘Sorry,’ Kay mouthed. Something about the exquisite delicacy of the orchid, its butter-yellow petals, made her feel inordinately ashamed. Carefully she gathered everything together, swept it back into her bag and said, ‘I don’t have it. I told you I didn’t… Okay, then… Yes. Go and look… I’ll wait… Yes. I’ll wait.’ She looked up. ‘My son,’ she mouthed at the woman behind the desk, and added, ‘He’s twenty-two.’ Headlines of eight-year-olds left home alone with a family pack of cornflakes flashing through her mind.

The woman nodded, inscrutable.

‘It’s…well…he just sometimes has a few difficulties. If his routine gets interrupted.’

Again the woman nodded.

‘I mean, he has a job.’ She pressed the phone against her ear. There was no need to explain herself or Alex to anyone. Old habits…

‘This is more than my son has,’ the woman said in a voice that matched the ribbed iron skillet of her face. ‘And he is twenty-seven.’

‘Oh.’ Kay smiled sympathetically. ‘Oh. Well, he loves it, actually. My son, I mean. His job.’ And her face brightened, as it did whenever she talked about Alex and his job. He did love it and it had been an absolute godsend. He would, she knew, spend the rest of his working life there. ‘He works in a garden centre and, gosh…’ She reached out to the orchid. ‘He’d love this.’

‘It’s a cymbidium,’ the woman said, her fingers curling protectively around the pot.

‘It’s beautiful… Alex?’ Kay turned her attention back to her phone. ‘Yes, I’m here!… Right… And was it there?… It was. Good. Okay… No, wait. Wait, Alex! I’m going to put you on FaceTime. I want you to see this.’ And turning the camera of her phone around, Kay held it so the orchid filled the screen.

‘That’s a cymbidium.’ Alex’s voice, on speakerphone, was clear. ‘It’s lovely.’

The woman behind the desk beamed.

Her own face flushing with pride, Kay brought the phone back to her ear. ‘Okay, then. No, that’s all. Yes, see you next week.’ She was smiling at the woman, who was smiling back, nodding.

‘I don’t think he will have too many difficulties,’ the woman said as Kay slipped her phone away.

‘Thank you,’ Kay whispered, tears filling her eyes.

The woman handed her a tissue. ‘My name is Marianne.’

‘Kay.’ Kay wiped her eyes. ‘What a lovely name. It’s quite French for—’

‘Cyprus?’ Marianne shrugged. ‘My mother was a big fan of Leonard Cohen.’

Kay laughed. ‘My ex-husband too.’

‘He was too miserable for me,’ Marianne said.

‘Me too! And I mean both of them – my ex and Leonard.’

Marianne put her hands on the desk, leaned forward and laughed out loud. Taking a tissue, she wiped her own eyes and said, ‘So you are enjoying your stay here?’

‘It’s just my first day, but yes.’ She smiled. ‘Yes I am.’

‘You’re here with your friends?’ Marianne said and looked across to Helen.

Kay nodded. ‘That’s right,’ she said. ‘Just a girl’s week away.’ She left it at that. If Marianne knew where Caro had been today, and why she was here – well, that was something that could remain unsaid. ‘I really needed it,’ she gabbled, to fill any gaps in which unsaid things might somehow become said. ‘My mum is not well at all. In fact, she’s gone into a care home for a week.’

If Marianne noticed, she gave nothing away. Her face was impassive as she asked, ‘Does she live with you? Your mother?’

‘No. Well, not far. We live on the same street, so I’m there a lot.’

Marianne nodded grimly. ‘Mine lives with me.’

‘Oh.’ Kay turned to her. ‘That must be nice for you. I admire the culture you have here, where this is normal. It’s not the same for us.’

‘Nice?’ Marianne’s eyebrow flexed like a bodybuilder’s bicep. ‘She’s not even my mother!’ she hissed. ‘She is my husband’s mother. My ex-husband’s. I got rid of him and still I have to look after her!’

Kay’s lips twitched. ‘And I thought it was bad enough that I still have to send mine Christmas cards.’

‘You are right, though.’ Marianne leaned forward. ‘It is the culture. Women are donkeys! Men expect us to carry everything. They are big babies. I should have married my Swedish boyfriend when I had the chance. Then my life would have been different. Very different.’

‘Really?’ Kay wanted to smile. It wasn’t the first time random strangers had told her intimate details. There was obviously something in her face.

‘Or…’ Marianne’s voice was low. She leaned further across the desk, as close as a sinner in a confessional box. ‘I would do what your friend is doing. Not this one,’ she said and nodded at Helen, who was still sitting in a pool of sunshine with her eyes closed. ‘The other one.’

Kay paled.

Marianne straightened up. ‘Why not?’ she said, and shrugged.

Speechless, Kay looked at her. She didn’t have an answer. She did not have an answer.

‘She’s here!’ At the sound of the car, Helen was on her feet, her voice wobblier than an amateur soprano.

Outside in the courtyard, a red Toyota taxi had pulled to a halt behind the fountain.

Marianne withdrew behind the desk, and in slow motion Kay and Helen moved towards the front door, watching as Caro stepped out of the taxi, paid the driver and turned to the hotel.

Helen was first. Opening the door, shaking her head. Trying and failing to find a way of saying something, stretching her arm out to take Caro’s bag.

‘I have it,’ Caro said, without raising her head to look at Helen.

‘I’m sorry, Caro.’ Out it came. She took a step back, hands under her chin like a prayer. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s okay.’

‘It’s not. I—’

‘I’m tired, Helen.’ Caro stood still, her bag swinging. ‘For now, it is.’

Kay stepped forward and took the bag. ‘Did it all go—’

‘It went fine,’ Caro smiled. ‘I’m just really tired. It’s been a roller coaster.’

‘Of course.’ Helen and Kay glanced at each other as they both spoke at once. They were, Helen knew, thinking the same thing. Caro looked absolutely wrung out.

A phone started ringing. They all looked at the bag on Kay’s shoulder.

‘Let me just…’ Caro reached to her bag and took out her phone. ‘I have to take this,’ she said. ‘I just…’ She turned away. ‘Danny?’

‘What the fuck, Caro?’ Through the tiny speaker on Caro’s phone, Danny Abbott’s voice bounced around the marbled reception like a very loud TV.

Everyone, including Marianne, stared at Caro, who had gone as pale as paper.

‘What the fuck was Matt doing releasing that report? He’s not even selling anything! Eighteen per cent, Caro? You know how much that is? That’s £200,000 in one fucking hour. Because the dick releases a report that manages to sound the complete opposite of what it’s meant to say! Fuck, Caro! Why did you leave him alone? You know he can’t wipe his arse if you’re not handing him the paper!’

‘Danny—’

‘I’m trusting you on this, Caro. You told me to trust you and I did.’

‘Danny,’ Caro pleaded. ‘I’m in Cyprus. I’ve been… I haven’t seen the report.’

‘Because I can promise you one thing – if this doesn’t get sorted I’ll be out of Greenway Tech faster than you can say arrivederci. Comprendo, Caro?’

‘Danny.’ Caro put her hand across her mouth. Her eyes had filled with tears.

‘You need to get your ass in front of a fucking screen – pronto! And when I say pronto I mean like—’

As swift as a cat, Helen swiped the phone from Caro’s hand. ‘And you need to watch your language,’ she barked.

‘Helen.’ Caro reached for her phone.

But Kay already had an arm around her waist, steering her away as expertly as a Tesco shopping trolley. ‘You,’ she said, ‘are coming with me.’

‘Who is this? Who am I speaking to? Put Caro back on.’

‘Caro,’ Helen said flatly, ‘is currently unavailable.’

Danny Abbott didn’t speak.

‘Helen,’ Caro whispered over her shoulder. ‘I have to speak to him.’

Helen put her hand over the phone. ‘What you have to do is rest.’

Marianne was out from behind the desk. A moving steam iron, hissing and clicking in a grey shift dress that strained across her back like stretched cling film. Now she was opening the door through to the elevators, glaring at the phone in Helen’s hands, at the unseen Danny Abbott.

‘Helen…’

The glass door swung shut, cutting off Caro’s voice.

‘Right,’ Helen said, sitting herself down.

‘Just put Caro back on.’

‘I will not,’ Helen said. She looked down at her leg. She was beginning to tan.

‘Listen, darlin’, I don’t think you understand—’

Darlin! Helen’s lips pinched in amusement. ‘I’m not your darling, Mr Abbott,’ she said. ‘It is Mr Abbott, isn’t it?’

He didn’t answer.

‘My name is Helen. I’m Caro’s friend and we’re on holiday together. Right now she’s—’

‘I don’t give a rat’s arse where you are.’

Helen took Caro’s phone and held it in front of her like a hand mirror. Her mouth curled up. She was fifty years old. Twenty years’ experience of dealing with children, eight years on the frontline of a doctor’s surgery. Danny Abbott had picked the wrong fight! She brought the phone back to her ear and lifted her chin. ‘Please,’ she said, in full-on receptionist mode, ‘don’t talk over me, Mr Abbott. Hasn’t anyone ever told you how rude that is?’

Silence.

She smiled. She could see him now, sulking in the corridor.

‘And I’d appreciate it if we could leave out the swearing as well.’

More silence.

Then, because she was enjoying this so much, she went for it. ‘Would you speak to your mother like that?’

‘What the…’ But Danny Abbott’s words twirled themselves up in knots of astonishment before he could even begin to straighten them out.

At the other end of the line, Helen leaned back.

Eventually the spluttering dripped away into another silence and then a long drawn-in breath. Danny Abbott coughed. ‘I need to speak to Caro,’ he muttered.

‘I understand,’ Helen said. ‘You’re worried about your investments. But I’m worried about Caro’s health. She’s tired and she needs to rest.’

‘This is fu…’ A short, sharp splutter of breath flew down the line. ‘Ridiculous,’ Danny hissed. He sounded as if his jaw had been wired.

‘Have you ever been to Cyprus, Mr Abbott?’ The question came out of nowhere, and at the same time sounded practised and rehearsed.

‘Are you going to put Caro back on?’

‘It really is the most wonderful place,’ she continued.

‘If you’re not, I’ll hang up.’

But he didn’t, and so Helen talked on, because it came so naturally to her and because this was what they did. Any time a distressed child or an anxious pensioner needed distracting, Helen or Tina or any of the girls from the surgery would spring into action with this verbal soothing. Of course it felt familiar. So on and on she went. Describing the mountains and the vineyards and, soon after, the sailing. And as she talked, Danny Abbott’s silences lost their hum of hostility and deepened with a calm she could almost see. Until she got to the part about how she had helped right a capsized boat, at which there was a guffaw of uninhibited laughter. And it didn’t feel strange at all telling someone she had never met of this stupendous achievement. In fact, someone she had never met felt like exactly the right person to tell. ‘I was,’ she finished, ‘very proud of myself.’

‘I bet you were,’ Danny Abbott laughed again. There was a long silence and then he said, ‘I haven’t been sailing in years.’

Helen leaned forward. ‘Caro’s had a difficult day, Danny. Really difficult, actually.’

Danny didn’t speak.

‘Plus she’s far more use to you rested. I’m sure you’ll agree.’

‘Of course.’ Danny paused. ‘Of course she should rest.’

‘Shall I tell her you’ll call tomorrow?’

‘Yes. Do that.’ He paused. ‘Helen? It is Helen, isn’t it?’

‘It is.’

‘What’s the name of the place you’re staying at? Don’t worry, I’m not coming out there. Just what’s the name of the place?’

She told him the name of the hotel. The conversation finished with Danny wishing them all a pleasant stay and a shy suggestion that the next time she was down in London, perhaps they could meet and laugh about this over lunch?

‘In your dreams,’ Helen whispered as she ended the call. She leaned forward, held out her finger and watched as a ladybird climbed on, shook out its wings and flew away. Ships? She could obviously still launch them.