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THE ROOM WAS PITCH black, but it felt like someone had opened the curtains and let in the daylight. Michelle vaguely recalled experiencing this sensation only once before. Like today, she’d woken up feeling refreshed for no apparent reason. The previous night she’d dozed off to sleep as usual and then, in what seemed like five minutes, had woken up six hours later in a different world. She was wide awake. It felt amazing.
Excitement caught the back of her throat as she turned to share her good news with Sara. She was still fast asleep. Unable to stay in bed a second longer, Michelle tiptoed into the bathroom, got dressed and gathered up the beach towels.
‘Mam. Shhh, middle of the night...’
‘Da da da daaa. Da, da, da daaa...’ she sang. ‘See you later. Ba rumpababumbum...’
‘Maaaaammmm, shuduuup... Bloody hell.’
As she sat at her usual table overlooking the bay, Michelle couldn’t stop smiling. Was this how ‘normal’ people felt all the time? It was as if she’d put on a pair of magical glasses and could now see everything clearly, instead of fumbling around in the fog. She had no idea how to replicate the feeling, but she was determined to enjoy it while it lasted.
She checked her phone. Not a peep from Fermín. Life was good.
***
SARA LOOKED UP FROM her magazine and tutted at Michelle. ‘What’s wrong with you?’
‘Nothing.’ Michelle sat up on her lounger, lay back down again, and then leaned over to rummage in her bag. Her earlier elation had turned to nervousness on her return to the hotel.
‘You’re all fidgety and your head’s on a swivel.’
Gemma turned to inspect Michelle and smiled. ‘How did it go with Álvaro after you left us?’
‘Aha,’ said Sara. ‘You’re looking for him, aren’t you? Oh my God, you didn’t sleep with him, did you? Mother, I’ll be so embarrassed if you did. You’ll be the talk of the hotel.’
‘Of course I didn’t,’ said Michelle. ‘But, I would if I wanted to. Not that it’s any of your business, he walked me to my door and left. To be honest, I didn’t want to actually speak to him. I just wanted to watch him.’
‘Weird stalker-woman,’ said Sara.
‘I wanted to come away to chill out, but now I daren’t relax in case I bump into him. And some of the staff saw us chatting last night.’ Michelle’s stomach churned. ‘I’m worried about what they might be thinking.’
Álvaro didn’t seem to be around. She decided to lay low and try to avoid him for the rest of the day. ‘Does anyone fancy a look down the beach?’ she asked.
‘Not really,’ said Gemma. ‘I prefer it around the pool. Why don’t you and my mam go?’
Judy raised an eyebrow. ‘You mean you prefer to stay around the waiters. I thought I might pop over to see Emilio. They’re short-staffed today. Do you mind?’
‘Short-staffed? What’s that got to do with you?’ said Gemma.
‘I’d like to help out. It might be fun.’ Judy applied some lip gloss and scrunched her hair.
‘You’re supposed to be on holiday,’ said Sara. She turned to Gemma and shook her head. ‘Those two are strange.’
‘No, it’s fine. It was just a suggestion, not really bothered about the beach.’ Michelle lay back on her lounger and closed her eyes.
‘I think I’ll nip across now if no one minds.’ Judy reached for her bag. ‘See you later.’ Her diamante flip flops sparkled in the sun as she darted off.
Michelle was irritated with herself for spoiling her one energetic day with yet another man-related shenanigan. At some point during her internal haranguing, she wore herself out and fell asleep.
***
‘YOU ARE VERY BEAUTIFUL,’ whispered a familiar husky voice into Michelle’s ear.
She almost jumped off the sun lounger, sending one of her FitFlops shooting over to Sara’s sunbed.
‘I scared you again, so sorry.’ Álvaro stood up from where he’d been crouching by her side. ‘You were snoring a little,’ he laughed. He took the FitFlop from Sara’s outstretched hand and put it on Michelle’s foot.
Gemma hid her face behind her magazine, but Michelle could see her shoulders shaking.
Sara was openly convulsing, eyes screwed up and saliva dripping from her mouth. ‘Nice one, Mam,’ squeaked Sara. ‘That’s made my day.’
Álvaro greeted the girls cordially with his usual toothy grin. He clicked his fingers and drew an air-circle over the group. As if by magic, a waiter appeared with a round of drinks.
Michelle wiped the dripping perspiration from her eyes and looked up at him from her lounger. ‘You must get hot in your clothes.’ What a bloody inane thing to say. Think, think. Say something cool. Oh God... She suddenly felt naked in her bikini. Without losing eye contact, and while continuing with the idiotic small talk, she surreptitiously groped on the ground for her sarong and slid it over her midriff. He laughed, leaned over and playfully grabbed a handful of her flesh.
This could not possibly get any worse.
‘You are very sexy. Don’t hide your body,’ he said, his face inches from hers, his almost-black eyes intense and penetrating.
Sara failed to suppress a squeal.
‘I have to go to our other hotel now, but I’ll see you later.’ He kissed her cheek and gently caressed her shoulder with his hand. Then he strode off, his shoes clipping at the terrace.
Sara leaned over Michelle, and in a low, husky voice whispered, ‘J’adore.’
Michelle couldn’t bring herself to see the funny side. ‘That’s French, Sara,’ she said from beneath the sarong, which she’d pulled over her whole body, including her head.
Despite the horror of it all, as she lay curled up in the foetal position beneath the sarong, she could feel the lingering sensation of his light touch on her shoulder and his lips on her cheek. A tingle ran down her spine.
The hilarity over, Sara and Gemma disappeared over to the bar. Michelle settled down with her book to see what Sherry Argov had to say about how to get men to fall in love with you. With Álvaro away, she was able to relax without worrying he’d manifest from nowhere at the most inopportune moment.
Unfortunately, her mind was now free to stress about the Great North Run and Dan. Pushing thoughts of his Childhoodchums photograph from her mind, she pictured him training for the run. She smiled at the mental image of his imposing, muscular body in his sports gear. She hoped he was still doing the race, but feared he’d bring Penny to spectate – a humiliation she could do without. And what if he wanted the romantic overnight stay that they’d booked for after the run for himself and Penny? No, she reasoned, he’d have expected her to have cancelled it. She’d thought about it, then decided to use it herself – if she managed to finish the run, she’d deserve a night in a luxury hotel.
Michelle practiced greeting him, something nonchalant was called for – Hi Dan, great to see you... How have you been? Sorry, I meant to email but I’ve been so busy lately. How’s Tamara? He’d look at her with that familiar little tilt of his head and a glint in his eye, and she’d be able to tell just how much he’d missed her. And that things with Penny weren’t as good as he’d made out when they’d last seen each other.
She’d have to buy a new running outfit, perhaps something in black, with a small tasteful pink emblem that she could match up with some trainers with a pink stripe. She looked down at her midriff, she was piling weight back on. No wonder Álvaro had been able to grab a good handful. It was this damned all-inclusive holiday. She wanted to be fitter and more fabulous than the last time Dan had seen her, not fatter and frumpier. She did a quick calculation in her head: eight weeks remaining. Looking on the positive side, she was much fitter than she used to be, and there was still enough time left to pull off fabulous.
Her mobile rang. Fermín’s number flashed up on the screen. ‘Go away,’ she said aloud as she rejected the call and placed the phone on the ground between the loungers. Moments later it pinged with a text from him.
Were are yoo? I demand to no.
She ignored it. Then she changed her mind, knowing he’d harass her all day if she didn’t reply. At work, she lied.
Were are yoo? Yoo tell me now!
This time she did ignore it.
Again, it pinged. NOW! Tell me yoo.
Michelle squinted at the screen, rage somersaulting around inside her. The nerve of that bloody man. She switched the ringer to a quiet vibrate and returned to her book. For the next hour, she attempted to read about how to make men respect her, to the sound of a constant stream of vibrating texts from a man who had zero respect for her. It didn’t help that the more she read, the more pathetic she realised her plans to try to regain Dan’s interest were. Somehow her phone managed to get it’s ping back without being reset.
She flung down her book and grappled beneath the lounger for the mobile. ‘That’s it.’ She marched to the hotel boundary, placed it on the little wall, picked up a rock and bashed it to bits. ‘Now shut up.’
A passing elderly couple gave her wary glances and a wide berth.
Back at the sun loungers, Michelle carefully deposited the shrapnel remains of her phone into her bag – so as not to injure anyone walking around barefoot – and settled down to read again. Just as she was getting to the crux of why she attracted – no, practically encouraged – men to treat her like crap, she heard an angry voice shouting, ‘Sara. Meeshel. Were are yoo?’
She froze. No, it couldn’t be... Her head shot up. She gawped in disbelief at the sight of Fermín, storming around the terrace, head turning from side to side, eyes darting in all directions, as he searched for them. This cannot be happening. She watched, mortified, as he strode over to the open-air entertainment area, climbed the steps onto the stage and stood in the middle of it, hands on hips, shouting for them at the top of his voice. People were looking and pointing.
Michelle grabbed her sarong and stood up. She caught Sara’s eye at the bar and signalled for her to get inside, out of the way. Sara was rooted to the spot, aghast at the sight of her father making a spectacle of himself.
When Fermín spotted Michelle, he marched down the steps towards her. She managed to flee to the back corner of the terrace and tuck herself behind two palm trees, away from the glare of the other holidaymakers, before he reached her.
He bounded up, exhaling noisily through his nostrils and glaring. ‘Yoo. Why yoo no in England? Why you no answer me? Estúpida yoo.’
Michelle shook with rage. She hadn’t seen him for at least four years, but he hadn’t changed one bit. The very sight of him reignited old hateful feelings. He was wearing what could have been the same white T-shirt and blue jeans as the last time. He had the same short layered hairstyle he’d had for over twenty years, except it was now greying at the temples. And on his face, the same arrogant sneer that made her want to slap him and never stop. She looked down at his feet and grimaced. He had on the type of blue and white striped beach sandals she hated almost as much as his stumpy hairy toes.
Her voice trembled with anger. ‘How dare you come here. How dare you.’
‘I no understand. Espeak espanish.’ He pulled some papers from a little blue satchel. ‘Toma, here, yoo take. Yoo read,’ he said waving them in her face. ‘The numbers, please.’
Michelle batted his hand away. ‘This debt is not mine. I have spoken to your solicitor.’
His eyes flashed with fury. ‘Sí, I no this.’ He rummaged in the bag and thrust a pen at her. ‘Please. I lose my apartamento. I no have money. Yoo old apartamento.’
‘No, I didn’t even live there.’
‘Sí, yoo live. You pay. I give yoo one day, when I have money.’
Sara burst out from the other side of the palm trees, her face streaming with tears. A worried Gemma followed close behind.
‘Mam, I couldn’t see where you went. Are you all right?’ She turned to her father. ‘Why. Are. You. Here? Go away.’
Fermín gasped in delight, scooped Sara up and swung her around. ‘Hola, pequenajica, mi chica preciosa. My dochter, I lof yoo.’
Michelle could see by Sara’s screwed up face he was hurting her with his tight grip. ‘Get off her,’ she shouted, pulling at his arms.
‘Put me down, you idiot,’ wheezed Sara.
Gemma stepped forward then paused. ‘I’m going to get someone.’
Sara tried to free her arms. ‘Dad, I said put me down.’
Fermín kept spinning her and laughing. ‘It ees fun, like wen yoo little chica.’
It was exactly this type of stunt that had given Sara her fear of heights. At three years old, she’d been fearless – getting into trouble at play group for dancing, no-handers, on the top of the slide. By the time she was four, she daren’t go upstairs at home without someone holding her hand. Her stupid excuse of a father had picked her up and swung her around and around, refusing to stop even when she started to cry because, ‘It ees fun’.
Michelle clawed at his arms, swearing in fluent Spanish as she tried to force him to stop. ‘What is wrong with you? Suéltala, let her go. You stupid man. Can’t you see she doesn’t like it?’ She kicked his leg with her FitFlop.
Fermín finally set her down. He shot Michelle an angry glare, then he grinned at Sara and said, ‘Mammy witch.’
Sara shoved him away. ‘For God’s sake.’ She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. ‘You’re not right in the head.’
Fermín turned to Michelle. ‘Yoo sign.’ He held out his mobile phone to Sara. ‘Plees, yoo photo of Mammy name on the paper. And, Daddy in the photo.’
‘No. Ni hablar. Absolutely not,’ said Michelle.
‘Dad, why don’t you listen to us. Ever?’
‘I esorry, I no understand, darlink,’ he said to Sara. He turned to Michelle. ‘Escucha, listen. I lose my apartamento. Yoo help. Yoo my wife. I give yoo money, later.’
Michelle grabbed the papers. Copies of the ones his solicitor had sent her. ‘What kind of bloody fool do you think I am?’ There, once more was the form requesting her bank account details to repay the money. ‘You’re an, absolute fraudulent bastard.’
She explained, in Spanish this time, what she had sent to the bank and the Ayuntamiento in Pamplona. He already knew. She assumed he was trying to disprove her accusations by getting her bank details, to lend weight to his ridiculous claims. It didn’t make sense to Michelle, but he was obviously grasping at straws.
Fermín watched in horror as she calmly tore the documents in half and then carried on shredding them into tiny scraps with a crazed gusto. She gathered up the bits from the ground, scrunched them into a ball and thrust it into his hands. ‘Go away,’ she shouted.
‘Yoo hear me,’ he said, throwing the bits of paper to the ground. He pulled out a fresh set of documents from his bag.
‘No. I will not sign. I will not pay your debt. How dare you.’
Fermín glared at her with an arrogance that showed that, despite their divorce and the fraudulent debt, he’d believed she would agree to pay.
How the hell did I give him that impression? ‘No. No. No.’
Gemma appeared, out of breath and flanked by two hotel security guards. ‘There he is.’
The security guards manhandled Fermín out of the hotel.
Michelle, Sara and Gemma followed behind and watched from the foyer as Fermín was deposited in the car park. He shot them one last glance over his shoulder before he turned on his beach sandal, jumped into an old yellow Seat five hundred and screeched away.
‘Mam,’ said Sara. ‘What on earth did you ever see in him?’
‘I have absolutely no idea. But don’t either of you ever dare settle for a man who shows you anything less than the utmost respect.’
Gemma went off to fetch Judy, while Sara and Michelle returned to collect their belongings from the terrace. As they reached the loungers, Michelle heard a mobile phone vibrate. She peered under her sun bed and picked up her phone. A text from Gemma – asking if Judy had left her mobile there. Michelle reached into her bag and pulled out a handful of shrapnel. ‘Oh dear.’
