Seventeen
June 28th
Ellis bank balance: (￡ 4,723.76) Overdrawn.
90-Day Rule Tally: Emily: 28 Mark: 14
Beneath Alex’s bare feet, the grass – much coarser than in England – felt spiky. It was like walking on a carpet of steel wool. Something stabbed his big toe. He lifted his foot and, hopping on one leg, ran a hand over it, brushing away a pine needle, the whole time scouring potential hiding places for a small dog. Eight weeks in Sagres had rekindled his fondness for the dogs.
‘I’ve got her,’ he called out, spying Tosca in a water gulley by the far end of the pool. ‘You little trouble monster,’ he said, approaching the dog, ‘you’ve had three of us out here searching for you.’ He picked his way into the gulley, treading carefully over fallen pinecones and baking hot rocks. ‘What you got there, girl?’
The dog’s snout was pointed at a large, flat, dark-coloured stone. Alex stepped closer. The stone moved. Tosca reared up and backwards and then pounced.
Alex shrieked, grabbing the dog. ‘Tosca, leave.’
He heard soft thuds behind him, then his mother’s voice. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Tosca’s playing with a toad,’ said Alex, pulling the dog away by the collar.
He scrambled out of the gulley, one-handed, the other arm straining to keep a grip on Tosca, the dog wrenching his arm muscles trying to return to the fun.
Jess reached down to help.
‘Ugh, that’s ginormous,’ she said, shuddering. ‘You don’t get toads like that in Barnstaple.’
His mother scooped up Tosca, cradling the dog in her arms.
‘Mum, do you think we should check with a vet?’ asked Alex. ‘Make sure Tosca didn’t catch anything from the toad?’
His mother’s mouth fell open. ‘Do you think Portuguese toads are poisonous?’ she gasped.
Suddenly, Jess’s phone was in her hands. Seconds later she looked up, a horrified expression on her face.
‘Vet, fast, Alex, this may be serious,’ she screeched, jumping down into the gulley. She yelled back up, ‘I’ll take some photos. Call the vet, tell them we’re on our way.’
Alex rescued the toad in a dustpan and pushed it into the safety of Tommy’s garden, and the three of them piled into the Bentley. Alex drove, listening to the two women cooing over Tosca, who was wrapped in a towel and positioned between the women on the back seat. His mother was crying. Alex accelerated. His mother loved that little dog. He could hear Jess whispering words of encouragement to his mother and the patient. She was a cat lover; he had not expected her to agree to spend her three-day mini break at Villa Anna but thought she must be mellowing. He wasn’t surprised – Tosca was an adorable little dog.
A bus pulled out, and Alex slowed down. He wriggled in his seat, leaned backwards, squinting around the exhaust fumes. ‘Mum, I can’t see. Is it safe to overtake?’
‘Go. Now!’ Jess shouted.
Feeling an inner stab of pride for his girlfriend’s decisiveness, Alex rammed the accelerator and pulled out. ‘Mum, you must get rid of this car. It’s downright dangerous out here.’
Alex followed directions to the vet. Taking up two bays in the carpark, he yanked open the back door, took the dog from his mother’s arms, and sprinted inside.
He might’ve been walking into a spa clinic. The lights were dimmed, there was a smell of incense, and soft music was playing. Alex didn’t feel calmed by any of this. He shouted, ‘Emergency. She’s been playing with a poisonous toad.’
Jess was panting beside him. ‘I’ve brought pictures.’
They were ushered into a cubicle, and a woman in a white coat with a stethoscope round her neck followed them in. Alex placed the dog on the examination table, ruffled her ears, and stood back, hoping it wasn’t the last time he’d fondle her. His mother was still sobbing. Jess pushed past him and stroked the little dog’s side. She bent and kissed Tosca’s head, murmuring into her ear, ‘Good girl, Tosca, good girl. You’re doing so well, so brave.’
Alex pulled his girlfriend away from the dog. ‘Let the vet examine her.’
He reached for his mother’s hand, felt her clawing at his. Jess gripped his other arm. Alex chewed his lip, his eyes shifting between the white-coated vet and Tosca. Surely, he’d got her here in time. He felt a rush of love, for the dog, for his mother ... and, he realized, for his new girlfriend.
When they got back to the Villa, Jess dragged Alex out for a walk. It was a hot day, and they kept to the shady side of the road. He was becoming quite fond of this country, and he loved sharing it with Jess.
‘Shall we change our flights and stay a few more days?’ he suggested, taking her hand.
She shook her head. ‘I can’t, Alex. I’ve got a year-end coming up, and the client’s relying on me to finish his accounts.’
‘Ask someone else to cover?’
She dropped his hand. ‘That’s not right. I wouldn’t do that to him. He deserves a proper service.’ She turned the pressure on him, asking how his plans for a summer job were progressing.
He squeezed her shoulder. ‘Sorted. I’m giving surfing lessons on Woolacombe beach.’
The inflatable mattress butted against the edge of the pool. Alex stretched out a foot and kicked, propelling his body away. He relaxed, letting his hands dangle in the cool water, the early afternoon sun burning his skin. His girlfriend was inside, lying down in the air-conditioned bedroom.
He heard his mother call out, ‘Just collected Tosca. No lasting damage, but I want to keep her inside today. Have you got sunscreen on, Alex? You’re not in Devon.’
Alex used his fingers to steer himself round so the sun wasn’t in his face. ‘Mum?’ he hollered.
‘Alex,’ came the answering call.
‘Can I stay in Ovington Square if I want to get away from Devon for a few days?’ There was no response. He cupped his hands, scooping up water and dribbling it onto his hot chest. ‘Mum, is that a problem?’ If his father wasn’t staying there, why would there be a problem if he went to London? Alex sat up, dangling his legs in the water. The ends of the float shot up either side of him, encasing him in plastic. He pushed down the front end. His mother was standing at the side of the pool, wringing her hands together. She wasn’t looking at him.
‘Don’t make any plans,’ she said. ‘You must check with me first. It might be possible. I just don’t know yet.’ She turned and walked off.
What did she mean by that? He paddled to the side, jumped off the float, and waded up the steps. Wrapping a towel round his waist, Alex dripped his way up and into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, grabbed two beers, then rummaged around and found cheese, bread, and a jar of olives. He pulled open cupboards, tossing crisps, nuts, and biscuits onto the pile, then loaded his picnic onto a tray. He heard a throat being noisily cleared behind him.
‘Lunch not sufficient for you?’ asked his father sarcastically.
‘Fancied a snack,’ Alex mumbled.
‘I ate less than that for lunch, and I don’t fancy a snack. I don’t have time for a snack,’ his father’s voice rose. ‘ I have work to do ! Work that pays for all the food you eat.’
‘What’s going on in here?’ demanded Emily, elbowing her way past Mark, her eyes glued to the towering tray of food. ‘Mark, I thought you were on your way to the post office. Alex, put that cheese back, I need it for sandwiches.’
Alex glowered at each parent in turn, shoved the tray aside, and picked up the two beers. ‘This is worse than being at boarding school. I can’t wait to spend time with a normal family.’ He marched down the stairs and flopped onto a chair in the shade. After downing the first beer, he opened the second bottle. He heard footsteps, then the clitter clatter of dog’s paws on tiles.
‘Alex,’ said his mother gently.
He took a swig of beer. ‘Yeah?’ He didn’t look at her.
‘What did you mean by that? A normal family?’
He rubbed the bottle along his forehead, enjoying the kiss of cold glass. ‘Didn’t mean to offend you. Do you think he stalks me? Does he get a kick out of criticizing me all the time?’
She sat down next to him, placed a hand on his arm. ‘He’s not finding life easy just now. Cut him some slack.’
Alex raised his eyes to his mother. ‘Any chance of a loan?’
‘Alex,’ she said in a tone she usually reserved for the dogs when they did something naughty. ‘This has to stop.’
He squeezed his eyes tight. ‘One last time. Please, you’ve no idea what it’s like to be short of money.’
Mark glowered at his silent phone. Why was Pedro always so difficult to get hold of? The receptionist had promised the lawyer would return Mark’s call in twenty minutes, but that was over an hour ago. Mark gritted his teeth as an outburst of screeching echoed through his study; it sounded like a seagull was circling the pool. There was a loud whoop followed by a crashing noise, then more squealing. A dog started yapping. Mark held his palms flat against his ears. It was no better; he pulled them away, wondering which was worse, paying guests or family. The door slid open behind him with a whoosh.
‘Yes?’ he snapped.
‘Tosca’s going to be fine.’
‘Right. Big bill?’
‘I settled it. I want to spend time with Alex. I won’t see him again for two months. Can you take back trying to open a post-box please?’
Mark swivelled in his chair. Emily was flapping a sheaf of papers at him. ‘If I pick up the post-box, could you do something for me? Could you ask Jess to pipe down? The squealing ...’
Emily rolled her eyes and dropped the papers onto his desk. ‘Two days and then they’ll be gone. Put some earplugs in if you find it that offensive.’
He grunted, elbowing the papers to one side. His phone rang and he snatched it up. ‘Pedro!’
‘Mr Ellis, how can I help?’
‘Any progress on the hot food licence?’ He couldn’t keep crossing his fingers hoping Emily didn’t check, but how often does a sole trader check the copy on their website? He’d taken a precaution; there was now a very similar photograph of breakfast, but this one showed a plate of pastries. What would happen if the council did a spot check and found his wife cooking? He didn’t dare ask Pedro.
‘These matters take time, Mr Ellis. Anything else?’
‘We’re still booked in for our residency certificates on Friday, aren’t we?’
‘Yes, Mr Ellis. 10 o’clock. I will meet you on the steps of the town hall.’
‘Thanks. One last thing, Pedro. How do I get hold of you if I need you in a hurry? Your assistant told me you would call me back in twenty minutes.’
‘And I did, Mr Ellis. But these were Portuguese minutes,’ he said, chuckling.
‘I’m serious.’
‘Mr Ellis, I will put you on my special list.’
Hearing his son calling out to Emily prompted Mark to call his mother. The phone rang and rang, and he was starting to think she must’ve gone out when he heard a wheezy voice say, ‘Gwen Ellis.’
‘Mum?’
‘Boyo!’
‘You sound exhausted. What’s wrong?’
‘Mustn’t grumble. Hot is it out there? Baking here. There’s a heatwave, and Deidre and I are making the most of it, we’ve only got it for two days. Still, that’s what we love about it, isn’t it, the fact that it’s temporary. Make the most of it before it rains again.’ She coughed; the sound became muffled, and he imagined her holding her hand over the old-fashioned receiver. His brow furrowed.
‘Come out and see us.’
‘What would happen to my tomato plants? I don’t trust Deidre to water them properly, they need to be done first thing of a morning.’ His mother let out a sharp gasp.
Mark’s fingers tightened around his phone. ‘They still haven’t given you a date for the op, have they?’
‘Sorry about that, love. Must be the hay fever.’
‘I’m worried. Are you sure you’re, OK?’
‘Fine, love. Now tell me what’s going on with you, eh? When you coming to see me?’
He groaned. He wanted to curl his arms round his mother and hug in that baking smell. Once they were resident, he would celebrate with a trip to Essex. He pictured turning up unannounced on the Chalkwell doorstep, even though he knew it wasn’t in his tax days allowance and wasn’t going to happen.