Chapter 28
Present day
Yesterday was excruciating. After Tig had finished her story, I plastered a smile on my face and told everyone I was going to check on Mum and Dad.
I hurried away, paranoid that Mark would try to follow me, but wisely, he stayed away.
If only Jake hadn’t seen us, I wouldn’t have had to concoct that stupid story for Yan. Then, years later, Yan brought up the famous Night of the Power Cut in front of Tig, and I’d had to double down on the Leo lie.
I’ve regretted what happened with Mark for years. We were in there for what, thirty minutes? But that half-hour unravelled my whole life.
I wish I’d been able to pretend it never happened, like Mark seemed to do, but the guilt started to eat me alive. I couldn’t stay with Leo. But I couldn’t tell him why I wanted to break up, either.
At first, I avoided him and made up excuses about why I couldn’t see him, then I fabricated slights, like being annoyed he’d seen the Black Eyed Peas without me, but there was only so long I could stall the inevitable.
Exactly a month after I’d kissed Mark, I told Leo I wanted to break up. When he asked me why, I gave him some bullshit reason. Mark’s name was never mentioned. How could I tell him I’d kissed his brother and preferred it?
Leo was gutted. A month after that he got sick, and by November, he was dead.
I know kissing Mark and Leo dying wasn’t cause and effect. Of course I do. But I also know that I’ve never forgiven myself. And I’m not sure I ever will.
This supposed friendliness between me and Mark is built on too shaky a ground to last. Being forced to relive what happened when we were teenagers has reminded me what a dick he was afterwards. And how hard that was for me.
I resented him for what he did. Not for the kissing – I took responsibility for my part in it – I resented that he jetted back to Cyprus without a word, leaving me to deal with the fall-out.
I was sixteen.
I could have told everyone what had happened – wasn’t he even remotely worried that I would? Not a text, not an email, nothing. He fucked off and assumed that I would smooth everything over. Never mind that I was the one who had to face Leo every day.
I always knew he was the love ’em and leave ’em type. Vandi and I used to laugh at the girls whose hearts he broke.
Oh look, another dumb airhead who thought she could tame him.
I went in with my eyes open. I didn’t want a relationship with him.
I didn’t even want a repeat of what happened.
I just wanted him not to disappear. Hell, even one conversation would have helped.
A scrap of sympathy, a modicum of support.
He was the only person who could have made my life that tiny bit more bearable, by shouldering half of the burden.
Instead, he had the gall to blame me for breaking Leo’s heart – as if he wasn’t the reason for the break-up, as if everything that happened afterwards was all my fault.
Guess I was just his latest dumb airhead after all.
What would have been a welcome break in Cyprus and a chance for Theo’s wheelchair-bound grandmother to meet Tig is now going to be one big stressful exercise in avoiding Mark.
The only luck I’ve had is that, like Yan, Mark couldn’t get six days off work, so the pair of them aren’t flying out for another twenty-four hours, which means I get to relax for one whole Mark-free day. Whoop-di-friggin-doo.
I usually love flying. It’s a great excuse to buy loads of paperbacks and cosmetics because everyone knows that airport math is different.
I walk around the duty-free, scanning the rows of eyeshadows and perfumes, but I can’t summon enough enthusiasm for the new range of Dior lipsticks, or the latest summer scent from Escada.
Not that I’ve got space for any purchases.
All our carry-on luggage is packed to bursting because even though we’d paid for extra hold baggage we were still over our permitted weight.
Probably because half our suitcases were stuffed with presents for relatives.
‘It’s M an outdoor dining table with a canopy and a brick-built barbecue.
Inside, everything is either glass or stone with a cosy living room featuring three tan leather sofas and a kitchen with everything you could ask for, including a fancy-pants coffee machine with more buttons and levers than a cockpit.
Five bedrooms are arranged over three floors which means I don’t have to share with Pen, and they all have en-suite bathrooms with gleaming chrome showers. The house belongs to a friend of Mark’s who’s letting us have it for free – we’re just covering the cleaning bill.
Theo has perked right up, so after we all pick rooms (mine is small-ish and on the ground floor but has a private patio and a gate that leads straight to the garden and pool), he suggests a quick trip to the supermarket to stock up on essentials like bread, milk, and alcohol.
We each throw in twenty euros, and Theo sets off, taking Tig and Pen with him.
I crank up the AC in my room and start unpacking. The wardrobe is way bigger than I need and, for once, I hang up everything, even using the built-in drawers.
I strip and put on my new bikini – a 1950s-style halter-neck in a floral yellow and green print bought on a lunch-break shopping trip. Then I carefully apply sun cream, grab my sunglasses, beach towel, and phone, and head to the garden.
Compared to my air-conditioned room, outside is skin-blisteringly hot, even in the shade, so instead of chilling on a sun lounger, I toe off my flip-flops, and venture into the pool.
I swim a few laps, then float on my back, enjoying the peace and solitude. London and Alexandra Palace feel like a million miles away, but then my mind snags on the fact that Mark will be here tomorrow, and the rest of the holiday won’t feel quite so relaxing.
I had a missed call from him last night, but he didn’t leave a voicemail and I didn’t ring him back. With any luck he’ll get the message that I don’t want to talk about that night, and he’ll never mention it again.
I’m back on the sun lounger when Pen arrives, carrying two glass bottles of Coke.
‘You’re an angel,’ I say, manoeuvring the straw so I can drink without having to sit up. ‘Are Tig and Theo coming, too?’
‘No, they’re having a “siesta”,’ she says, doing air quotes.
She flops down on the lounger next to me even though it’s in full sun.
I throw my Ambre Solaire at her. ‘Put this on, you idiot.’
‘Yes, Mum,’ she says, but even with my eyes closed, I can tell she’s smiling.
We lie in silence for a while before the calm is pierced by Tig shrieking.
We both sit up, on high alert.
A second later, Tig tears through the garden with Theo following her at a more sedate pace.
‘Is it gone? Is it gone?’ she yells.
‘What on earth happened?’ I demand. ‘You frightened the life out of us.’
‘One of those lizard things fell on me.’ Tig’s waving her hands in front of her like it might secretly still be hiding in them.
‘I caught it,’ says Theo, from the other side of the garden. ‘It’s outside now.’
Tig doesn’t slow till she reaches us. ‘Oh, God, that was horrible.’
Pen checks her watch. ‘Enjoy your twenty-minute … nap?’ She winks at me, but Tig doesn’t react.
‘I couldn’t sleep because I’d seen the bloody lizard when we walked in but then it disappeared so I spent the whole time looking for it.’ She stops to catch her breath. ‘Fuck, it’s hot.’
‘Probably why he wanted a quick pit-stop in the air-conditioning,’ says Theo. ‘Poor blighter.’
Pen and Tig share a smile.
‘What did I say now?’ asks Theo.
I give Tig an ‘explain yourself’ head tilt.
‘We have this running joke that Theo talks like a retired country doctor from the nineteen forties.’ Tig turns towards him. ‘No one under seventy-five says “blighter”, babe.’
‘Or “bad show”, or “it’s just not cricket”,’ adds Pen.
‘I don’t say either of those,’ he protests.
‘She’s just teasing,’ says Tig. ‘Now then, are we going to get into this pool?’
Theo looks up at the clear blue sky. ‘You know I heard there might be a heat storm.’
‘No chance,’ says Tig. ‘Where’d you hear that?’
With a perfectly straight face, he replies, ‘The wireless.’