Chapter 34
Everyone’s quiet in the car home. I sit in the front passenger seat, resting my forehead on the window. I’m exhausted but I know I won’t sleep tonight.
Theo comes back with us, too. Mark’s been admitted overnight and we’ll hear tomorrow morning when he’ll be discharged.
Back at the villa, I turn down offers of tea and go straight to my room.
My curtains are still open, and the lights around the pool give off an eerie blue glow.
Mark’s discarded T-shirt and shoes lie on the ground by a sun lounger. It feels wrong to leave them there, so I go and gather them up.
When I bend to pick up his shoes, a glint of gold catches my eye. It’s a tiny crucifix on a long gold chain; the cross is small, like one you’d give a child. The chain, though, is adult-sized, long enough to reach Mark’s sternum. I guess it must have come off when he peeled off his T-shirt.
It’s odd that he was wearing it, though.
Mark was never religious; he always described himself as atheist and hated that his dad had insisted his first-born be baptised a Roman Catholic like a proper Sicilian.
Not that Giovanni cared about religion – it was an ego thing, Mum used to say.
Sickly Leo was of less interest, so was allowed to be Greek Orthodox like his mother.
I leave the T-shirt and shoes in the living room, but the crucifix I keep, putting it in a small velvet box with my own jewellery.
I strip and step into the shower, lathering my hair twice to wash away the acrid tang of chlorine.
What I can’t wash away are the flashbacks. Mark facedown in the pool, the trickle of blood at his temple, his cold blue lips. I cry hot, angry tears until my throat aches and the water has wrinkled my fingertips.
I get out of the shower, wrap myself in a towel and sit on my bed.
My anger at Mark isn’t justified. I know that. But it’s easier to deal with anger than what’s rumbling underneath.
He could have died. And if he had, what would I have done with all the unsaid things between us? Unsaid and unexamined.
I’ve avoided him for fifteen years, but the imprint he left on me during my teenage years is still there. That period in my life was the first time I had to deal with messy emotions, the first time I couldn’t categorise everything into two distinct categories of wrong and right.
He was the biggest mistake I ever made, but a small part of me thought – thinks – it wasn’t a mistake at all.
It was me putting myself first. The consequences were catastrophic.
It turned me into a much more careful person, weighing every decision meticulously, needing things to be neat and tidy, to clearly be either right or wrong.
Rich sleeping with Lucy was wrong, but then so was me kissing Mark.
And yet … a part of me doesn’t regret it at all; a part of me that I rarely acknowledge. Because the thing I’ve never told anyone – the thing I can barely admit to myself – is that no one’s ever matched the way Mark made me feel that night.
No one’s even come close.
It’s almost midday when I wake up, but I still beat Tig to breakfast. Yan, Pen, and Theo have been up a while and are playing Uno in the air-conditioned living room. A quick peek at the score reveals Theo is doing very badly.
‘I hope you’re not playing for money,’ I tell him. ‘These two are infamous cheats. Check Yan’s sleeve for cards if you don’t believe me.’
Yan clutches his heart. ‘That’s slander.’
Theo smiles good-naturedly. ‘I’m terrible at this game. They don’t need to resort to cheating to beat me.’
‘Thank you,’ says Yan, although Pen is suspiciously quiet and fighting a sly smile, which convinces me I’ve rumbled their scheme.
‘Any news on Mark?’ I ask.
‘He’s got the all-clear,’ replies Theo. ‘I’m picking him up at two.’
‘Would you mind if I went instead?’
Yan raises an eyebrow. ‘Someone’s had a change of heart overnight.’
‘No, of course not,’ says Theo. ‘But are you sure?’
‘She’s only offering because she wants to see Doctor Adonis again,’ says Pen.
‘I’m happy to go – I’m his fiancée, aren’t I?’
I go to the kitchen to wash up, and as I’m sweeping the crumbs off my plate into the bin, Theo appears.
‘Hold up,’ he says, dropping something in, too.
I only catch a glimpse before the lid closes. ‘What was that?’
He looks embarrassed. ‘A packet of cigarettes. A foreign brand.’
I pause. ‘Did you find them by the pool?’
He nods.
I rinse my mug and put it in the dishwasher. ‘Mark was smoking last night.’
‘That’s odd.’
‘I take it he doesn’t smoke, then?’
He shakes his head. ‘Not since finals. Maybe it’s a holiday thing?’
‘Maybe.’
Except the only other time I saw him light up was at his brother’s funeral. And if Theo’s only seen him smoke at exam time then a cigarette is something Mark reaches for only when he’s troubled.
‘How’s his mood been recently?’
Theo frowns. ‘Fine, I mean, a bit stressed helping with the wedding and delaying the move to Venezuela. Here’s me thinking a few days away would relax him.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘He was livid he had to stay in hospital overnight. I warn you, he’ll be a grumpy so-and-so.’
‘I can deal with that.’
‘I’ve packed a small bag for him – clothes, shoes, wallet, that sort of thing. I’ll leave it by the front door.’
I find a station playing Greek pop as I drive to the hospital. I’ve got the AC off and the windows down so I can enjoy the sun on my arms.
The temperatures are likely to hit the high thirties, but instead of wearing a T-shirt and shorts, I’ve put on a strappy blue summer dress embroidered with white daisies that skims my knees. And instead of chucking on my Havaianas, I’ve opted for white fabric wedges that tie up with ribbons.
I borrowed Pen’s straighteners so my hair hangs straight and glossy down my back. Winged eyeliner and cherry red lip-gloss complete the look. I want to present as serious and put-together, not the sopping, sobbing mess I was last night.
And I must pull it off because Doctor Adonis arrives at reception at the same time I do and does a double take.
‘I’ll take you up to your fiancé,’ he says. ‘It will be a nice surprise for him.’
He leads us to the lift and along several corridors before we get to Mark’s room. Then, instead of leaving me to it, he bursts into the room cheerfully announcing my arrival as if Mark has won the lottery.
I’ve been dreading seeing the broken Mark from the night before, so I almost buckle with relief as I take him in.
His eyes are bright and his hair has dried into loose curls.
Dark stubble covers his jaw, but it doesn’t detract from his vibrant, pulsing energy.
If anything, it adds to his take-your-breath-away looks, served, as always, with a side of and-don’t-I-just-know-it.
This is the Mark I’ve always known: cocky, confident, controlled. Last night’s was the imposter.
We look at each other, neither of us speaking.
Doctor Adonis clears his throat. It jars because I’d forgotten he was there.
‘I’ll leave you two alone,’ he says.
I shuffle forward to give him room to leave, and then it’s just Mark and me.
‘I wasn’t expecting you,’ he says quietly.
Taking another tentative step forward, I lay the bag at the foot of his bed. ‘Theo packed this for you. It’s got clothes and stuff.’
He nods. ‘That’s great. Thanks for bringing it.’
‘No problem.’
Another long pause. ‘Do you mind if I get changed?’ He points to the bag.
‘Yes, of course. Sorry.’ He pushes the covers off, and I get a glimpse of tanned knee under his blue hospital gown before I spin round to give him privacy.
The springs squeak as he gets out of bed. ‘Any chance you brought a razor?’
‘I just brought what Theo packed.’ And because it seems important that I fill the silence, I say, ‘He says you’ve been a terrible patient. I expect you’ve been terrorising the staff, insisting you know better.’
‘I’ve been a model patient.’
He sprays two blasts of deodorant.
The smell is surprisingly familiar, even after only a couple of days under the same roof. Unless he’s worn the same one since he was a teenager?
‘I doubt that very much,’ I say. ‘Model patients don’t lie.’
‘Is this because I told them I only drink a couple of units a week? Doctors expect you to lie about that.’
‘You told them I was your fiancée.’
I hear the zip of his fly. ‘You make it sound like I told them you were my dealer.’
‘I didn’t like having to lie.’
‘To Doctor Moron?’
I frown. ‘Why would you call him that?’
‘Only a moron would gawp at another man’s fiancée in front of him.’
‘If he was gawping, it was because I looked like a car-crash last night.’
‘You don’t look like a car-crash today.’
I jump, not expecting him to be standing so close.
‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘I just need to grab my watch from the chair.’
I move out of the way so he can reach it. ‘Does it still work?’
‘No, but it might be fixable.’
He was wearing it last night. The glass face glinted in the moonlight as I clawed at his arm, frantic to haul him out of the water.
If I hadn’t managed, if I’d been asleep when he came back, his stopped watch would have recorded the time he died.
The thought makes me woozy. I brace a hand against the wall.
Then, a gentle ‘Hey?’ and a glancing touch on my elbow. ‘Are you okay?’
I swallow the lump in my throat and give myself a couple of seconds before turning round.
I nod. ‘Not really a fan of hospitals.’
‘Neither am I. And I work in one.’
I give him a watery smile, embarrassed that he’s seen me like this.
‘You’re all dressed,’ I say, focusing on the living, breathing Mark in front of me. He’s wearing a white T-shirt and khaki shorts. ‘Theo picked out a nice outfit …’
The words die in my throat as I take in what’s on his feet: yellow flip-flops adorned with plastic marijuana leaves and Jamaican flags.
He notices my horror and shakes his head. ‘Theo’s idea of a joke. He claims he couldn’t find any of my shoes so went out and bought these.’
I smile, grateful for the distraction. ‘He’s finally standing up to you. Tig must be rubbing off on him’