Chapter 11
DAY TWO
CHLOE
‘God, check you out: a day in Ibiza and you already look better for it,’ George says, sitting in his pyjamas with a cup of coffee in front of him while he cradles baby Thomas.
I laugh and stand up, turning to give him a panoramic view of the cliffs, the sea, the perfection of the blue sky.
‘I think I hate you. Tell me how it smells,’ he says.
‘Like pine and salt,’ I reply, inhaling deeply.
He smiles but also bends down to smell his son’s dirty nappy; we are in very different places right now.
‘Well, I just wanted to check in. I’ve been keeping tabs on your location like you asked, but you look alive and well.
Too well. You’re not in a horrible airless box room and you haven’t been kidnapped by a troop of Spanish monkeys. ’
‘Does that happen?’ I ask.
‘Yes, it’s a terrible thing.’
‘How are the boys?’ I ask.
‘As joyful and loud as ever. Thomas wants to know if you’ve met Pedro Pascal yet?’ George says even though the baby is sleeping after pooing himself in his father’s arms.
‘I have,’ I say.
‘He’s not too showbizzy?’ George continues.
‘No, he’s very down to earth and friendly. His jamón is very good.’
‘I don’t think I want to know, sis. As long as the jamón is safe for consumption.’
‘You’re gross,’ I whisper, looking ahead, my camera work starting to get a bit shaky.
‘Why does it look like someone’s chasing you?’ he asks me.
I don’t want to explain or he’ll think I’m crazy.
After last night’s abrupt ending, I went upstairs, simmering that Julian had called me on holiday and reduced me to tears by the poolside.
But I was also confused by Ben and his agenda.
I don’t need to be told how to live my life, but part of me knows he’s right.
And I’ll admit I’m curious about him. The unpolished nature of this retreat, his backstory.
Yet there’s something about him that almost feels too nice, too perfect.
I can’t quite believe his charming veneer.
So, when I opened my balcony this morning and saw him putting his trainers on and getting ready for a run, I did the same and I followed him.
That’s why it looks like I’m being chased while I’m taking this call.
‘I’m following Pedro Pascal,’ I say, hiding behind a tree on this dusty cliff, tracking Ben’s movement along the path below.
‘That very much sounds like stalking,’ George replies.
‘I’m just trying to figure him out. He nearly confiscated my phone yesterday,’ I say, trying to justify my actions.
‘Really?’
‘Well, not by force. He offered to take my phone so work wouldn’t try and call me.’
‘Work called you? That’s not on… you’re on holiday,’ he replies
‘That’s what he said.’
‘So Pedro and his jamón is a font of good advice. I like him already.’
I’m not listening properly. ‘I’m going now. Please check my location every day and kiss my nephews,’ I say, slightly out of breath, realising this bizarre check-in phone call might be worrying my brother. ‘The sun is shining. I went in the pool yesterday. I’m just being—’
‘Cautious. I know my sister,’ he says. ‘Look, buy me a souvenir, don’t fall off a cliff and please try and relax a bit,’ he says, sounding concerned. ‘Just a tiny bit.’
I hang up. Relax. Yeah, what I’m doing right now is not relaxing and it’s probably a terrible idea.
The problem is I don’t really run. Or hike.
Or do any sort of physical activity. I walk to the Tube station, I stand on an escalator and I run the gauntlet to my office.
I’m sometimes forced to climb stairs if the escalators are out of order but I wear sensible shoes and I’m never as out of breath as some of the old men commuters whose buttons pop around the gut area.
I walk to and around the shops, up and down high streets, and sometimes across parks.
But that is usually because I’m cutting through trying to get somewhere else.
However, this is physical and outdoorsy.
Wholesome fresh air and sunshine, but the heat is intense, mildly draining.
I don’t think I’m wearing enough deodorant.
Ben said there were snakes here. What if I get bitten?
What do you do with venom? Do you pee on it or suck it out?
Why the hell am I following him? To track him to a secondary location where he stores dead bodies and a one-eyed accomplice?
I think about his words last night. I’m not sure how you’re supposed to give advice to someone you’ve only just met but maybe I’m riled that he’s right? Because I went back to my room and fired up my laptop to check drawings when I should have been resting. Damn him.
He really does just seem to be jogging. I’ve followed a man to watch him jog.
And all he’s doing is sweating and glowing quite profusely.
Now he’s stopped to stretch near some rocks and I look away to be polite because, well, he’s bent over and his bum is quite arched in those little running shorts.
He stretches to the side and his thighs are, for want of a better word, bulging.
There are some defined curves to his back under his small backpack; his biceps curl upwards as he rolls his arms over his head.
OK, I need to stop now. This is bordering on pervy.
Maybe I’ll just go back to the villa and enjoy the surroundings but suddenly a bird calls in the distance and Ben turns to look in my direction.
I bend down behind a nearby fir tree. Shit. Did he see me?
‘Chloe! Is that you?’ he shouts, his voice carrying up to where I am.
I have options here. Could I pretend to be a bird of some description? Maybe I’ll caw. What noise do birds make? Do I pretend to be a goat? I don’t even know what noise a goat makes. It’s like a sheep, yes? I bleat. Poorly. Like I’m on Old McDonald’s farm.
I hear laughter. ‘I can see your shoes,’ he says.
I shuffle them back in. Do I pretend to be funny or crazy? ‘It’s not Chloe. I’m just a lowly little mountain goat.’
‘Do you have a name, little mountain goat?’ he calls up.
Shit. What’s a goat name? I guess we go for alliteration, something beginning with g? ‘Gloria?’ I say, unsure why I question my own goat name.
Ben pauses and I hear his footsteps treading up to the path I’m standing on, twigs cracking.
Shit. I don’t know what my cover story is here. ‘Hi,’ I say cheerily as his face appears around the tree trunk.
‘Hey,’ he says, looking me up and down. ‘You’re out for a jog too?’
He thinks I jog? I’m in yoga gear. I was going to stretch by the pool but that’s a decent excuse and I lunge a little. ‘Yeah, I thought I’d get out before the sun got high.’
‘Were you just trying to avoid me by pretending to be a goat?’ he asks.
‘Oh crikey. No. There was a goat here, she’s scarpered. You must have scared her off,’ I explain.
‘Sure,’ he says, smiling. He turns his baseball cap backwards and rolls his shoulders back. I mimic the action, assuming that’s what runners do. He studies me curiously. I must look quite pink. ‘Well, while you’re up here can I show you something?’ he asks.
I stop in my tracks. I’ve already seen everything thanks to his tiny shorts. But now that we’re alone, is he going to reveal himself to me in other ways? I knew something was awry. My instincts are never wrong. This is not good.
I step back and he puts his hands to the air. ‘I was going to show you the view.’
‘Of?’ I ask abruptly. I pick up a rock from a nearby ledge and put it behind my back. I can’t run but I’ve got a mean arm.
‘The sea?’ he replies, narrowing his eyes at me. ‘Just the sea.’
Oh. ‘Of course. I could look at the sea,’ I say.
‘Cool, come on then.’ He cocks his head to one side, urging me to follow him.
We push past the tree and I place my hand on it, feeling the silvery smoothness of the bark.
We scramble up a sandy track, tripping on tree roots, my trainers covered in dust, when we suddenly come up against a shield of greenery.
Ben pushes it to one side and I sigh sharply when the view is revealed: the azure sky, the horizon meeting the crystal-blue sea which is dotted with little boats and framed by white cliffs.
As I try to take it in, I feel bizarrely free for a moment.
I’m not usually in charge of how I feel, I’m usually in a badly lit office, waiting in line for the microwave.
An invisible office lemming doing the same damn thing every day.
But now I’m here. I take a deep breath, smiling and closing my eyes.
I notice the warming, earthy scent of salt; the sound of the waves crashing below; the sun on my face.
This is what a holiday feels like. I open my eyes again and notice Ben looking at me.
Embarrassed to be observed in my closed-eyes-meditative moment, I pretend there’s sweat in my eyes and blink furiously.
‘You didn’t bring any water? Sun cream?’ he asks, reaching round to take off his backpack and handing me a cold bottle of juice. I don’t want to look like I came out here unprepared, so I try to act aloof when I actually want to chug that bottle like a hungry baby.
‘I wasn’t thinking,’ I tell him, holding the bottle aloft to signal my thanks. ‘You’re big on hydration, eh?’
‘In this heat, yes,’ Ben replies. I watch his throat ripple as he downs his own drink.
Jesus, this juice. It’s sweet but tangy and fires off every part of my tongue, running down my throat like fruity silk. ‘What the fuck is in this?’ I ask. That sounded mean-spirited, accusatory.
‘Blood orange,’ he says, obviously still trying to work me out. ‘I squeezed it this morning.’
‘Good squeezing.’ Wow, did I actually just say that? That might be worse than my goat impression but it’s true. It’s good juice.
Ben smiles to himself like he didn’t quite hear me and walks towards the edge of the cliff to take in the view again.
‘It’s quite a view, eh?’ he says, putting his empty bottle back in his bag. He turns back and takes my bottle too.
‘I like all this Mediterranean pine, I noticed the olive trees as well. What’s that island?’ I ask, pointing across the sea.
‘Tagomago, it’s privately owned but that white building that you can see is a lighthouse.’ He’s talking architecture so I’m interested.
‘Cool. Did you know that every lighthouse has its own distinctive flash pattern? It helps ships to identify their location at night, like a nautical light fingerprint,’ I tell him.
He looks at me and smiles.
‘I’m big on trivia and buildings,’ I explain.
‘Are you the sort of person I want on my team in a pub quiz?’ he asks.
‘Of course,’ I say. It’s my superpower. I am Useless Trivia Woman. I rest against an olive tree in the clearing, grateful for the shade and a chance to not be attempting to run.
‘Well, there are lots of cool beaches, lighthouses and old churches we can visit if that’s your thing. Miguel knows the island much better than me. I can ask him,’ Ben replies.
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘I’d like that.’
He pauses for a moment before looking at me; his face is still covered in a thin veil of perspiration. ‘I’m sorry about last night. I feel I overstepped the mark. I said too much. I’ve no doubt that you’re excellent at your job.’
I don’t reply. I think it’s because I’m stunned that his apology is so open and sincere.
‘But please do promise me that you’ll try and get some proper rest on this break too,’ he says.
I nod, still silent.
‘Is there anything I can do to help? Any favourite foods I can cook?’ he asks.
‘Melon. I like melon,’ I say a bit randomly.
‘Melon, old buildings… go on,’ he says, smiling.
‘I don’t really know what I’d like to do.
I’d like to watch a film from start to finish.
Get off my phone. I liked being in the pool yesterday.
I liked putting my head under the water and…
’ I pause for a moment but I’ve already embarrassed myself enough this morning to worry about sounding stupid, ‘…pretending I was a dolphin.’
He smirks in reply.
Disclosures like this may be why I’m still single. ‘Please don’t think I’m weird,’ I plead.
‘Quite the opposite really. I usually pretend I’m a shark. Sometimes I put my hand on the top of my head and pretend it’s a fin,’ he tells me. ‘I guess that makes Miguel a killer whale then…’
I pause to let his humour land. ‘Free Willy? That’s a terrible joke…’
‘But you got it, no one normally gets my jokes,’ Ben says before going quiet. ‘Well, I have a checklist now. Just know you’re safe here. Let me look after you.’
There’s a way he says those words in a deep whisper which makes me freeze for a moment and sends an unearthly sensation down my spine.
I believe him. I believe the intention, and clouds of doubt are starting to move away.
My cells are responding to those words, in that tone, that cadence.
LET HIM LOOK AFTER YOU, CHLOE! God, girl – let this man in.
But like that? That also goes against holiday rules, no?
I’m also fairly certain he’s gay. But there’s a way he edges towards me, slowly, while my back is still against this tree.
We’re in the outdoors. Are we going to kiss?
‘Don’t move. No sudden movements,’ he says.
Why would I move suddenly? Why are his eyes so big?
Is it the heat or because we’re near a cliff?
But it’s then I hear the hissing. Oh my fuckety fuck.
There’s a snake behind me. I might wet myself.
Don’t scream. I thought that was a branch moving in the breeze.
But I don’t stick around to find out, I’m all about the sudden movements.
I push Ben out of the way, do a strange jumping dance and run back to the villa.
I’ve seen that Attenborough clip, snakes are fast. I hope I can escape it. I hope Ben can keep up too.