The Moment of Truth
Maggie couldn’t remember much about how she got home, other than she managed to flag down a taxi and get back to the finca, where she collapsed in her tent and slept for thirteen hours straight.
And now she was awake and in the clear, sober light of morning, everything about the events of last night looked different.
She must have got it wrong. It had been chaos in the club and she struggled to see without her glasses.
Never mind that she’d still been suffering the effects of a concussion and a black eye.
In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she was convinced she’d been mistaken about what she thought she saw on the balcony. Or even who she saw.
It was definitely Birdy, but now she couldn’t be sure it was Theo.
There’d been lots of people. Was her mind playing tricks on her again?
Like when he first disappeared and she used to think she saw him walking down the street, or in the supermarket, and she’d rush up, only to discover it was someone else and her cheeks would blaze with shame and embarrassment.
Was she so stressed and obsessed she was conjuring him up in crowds, like a ghost? Was she never to be free of him?
And it was then she made her decision. She had to move on from this. For her own health and sanity, she had to let it go.
Maggie had always had a sense of reluctance about chasing across Europe, trying to find the man who blew up her life.
It was only supposed to be one night, twenty-four hours in Monte Carlo – blink, and it would all be over.
But while their plans had changed and the trip had given her life another new and surprising dimension, her doubts had always remained; and as the days had gone by, she’d felt her misgivings multiplying.
And a nagging question.
Don’t you run away from explosions, not towards them? They always do in the action films. Whenever there’s a massive blast, you don’t see anyone running back into the wreckage. They’re always desperately trying to get to safety. Away from danger. Relieved to still be alive.
Which begged the question, what the hell was she doing?
She should be trying to get as far away as possible from him.
The Love-bomber. This man who blew up her life.
He’d planted the dynamite into the cracks of her heart, the depths of her trust, the foundations of her very being. Lit the fuse and watched it go BOOM.
Next time she had a run-in with him, she might not be so lucky.
Having made up her mind, Maggie got up and packed up all her things. She toyed with the idea of leaving a note for Flick, then decided against it. She couldn’t do that. She owed her an explanation at least.
‘Flick, are you awake?’ Pulling back the canvas flap, Maggie saw Flick was fast asleep, buried underneath a large mound of duvet. It had been almost dawn when she’d heard her come home. She stirred as she entered.
‘Maggie . . . what time is it?’
‘It’s early, but I’m leaving.’
‘Leaving? To go where?’
‘Home. Not that I’ll have it for very much longer,’ she added, as she thought of her promise to Ainsley to move the caravan. ‘Back to the UK.’
‘Why? What’s happened?’
Bleary-eyed, Flick struggled onto her elbows and pulled off her sleep mask.
‘Is this because of last night? I tried to find you. When you didn’t come back from the loos I went looking for you, but there were so many people .
. . When I finally got to the VIP section I couldn’t see you or Birdy, so I just assumed you’d come back here and I stayed out partying—’ She broke off.
Partying. That word again. Except, this time in Ibiza she really was. ‘I’m sorry. I was pretty out of it.’
‘No, it’s not that.’
‘I should’ve left, should’ve come back to make sure you were OK.’
‘Flick, it’s fine, I’m a grown-up. You needed to let your hair down and be with your friends. You’ve been through a lot recently.’
‘So why are you leaving? Is it because of what happened in Mallorca?’
‘Well, that’s part of it.’
‘Because, I’ve been thinking, you could always call the hotel.’
‘S’cuse me?’
‘To speak to Juan! He works on the front desk, remember?’ encouraged Flick. ‘I can’t believe I didn’t think of that at the time.’
‘No, you’ve got it all wrong, I don’t want to speak to Juan.’
‘Fair enough, I suppose holiday romances never work in real life, do they?’
‘Flick, please –’ Maggie felt a beat of frustration – ‘if you’d just let me explain. I don’t want to do this any more, I’ve changed my mind, I’m done—’ She broke off as there was a sudden stirring movement underneath the duvet. ‘Wait. Is someone there?’
Abruptly, a tousled blonde head appeared followed by several naked limbs. ‘What’s that about holiday romances?’
‘Flea?’
‘Oh, hi, Maggie.’ She yawned, and gave a sleepy wave.
It took a moment to realize what was going on.
‘Sorry, I didn’t know you had company, I should go . . .’ Maggie suddenly felt embarrassed.
‘I can explain . . .’ And now Flick was looking embarrassed.
‘You don’t need to explain anything, honestly, I’m leaving anyway.’
‘Wait, let me put some clothes on.’
But Maggie was already walking away.
‘Please don’t go home!’
A few moments later she turned to see Flick running after her in her bare feet through the orchard.
‘I’m sorry about last night, about what happened in Palma, being mugged and your eye and your phone and everything .
. . I’m sorry we haven’t found him already, I know it’s been a bit of a wild goose chase and it’s taken a lot longer than I thought, but please don’t give up—’
‘I found Him.’
Silence. The impact of her words taking a moment to register. And then.
‘What?’
‘He texted me, I went to meet Him at a cafe.’
‘You met him?’ Flick stared at Maggie, dumbfounded.
‘Well, no, that’s the thing, I didn’t.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘That was the night in Palma when I got my bag stolen. That’s why I was in that part of town, to meet Him . . . except I never did.’
Finally. The truth was out there. The two women looked at each other.
‘What the fuck, Maggie?’ Flick finally spoke, her face incredulous. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I know, I’m sorry; I don’t know why I kept it a secret. I just wanted to see him again by myself, to look him in the eye, to try to get some answers . . .’
She broke off and shook her head, trying to collect her thoughts.
‘I was worried he wouldn’t speak to a journalist, that your being there would frighten him off.
I thought maybe I could persuade him to talk to you, that I could bribe him or threaten him or .
. . I don’t know. I don’t know what I was thinking .
. . The irony is when I finally found him, I realized I didn’t want to find him.
I didn’t want to see him again. I hate what he did to me, but I was scared—’
‘Scared of what?’
‘What he was going to say, how I was going to feel. Scared I wasn’t going to be strong enough, that he was going to suck me right back in again. That I still loved him.’
She’d finally said it. Finally admitted her worst fear.
Flick listened, trying to absorb this new information.
‘I can’t believe you’re telling me all this now.’
‘After I got my phone stolen there didn’t seem any point telling you at all. I didn’t have his number any more. I fucked it all up.’
‘You didn’t fuck anything up; you’ve been amazing, through all of this—’
‘Yes, I did and I’m so sorry. I know how important it is to you that we find him, I know that this story could be your big break – and you deserve that, you really do.
You’re going to be a brilliant journalist, Flick, I just know it.
You’re the cleverest, funniest person I know, but I can’t do this any more. ’
‘There’s something else. It’s got nothing to do with my job.’
‘It’s over.’
‘Please, Maggie, I haven’t told you the truth either. That’s not the only reason I came looking for Theo Stratin . . .’
Something in Flick’s voice made Maggie stop and turn.
And there, in the dappled morning sunlight, barefoot and more vulnerable and confused than she’d ever allowed herself to be in her life, Flick finally said aloud the words she’d been keeping inside, for the very first time.
‘He’s my dad.’