Chapter 21
Twenty-One
Dutch painter. Specialised in domestic interiors of middle-class life. Does art always have to depict grand or ‘important’ scenes? What domestic moment would students like to represent and why?
(Taken from Calliope Thorne’s teaching notes.)
‘Have you got any money for the taxi? Driver only takes cash. You okay, Mum? You look a bit flushed.’
All sexual yearning shrivelled and fell away in a cold disappointed lump. ‘Frida. What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Ibiza!’
‘Mum. Money.’
Callie looked around blindly for her bag. Luckily, she’d hung it on the hook next to the front door. ‘Frida,’ she yelled it back into the house, to warn Johnny, ‘hold on to Vinny, would you? Don’t let him escape.’
‘Is this Vinny?’ Frida dropped to her knees and cuddled an ecstatically writhing spaniel. ‘He’s cute. Why’s he here? Thought you were sharing with Mr Silver Fox?’
‘Get up, Frida.’ Callie located her purse at the very bottom of her bag and thrust it at her daughter’s chest. ‘No idea if there’s enough in there. I don’t have much cash on me.’
‘I know,’ Frida grumbled. ‘I mean have you ever heard of a cab not taking contactless these days. He’s holding on to my case as ransom in case I don’t go back.
He’s waiting on the main road. Took me ages to find my way up that track in the dark but I knew I was in the right place as soon as I spotted your car. What a farce.’
‘Well, go back down and pay him,’ Callie snapped. ‘I’ll take Vinny into the garden out of the way and leave the front door on the latch. Go on.’
‘Okay.’ Frida pouted. ‘You’re weirding me out though, Mum. Stick the kettle on, will you? I’m desperate for a tea.’
Callie grabbed Vinny back, lifted the latch on the front door and shunted it shut with her behind before running back to Johnny. ‘It’s–’
‘I heard.’ He was still on the sofa but had got himself sorted, had had time to rebutton his shirt and fasten his belt. Smoothing his hair back, he managed a grin. ‘Timing could be better.’
‘Tell me about it.’ She put Vinny out into the garden and shut the French doors, ignoring the dog’s plaintive whines.
Johnny rose to stand in front of her. He took her hands. ‘Unfinished business?’
Callie blew out an exasperated breath. ‘Definitely.’ Rising to tiptoes she kissed him lightly. And then deepened it. She could scream with frustration. Feeling her nipples budding again in arousal, she moaned against his mouth. ‘I can’t resist kissing you.’
Frida, encumbered by her wheelie suitcase, rumbled along the hall.
‘Shall I leave this by the stairs?’ she called out.
‘I can lug it up later. Got that kettle on yet? Could murder a lemon and ginger. I mean, I know it’s a short flight but took ages on the train to get here from the airport.
Sorry I didn’t ring. Phone was low on juice.
’ As she entered the kitchen diner she lurched to a halt. ‘Oh!’
Callie and Johnny were several feet apart by the time Frida arrived.
Callie bit her lip in dismay as she regarded the scene and saw it through her daughter’s eyes.
The candles lending a seductive light, the wine bottles, the remains of an intimate meal for two and, most damning of all, the crumpled and squashed cushions on the sofa.
Vinny pressed his nose against the windows, his breath steaming up the glass, huge spaniel eyes reproachful. It was the last, ludicrous detail.
Callie felt a hysterical giggle rise and swallowed it. ‘This is J-Johnny Starling,’ she said, guilt making her stammer. ‘My… um… housemate.’
Frida looked about her with wide eyes. ‘Your housemate? Yeah sure.’ She fixed an accusing gaze on her mother.
Johnny rescued the awkward pause by striding forward, hand out. ‘Pleased to meet you, Frida. I’ve heard a lot about you.’ They shook hands, Frida reluctantly.
‘Cool. I’ve heard practically nothing about you.’ She glowered.
Vinny whined and scrabbled at the window.
‘I’ll take the dog out,’ Johnny put in hastily. ‘He could probably do with a last-minute walk. I’ll take my key, Callie, so don’t worry about not locking up.’
They stood in a frozen silence watching each other. Johnny disappeared into the hall and returned carrying his jacket and Vinny’s lead.
As he passed Callie on the way to the garden, she hissed, ‘Coward.’
‘Too right,’ he whispered back. ‘Plenty of wine left if you want some, Frida,’ he added, more loudly. Easing himself out of the French doors, he called out, ‘Night.’
Callie collapsed on the sofa. Picking up her glass she drank the contents and then refilled it. ‘Grab a glass if you want some. As Johnny said, there’s some left if you fancy it.’
Frida crossed her arms and looked down at her mother. ‘Think it’s more about what you fancy, Mother.’ She flounced into the kitchen, hunted through the cupboards, located a tumbler and emptied the remains of the wine into it.
Perching on the arm of the sofa, she looked daggers. ‘So, what gives, Mum? Just what have you been up to?’
Callie wasn’t having this. ‘Could ask you the same thing, Frida. Why have you cut your holiday short and why have you been so uncommunicative?’
Frida slid down off the arm and swallowed some wine. ‘Reasons.’
Anger began to lick at Callie. She loved her daughter unconditionally but sometimes the girl infuriated her. ‘I’ll tell you all about my holiday if you spill the goss on yours.’
Frida rolled her eyes and sniggered. ‘Spill the goss? How old are you, Mum?’
‘Not too old to take you across my knee, young lady.’
This time Frida snorted. ‘Try it and I’ll have you up on a child abuse charge.’
Callie slammed her glass down on the coffee table so hard wine spilled. The swerve from sexy lover back to concerned mother was disorientating. She let rip at Frida. ‘This isn’t like you. This isn’t the Frida I know talking. It’s Leah’s influence, isn’t it? You know I never liked her.’
Frida stared into her glass in mutinous silence. Eventually she blew out a breath. ‘You might have a point there,’ she finally admitted. Huffing moodily, she added, ‘Don’t think she’s the friend I thought she was.’
Callie’s irritation fled. ‘What did she do?’
‘Met some bloke on the first night and abandoned me. I hung out with Alice and Elodie – their parents own the villa.’ Frida shrugged.
‘They were okay but I don’t know them that well.
It wasn’t like having a mate there. Once Leah met this Rico bloke I didn’t see her for dust.’ Her bottom lip quivered and, all of a sudden, she looked far younger than her years.
‘And it wasn’t what I hoped it would be, Mum.
Don’t think I’m cut out for nonstop nightlife and drinking.
’ Her eyes widened. ‘And the drugs! People were off their heads on stuff.’
Callie sat up in alarm. ‘You didn’t–’
‘Come on, Mum, what do you take me for?’ Frida stretched out a long, suntanned leg. ‘Got to keep this temple of a bod pure,’ she said, with more than a little complacency.
Her mother let a laugh escape, the last vestiges of her anger dissipating.
She never could keep up with Frida’s mercurial change of moods and could never stay angry at her for long.
‘You’re a lovely colour. Wish I tanned like you.
’ Lifting up a strand of her daughter’s lustrous jet-black hair, she said, ‘Wish I had hair like this too instead of my frizzy mop. But,’ she added, sternly, ‘if I thought you’d even gone near any drugs, you’d be disinherited, my child. ’
Frida shifted away, seemingly uncomfortable. ‘Can promise you, the drugs weren’t an issue for me. I’m not that daft. Didn’t even drink much. Couldn’t afford it.’
‘Did you get charged for changing your flight?’
Frida took another sip of wine, deliberating her answer.
‘Nah,’ she said evasively. ‘It was sorted. I’d…
’ she paused. ‘I’d stopped having a good time so decided to cut and run.
See what the good old UK could offer for a holiday.
’ She brightened. ‘Gotta say, from the little I’ve seen of Lullbury Bay, it looks ace. ’
Callie accepted the deflection in subject matter.
Her daughter was obviously not ready to tell her the real reason behind the sudden decision to leave Ibiza.
‘It’s lovely. You can have a good look round tomorrow.
You can walk over with me to the Art School.
I’m in charge of judging the children’s art competition. ’
‘Oh, Mum, thought you were on holiday?’
‘It won’t take long and I volunteered as part of my competition entry. Once they found out I’m an art teacher, I got jumped upon.’
‘You’re too soft.’
‘Tell me about it,’ Callie answered, with asperity. ‘When are you going to pay me back for the taxi?’
Frida raised one black, perfectly groomed brow. ‘I’ll pay you back if you tell me all about this little seduction scene.’