Pretty in pink was the phrase in mind as he looked across the table. Maria had clearly made a conscious effort to spruce herself up despite the many difficulties she must have endured getting the rest of her brood ready. Matt recognised early she had not gone to these lengths for his benefit but for her own. The night represented an escape from motherhood, albeit for a short passage of time. This was an opportunity for her be a woman, for one night only.
Adult conversation proved somewhat limited throughout the hour long meal as he’d expected, the children requiring constant attention. This was particularly true of the twins who seemed to have taken to him. All in all, however, the children were remarkably polite and well-behaved; a true testament to her abilities as a mother. He had managed to peddle a half believable story about taking a career break to try and write a novel, a tale to which she listened politely despite the frequent interruptions. Matt admired her endless patience and resolve, knowing it was a job he wasn’t up to. He accepted the return of the credit card from the waiter and turned to see her smiling at his red face.
“You will burn later tonight,” she said.
“What’s later got to do with it?”
She laughed.
“I did offer some sun cream.”
“And I very foolishly refused,” he quipped. “Let’s take a walk around the marina.”
The children rushed out of their seats towards the nearest shop and started to examine the tourist fare on display. They were boisterous and excitable though generally good natured. The adults paced steadily behind, along the paved walking area of the half moon bay.
“You have not asked about the father of my children.”
“Not my place,” he said.
She cocked her head to the side, intrigued by the apparent indifference, and offered him a look of curiosity.
“I cannot recall the last time I did this,” she said. “Enjoyed a finely cooked restaurant meal and followed it with an after dinner stroll in the cool evening summer air. You have been very kind. Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” he said. “Oh, I’ve forgotten my manners. I do apologise.”
Before she could respond he slipped his arm under hers and rested her hand on his forearm, thinking this would be a good move. She stopped, stepped away and glared at him. He raised his hands defensively.
“My mistake,” he said. “I’ve overstepped the mark.”
Her eyes filled with Iberian fire.
“What is it you are expecting in return for this so called kindness?”
“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “It seemed the polite the thing to do.”
He held his gaze, firm and true.
“Nothing,” he repeated. “I just wanted you to relax and take a night off from parenthood. I did not expect, did not intend, and would not ask for anything remotely more than you enjoy these few hours of freedom.”
Moisture doused the indignant flames he had inadvertently lit in her eyes, exposing her vulnerability. What made it worse was the knowledge that her emotional frailty was entirely due to him.
“Maria, I’m sorry,” he said.
She bit her lip to hold back the tears.
“No. It is I who should apologise, for the overreaction,” she managed to say.
Years of practice had enabled Maria to stifle the telltale signs of loneliness from the children. It was a skill she utilised to its full extent to recover her poise. Within a few seconds her expression had returned to normal, except he knew now that normality for Maria was suppressed heartache. Matt held up his hands, as though in apology, and tried to smile.
“I can take you home,” he said.
“No,” she replied, after a pause. “A peaceful stroll is what I wanted and this is what I shall enjoy. If you are prepared to escort me,” she added, holding out her arm.
“Of course,” he smiled.
They linked arms and turned to set off in leisurely pursuit of the four errant children several yards ahead. He thought to quicken their pace.
“No,” she said, to prevent him. “You said this is my night, did you not?”
“Certainly did ma’am,” he replied.
Ten arrived as they returned, more than enough time for Will to complete the task. After bidding good night he hurried to the mobile and used the speed dial to connect.
“What have you got?”
“Nothing,” said Will.
“Nothing, you had hours!”
“I turned the whole place upside down, nothing. If she’s got anything it must be on her.”
“She wanders round in a bikini all day and wasn’t wearing a good deal more for dinner. I think I would have noticed if it was on her.”
“Well there’s nothing in the villa. Did you manage to get a look in her purse?”
“She didn’t have one.”
“Time for plan B,” said Will.
“Which is?”
“Seduction, you’ll have to get in her pants.”
“I am not seducing Tillman’s wife. I killed her husband for Christ’s sake.”
“I know someone who’ll do it.”
“No.”
“It’s a straightforward in and out job, so to speak.”
“No-one seduces Maria Tillman, Costa, or whatever she’s called.”
“You’re going to have to think of something.”
His friend was right. The trail had led them to Maria so she must have something to point him in the right direction.
“Let me think on it,” he said.
“Don’t take too long.”
Page one eight seven. Two thirds complete. All this sex was starting to play on his mind. Maybe it was the European heat, or perhaps the excessive sunburn, generating the discomfort. His mind drifted back to earlier events, by the marina. Life had been, still was, pretty tough for Maria. It saddened him, her constant struggle to suppress unrelieved grief whilst trying to oversee the development of four young children. Some balancing act to pull off, he mused.
He recalled an early conversation with Will, about PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). Will explained how animals quickly rid themselves of the excess energy created by sudden and severe stressful situations, effectively surrendering their bodies to the natural biological process of discharge. Humans, however, tended to override this instinctual response with the rational part of their brain. They suppressed the energy surge, trapping it inside the body, the cause of PTSD. He wondered if Maria was in some small way a victim of this.
“How’s the back?”
He glanced up at the separating wall and saw her smiling face looking down at him.
“Sore,” he said.
“Don’t you have any sun cream at all?”
“No,” he admitted sheepishly.
“What is it with men and a lack of planning?”
“It was a last minute job,” he protested.
She smiled in amusement.
“Why don’t you pop over and I’ll put some on for you.”
“It’s okay. You’ve got your hands full with the kids.”
“They are settled for the night. One of the advantages of hot sun and a pool, it tires them out,” she said. “And my one night of maternal freedom has still almost two hours to run.”
He smiled and nodded. Tossing the paperback onto the white plastic table he vaulted the brick obstacle, instantly realising his folly when he crashed to all fours on the other side.
“Men lack common sense too,” she said with a hearty laugh, disappearing inside.
He took position on one of the yellow sun beds by the pool and waited. Fortune had presented an ideal opportunity. She was lonely, vulnerable, in desperate need for companionship. So why did he feel uncomfortable? The absolute worst that could happen was that he might have to have sex with her on a couple of occasions to get the information he needed. And it wasn’t as if the woman was unattractive. He sighed, knowing there was far more to this apprehension and uncertainty. He had slain her husband and deprived four young
children of their father. Matt despised the situation he now found himself in and considered dreaming up an excuse to leave, a thought interrupted by the sound of a whisky tumbler being deposited on the paving stone next to him.
“Loosen your shirt,” she said.
He hesitated.
“The quicker we get this cream on your back the better you will feel.”
Reluctantly, he complied. He felt her small hands gently peel the linen garment from his angry red shoulders, and then ease the short sleeves down his arms. A fierce coldness caused him to shake and jump.
“Be still,” she said.
“It hurts.”
“It doesn’t hurt. It is cream. The cold sensation will not last for very long.”
Her hands began to slowly smooth the creamy substance into his skin. Relief was instant.
“You are badly burnt. What possessed you not to cover up during the day?”
“It’s a man thing,” he said.
“It is stupid, that’s what it is. I may as well have had five little children to watch over today.”
No sooner had the words escaped then the massage came to a sudden halt. He waited, and she resumed.
“You must think I am a terrible mother.”
“No. Why would you say that?”
“Because of what happened this morning,” she said.
“You haven’t got eyes in the back of your head.”
Her fingers pushed hard into his back.
“I was careless.”
“You were a victim of circumstance.”
“Even so, if you hadn’t arrived when you did …”
“It happened because I arrived.”
He thought he heard a sniffle and gingerly twisted his body round to face her. Tears ran openly from her sad eyes and he responded intuitively by raising his hand to softly wipe them away from her cheeks with his fingers.
“Maria, it was an accident and could easily have happened to any mother on the planet.”
“She could have died.”
“But she didn’t. God’s way,” he whispered.
The weak smile on her face disappeared as quickly as it had arrived and she held her gaze. The opportune moment had arrived. This was it, if he wanted to take advantage of a sad and lonely woman. He hesitated. It was enough.
“I am almost finished,” she said.
He turned away to feel another sharp burst of coldness splatter to his back. Her fingers resumed the delicate task, quietly easing the greasy substance into his damaged skin.
“What will your book be about?” she asked.
He hadn’t considered she might ask him this.
“It’s an environment thriller. I recently saw a documentary programme, warning about the perils of overpopulation and what could be done about it. It gave me an idea for a story of an ordinary guy who unwittingly receives details of a sinister master plan, to cull over half the world’s population through the release of a deadly man-made virus. Standard fare I guess, man saves the world against overwhelming odds.”
If he was expecting a reaction he didn’t get one. The gentle manipulation of his skin continued at the same pace as before, without a noticeable break in speed or movement.
“And who would be responsible for conjuring up such an evil and wicked plan?” she asked.
“I haven’t decided yet. I can’t make up my mind whether the villains should be Government(s), or some secretive group of publicly paid officials acting together for what they believe is the greater good. What do you think, as a theme?”
“It is an interesting concept, totally unworkable of course.”
“I wonder if it is,” he said. “Think of it. As population growth continues unabated, the demands on natural resources multiply beyond the point of supply.”
“So the solution is to murder everyone,” he heard her say with amusement.
“Not everyone, only those who provide no useful purpose in life. The elderly, criminal classes and those consigned to a life of poverty.”
“And you believe Governments would do such a thing?”
He shrugged.
“Maybe not,” he said. “Sooner or later the world will have to face the problem though. Billions live in poverty already so the problem is already here.”
“You sound like a disciple of your intended villains.”
“Quite the contrary,” he said. “I couldn’t disagree more with any sort of approach of the like. It would make for a good storyline though.”
Her fingers pushed a little harder into his skin, almost sensual in their application, and he was unable to prevent the purr of contentment escape from his lips.
“It feels good?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he said.
His words prompted her to stop.
“It is warm enough this evening to keep your shirt off,” she said. “Allow the cream to sink in.”
The lingering moment had passed. Partly this brought disappointment from his burning flesh. Mostly he felt a huge sense of relief. It would be wrong to take advantage, to use, this woman. She stepped away to appear on the sun bed next to him, swinging her legs up and around to enable her to lay its full length. He copied the movement, without any of the grace, and lay quietly. Her silence steadily lengthened and he wondered what subject matter occupied her mind. Eventually, he could resist no longer and glanced across.
The stone coloured shorts contrasted with the olive tone of her bare-footed long legs. She had changed back to a purple bikini top, visible through the opened and loose-fitting silk blouse. Her hair had been loosened to fall down and rest to her shoulders, make-up left in place. One small sip at the tumbler and tension seemed to rise and evaporate from her muscles. This was her time, brief respite and temporary freedom from the role of being a single mother to four.
“I should leave you to it.”
“No, please. I would like you to stay,” she said. “Another presence is good, relaxing. We do not have to talk.”
He sat patiently as she sipped twice more at the alcohol. It was surprisingly relaxing to spend some quiet time with this remarkable woman, by the side of a pool in the warm summer air. The minutes passed peacefully. He glanced across and noticed the glass tumbler resting on her tummy in danger of falling from her grip. Maria had fallen asleep. He stepped over and gently loosened the leaning glassware from her grasp, placing it on the plastic table aside before resuming his position on the sun bed. Minutes turned to hours as he gazed up into the night sky, looking for Sam and Genevieve. He wondered what she was doing right now.
“I have been rude,” said Maria, out of the blue through half opened eyes.
“Resting would be a better description.”
“You have sat there throughout, while I have slept?”
“You were right,” he said. “It is pleasantly relaxing to have another presence nearby.”
She ran her long fingers erratically through her dark mane, blinking frequently to refocus her eyes.
“I put your drink on the table,” he said.
Her troubled gaze fixed on his face, leading him to think he’d somehow upset her.
“Why?” she asked.
“Why what?” he answered.
“Why are you being so kind to me?”
The question made him think.
“I hadn’t considered it as a kindness, only a way of helping someone who needed help.”
The ensuing yawn told him she was beyond deliberating the matter further.
“Go on,” he said. “Get yourself to bed. I’ll tidy up.”
“I can’t let you do that.”
“Yes you can. I’m not obligated to see to four young mouths first thing in the morning.”
Logical thought had still to return to her mind.
“I shall reward you tomorrow,” she yawned carelessly, soon followed by an expression of shocked bemusement.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I won’t hold you to it.”
She didn’t even attempt to
answer, just wiggled her fingers in some sort of departing gesture and went inside.
Chapter Fourteen
Confession