The Longest Holiday

  ‘I don’t know what came over me,’ I mutter. He wraps his arms around his knees and I can feel his eyes on me as I dig around in my bag for a tissue. Always have them handy, thankfully.

  ‘You’ve been through a lot,’ he says evenly.

  ‘Not as much as you.’ I blow my nose loudly, not caring how I must look. ‘I’ll never feel sorry for myself again.’

  He shakes his head, then he lightly punches my arm. ‘Time for a swim?’

  ‘Sure.’ I get to my feet and then impulsively start to run across the sand. ‘Race ya!’ I call over my shoulder, which is a big mistake because he catches me quickly, and then shocks the life out of me by scooping me up in his arms. I scream as he storms into the ocean and drops me in the water.

  ‘You bastard!’ I squeal when I come up for air, my hair absolutely drenched. I splash him and he dives under the barely existent waves. He re-emerges and flicks his head back so his black hair falls off his face. I sink below the water so it comes up to my neck – hell, I need to cool off – while he eyes me with a teasing grin.

  I push away from the sand with my feet and swim into deeper water. He follows me, doing a slow front crawl, and then turns so he’s lying on his back, floating in the water. I purse my lips and push down on his stomach so he gasps and has to stand up before he sinks. I laugh and duck away from him before he can splash me.

  ‘That was fun,’ I say later when we’re back in the car. ‘Well, I mean—’ Obviously not the pouring-out-your-heart-about-your-mother’s-suicide bit, but the other stuff.

  ‘It was,’ he interrupts, thankfully before I can say the sentence out loud.

  We cross over Duval Street, which is already packed full of revellers.

  ‘What’s the time?’ I ask with a frown.

  ‘Don’t know,’ he replies with a shrug. No, I don’t imagine he’s the type to ever wear a watch, and I didn’t bring my mobile, so . . .

  I sigh. ‘I’d better call my mum when we get back.’

  He doesn’t comment.

  When I’m showered and sand-free and dressed again in Sunday’s going-home outfit of jeans and a T-shirt, I turn on my phone to check for urgent messages. I’ve been keeping it switched off until I get my charger back tomorrow. It buzzes to alert me to one message, then it buzzes again. And again. I sigh and listen to my voicemail. The first one is from my mum.

  ‘You need to call me, right now, darling.’ She’s using her firmest tone. ‘One text message is not going to cut it. Laura? Do you hear me? Ring me.’

  Bollocks.

  The next one is from Marty. She sounds downbeat . . .

  ‘Hey, you, just a quick one to let you know we’re back safely. Matthew was pretty messed up when we came through Arrivals without you. I think Bridget might’ve put her foot in it. Anyway, call me when you get this. I need to hear your voice.’

  The next one: Matthew.

  ‘Laura . . .’ He sounds resigned, flat. ‘I don’t know what you’re doing, but please call me. I need to talk to you.’ Pause. ‘Please.’ His heavy sigh is cut off when he ends the call.

  The next one is Mum again, but I realise if I keep listening to my messages then I’ll drain my phone battery, so I decide to call her first. She answers on the third ring.

  ‘Mum, it’s me.’

  ‘Laura, thank goodness! Are you okay? Where are you? Are you still in Key West?’

  ‘Mum, I’m fine,’ I say calmly. ‘Yes, I’m okay – well, as okay as I can be under the circumstances – and yes, I’m still in Key West.’

  ‘But what are you doing there? Darling, I don’t understand!’

  Gone is the firm, in-control woman from the first voicemail message. Now she’s worked herself up into a bit of a state.

  ‘I’m just taking a break—’

  ‘But you’ve had a break!’ she exclaims. ‘You’ve had two weeks away!’

  ‘It’s not enough,’ I say simply.

  ‘But that girl has had the baby! Laura, you need to come home!’

  This is the first time I raise my voice. ‘I know she’s had the baby, Mum, that’s why I’m not coming home.’

  ‘Oh, Laura.’ She sighs with sympathy, but I must be getting slightly immune to it because my eyes don’t fill with tears as they have so often in the past.

  ‘Just chill out, okay?’ Back to calm again. ‘I’m a big girl. I know what I’m doing. I just need some more time away, alright? And I like it here. It’s warm and—’

  ‘What’s this about a man?’ she interrupts again.

  ‘What man?’ I ask innocently.

  ‘Leo? Is that his name? Matthew was quite upset about him.’

  ‘When have you been talking to Matthew?’ I ask with alarm.

  ‘Well, I’ve seen him a little bit while you’ve been away.’ Now she sounds guilty, as well she might.

  ‘Mum!’ I exclaim with indignation. ‘Why are you being nice to him?’

  ‘He’s so upset, Laura, he—’

  ‘So he fucking well should be!’ I cry.

  ‘Laura!’ she cries back, but I’m not going to apologise for my language. No way. I’m on a rant.

  ‘He did this, Mum. Not me. He deserves everything he gets, so don’t you go around feeling sorry for him!’ I’m outraged that she’s even giving him her shoulder to lean on. She’s my mum! ‘I’m going,’ I snap.

  ‘No, darling, don’t . . .’ She seems contrite.

  ‘No, I have to, Mum. My battery is about to run out and, anyway, I don’t want to talk about this anymore.’

  ‘Give me your address.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘In case something happens to you! I need to know where you are.’

  ‘It’s the house next door to the hotel we were staying in. Marty knows where I am. I don’t know the address.’

  ‘Well, can you get it?’

  ‘I’ll text it to you,’ I promise. I sigh. ‘Look, I’ve gotta go.’

  ‘Okay. Be careful!’ she blurts out.

  My voice softens. ‘Mum, really, it’s fine. I’m with good people. They’re looking after me.’

  ‘Even that Leo?’ she asks, slightly snootily, to my annoyance.

  ‘Leo is a friend. Just a friend,’ I clarify. ‘I’ll call you when I have my charger back, okay?’

  ‘Okay.’ She sniffs.

  ‘Bye.’

  ‘Bye, darling.’

  I hang up first and flop back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Suddenly I feel tired, oh so tired. I switch off my phone again and edge up the bed and under the covers. It won’t hurt to have a little kip. I’m done with talking for now.

  When I wake up, it’s dark outside. I lie there for a moment, listening, and I can just make out the sound of laughter and music coming from the garden outside my window. I get up and go to look out. I smile to myself at the now-familiar scene before me: sofa, chairs, fairy lights, cigar smoke, cans of beer, Leo, Jorge, Carmen, Eric – and now Javier, too. I go into the bathroom and splash some water on my face, then head downstairs to join them. Something smells good in the kitchen as I approach it, and my stomach rumbles. Jorge is grabbing some beers out of the fridge.

  ‘How’s it going?’ he asks with one of his trademark twinkly smiles. ‘How did you sleep?’

  ‘Pretty well,’ I reply self-consciously. ‘Was I asleep for long?’

  ‘About four hours.’

  ‘Whoa.’ Four hours?

  ‘Ready to party tonight, eh?’

  Dammit. He’s right. I’m never going to get to sleep later after that mammoth afternoon nap.

  ‘You want something to eat?’ he asks.

  ‘That would be great. It smells amazing.’ I look around the kitchen and see that it’s still pretty clean, even though there are a few dishes stacked near the sink. Nothing like the disaster zone of this morning, though.

  ‘Go and sit down. I’ll bring some out to you. You want a beer?’

  ‘Um . . . Sure.’ I’d prefer a glass of wine, but I’m not going to be fussy. H
e passes me one. ‘Want me to take those to the others?’

  ‘Sure. Thanks.’

  I feel a bit shy as I walk outside. Max is the first one to spot me and he barks and growls his acknowledgement until Eric shouts at him to shut him up. Well, I’ve certainly got their attention now.

  ‘Hi,’ I say sheepishly.

  ‘Hey,’ Leo replies, looking over his shoulder.

  ‘Who wants one of these?’ I ask, referring to the beers. Leo lifts his hand up, so I pass him one. Eric reaches forward to take the other.

  Carmen and Eric are sharing one of the two armchairs – she’s sitting on his lap – and Javier is in the other one. There’s room on the sofa next to Leo. He doesn’t say anything to me as I sit down. Carmen is teasing Javier about girls he met on his travels. She seems to be in a pretty good mood. I crack open my beer can and take a sip. I’m so not in the mood for beer tonight.

  ‘Make some room.’ Jorge is standing next to the sofa, indicating for me to move along so he can sit down. I edge closer to Leo, who doesn’t move an inch to accommodate me. Jorge slumps down on the sofa and lands practically on top of me.

  ‘Whoa!’ I exclaim, shifting even closer to Leo to make room for Jorge. He laughs and hands me a bowl of steaming-hot food. ‘Thanks.’ I put my beer down on the rock in front of me and perch on the edge of the sofa so I can eat in a more upright fashion. ‘What is it?’ I ask Jorge, glancing at Carmen.

  ‘Coconut curry,’ Jorge tells me.

  Max comes to sit at my feet. You like me now, do you? Now that I’ve got food?

  It’s heavenly: fluffy white rice and creamy chicken, fruity with coconut and something else . . . bananas? And just the right level of spice. ‘That is absolutely amazing,’ I enthuse, regarding Carmen with wide eyes. ‘Will you show me how to make it?’

  ‘I didn’t cook it,’ she replies a little defensively. ‘Leo did.’

  ‘Did you?’ I glance over my left shoulder at him, unable to keep the astonishment from my voice.

  ‘Don’t sound so surprised,’ he huffs. ‘I’m not completely useless.’

  I grin at him and he takes a swig from his beer can, rather than return my smile. I eat while the conversation kicks off again. My amazement doesn’t leave me, though. I wonder if his mother taught him to cook. This thought fills me with sadness. Finally I put my empty dish down on the rock coffee table and pick up my beer, edging backwards to sit properly on the sofa. This is a two-seater sofa with three of us sitting on it, but I’m still taken aback by how close I am to Leo. His right-hand side is pressing so firmly into my left-hand side that his body heat flows into me. I can barely breathe. He leans forward to pick up a small tin case from the rock. ‘You mind?’ he asks, opening it up and pulling out a cigar.

  ‘Not at all,’ I tell him, willing him to settle back next to me again. He remains upright as he lights it, then he falls backwards and – bliss – his body presses against mine once more. We’re so close. Too close, perhaps, because he chooses to put his right arm up on the top of the sofa to make some more room for us. All this does, however, is make me feel like he has his arm around me. It’s all I can do not to lean back against his chest. I take a sip of my beer and try not to smirk. He holds the cigar in his left hand and breathes away from me, but the sweet-smelling smoke trails in my direction anyway. I’m fighting such a desperate urge to look at his mouth that I’m completely oblivious to the conversation going on around me. Suddenly I realise Jorge has asked me a question.

  I come to with a start. ‘Sorry? What?’

  ‘I said, would you like to come on a night dive tomorrow night?’ He says it slowly, to make light of my lack of attention.

  ‘A night dive?’ I ask in confusion.

  ‘A dive which takes place at night time.’ Again, he says this slowly, teasing me.

  My brow furrows. ‘But how do you see anything?’

  ‘With torches.’

  ‘Isn’t that really scary?’ I inquire with slight alarm.

  ‘Surely not when you have Leo as a buddy,’ he says with a grin, looking past me to Leo. I turn my head to see Leo raising one eyebrow at him.

  ‘Are you going?’ I ask Leo.

  ‘Looks like it,’ he replies sardonically.

  I breathe in quickly and speak before I can change my mind. ‘Okay, count me in.’ I notice Carmen giving Eric a snidey look.

  ‘Do you dive, Carmen?’ I ask this question boldly so she’s aware I’ve caught her out.

  ‘No.’ Her reply is blunt.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘She’s too lazy to do the course,’ Jorge interjects jovially.

  ‘I have better things to do,’ she says with a disdainful look at her brother.

  ‘Did you speak to your mother?’ Leo asks me quietly.

  ‘Yeah.’ I feel too physically close to him to be able to look him in the eyes for long. I take a mouthful of beer to distract me from this fact and can’t help pulling a face.

  ‘You want something else to drink?’ he asks, clocking my reaction.

  ‘I might pop to the offie later.’

  ‘The offie?’

  ‘Off-licence,’ I explain. ‘Liquor store, I think you call them here.’

  ‘I’ll go for you if you tell me what you like.’

  You, please. Oh, he means alcohol. I swallow. ‘Some white wine would be good. Or vodka?’ I ask weakly, meeting his eyes for a moment. ‘I’ll give you some money.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘No,’ I say a little too loudly. I turn to see eight pairs of eyes staring at me. ‘I want to. In fact,’ I address everyone, ‘I really need to talk to you all about paying rent while I’m here.’

  ‘How long are you planning on staying?’ Carmen’s direct question catches me off guard.

  ‘I . . . I . . . I don’t know,’ I admit.

  ‘You don’t have to decide now.’ Jorge pats me on my knee. ‘Just take your time.’

  I smile at him gratefully.

  ‘Actually,’ Carmen speaks up, and we all look at her. ‘It’s not up to you, is it, brother?’

  Jorge shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

  ‘No, but it is up to me,’ Leo says firmly. Carmen looks taken aback. ‘In case you’ve forgotten, this is my house.’

  Even I freeze at his tone, and Carmen, for once, is lost for words. Eric is the first to speak.

  ‘Anyone for a beer?’

  Only Jorge, Javier and I react, and we politely decline. Leo and Carmen say nothing. Eric sets off towards the house and Carmen seems to change her mind because she jumps up and hurries after him. Jorge exhales loudly. Javier is still amongst us, and the silence is deafening. In fact, it’s a relief when Carmen and Eric return. They sit back down in their armchair.

  ‘Nice tidy house,’ Carmen says, glancing across at me.

  ‘Thanks.’ I’m surprised that she’s commenting on it, however begrudgingly. ‘I needed to do something.’

  She shrugs. ‘It looks good.’ She cracks open her beer can.

  Suddenly Leo gets to his feet and we all look up at him in alarm. ‘I’ll go to the offie,’ he says, winking at me so I know he’s not pissed off anymore.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Cool air hits my left side unpleasantly. I want to ask if I can go with him, but I have a feeling it would be better for my personal relations if I stayed here with the others.

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘I’ll get you some money.’

  ‘Later,’ he says, setting off across the garden before I can stand up.

  ‘You don’t like beer?’ Carmen asks me.

  ‘Not really,’ I reply, hoping this isn’t going to give her another excuse to be mean to me, but she holds her tongue.

  ‘Did you contact the airport today?’ Jorge asks me.

  ‘Yeah, they’re delivering my suitcase tomorrow.’ I smile at him. ‘I’ll be relieved to have some more clothes. And my mobile phone charger,’ I add.

  ‘You can always use the home phone if you need to make ca
lls,’ Carmen chips in, and again I’m surprised.

  ‘Okay, thanks,’ I reply.

  ‘Eric will give you the internet password, too, if you want it.’

  ‘Oh, um, thanks,’ I stutter again. Being nice so doesn’t suit her. ‘But I don’t have my laptop with me.’

  A thought strikes me. If I did have my laptop, I could actually work from here. I could actually do my job! Not to the best of my abilities, but enough to help out Becky, and enough to earn a wage. My stomach fills with hope and excitement as these thoughts race through my head. I wonder if I could get Matthew to courier it to me. I hate the idea of asking him. There’s no way he’ll agree easily – he wants me home, not here – so I’ll have to beg. Maybe I should just buy a new one . . . I would love a new computer. I’ve been making do with that one for years. Perhaps I could go to Miami one day and pick up a nice new MacBook? Surely they have an Apple store there?

  My mind is still ticking over when Leo returns with a plastic bag. I get up and follow him into the house.

  ‘Is there an Apple store in Miami?’ I ask as he gets a wine glass down from the cupboard.

  ‘Yeah,’ he replies, wondering why I’m asking this question.

  ‘I was thinking I might go and buy a computer so I can do some work.’ He pulls a bottle of chilled white wine from the plastic bag and grabs a bottle opener out of a drawer. ‘You’re not planning on going to your apartment anytime soon, I don’t suppose?’

  ‘Um . . .’ He thinks for a moment as he opens the bottle. ‘I suppose I could go back one weekend. When are you thinking?’

  ‘I don’t know – this weekend?’ I pull a face, not expecting him to go for it.

  He shrugs and hands me the glass. ‘I could do that.’

  ‘Really?’ I ask hopefully.

  ‘Yeah. Sure. We can go Saturday, come back Sunday. Or Monday,’ he adds, taking a second bottle of wine out of the bag and putting it in the fridge.

  ‘Saturday/Sunday would be perfect!’ I say excitedly. ‘I’ll book a hotel,’ I add quickly, feeling my face heat up.