The Longest Holiday

  ‘I am,’ I say firmly. ‘I love him.’ How I want to add ‘and he loves me’, but I can’t. ‘So you’d better be nice to him,’ I warn.

  It’s a relief when Mum gets back on a plane again. She’s disappointed to be travelling home without me. I wonder who they’ll think of sending next. I promise I’ll be home in less than three weeks, anyway, because I’ve almost reached the end of my permitted ninety-day stay without a visa. This seems to placate her. They’ll all probably construct a plan to tie me to a bed or lock me in a room so I can’t leave once I’m back in the UK again. It’s my dad’s sixtieth birthday in just over a month, so I know I’ll have to stay at least until those celebrations are done and dusted.

  When I get back to the house after the airport run, Carmen and Eric are packing up their things.

  ‘Are they really going?’ I ask Jorge with surprise.

  ‘Looks like it.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘This weekend.’

  ‘That soon?’

  ‘Eric’s going by yacht; Carmen is meeting him there with their things,’ he explains.

  ‘Pretty soon, it’ll be just you, me and Leo, as they’re taking Max with them,’ he says with a cheeky grin.

  ‘Not for long. I’ve got to go home in less than three weeks.’

  ‘The marriage offer is still there,’ he jokes, and I smile at him. ‘Aah, but first you have to get divorced,’ he adds.

  ‘Yes,’ I say firmly, and I’m filled with dread. I really don’t want to go home.

  We all have a beer with Eric the night before he leaves, and then it’s Carmen’s turn.

  ‘So what are you going to do, Leonardo? Will we be seeing you in Miami at the end of the summer?’

  It’s a pertinent question, and not one that I’ve been comfortable asking ever since our argument.

  ‘Maybe. Maybe not,’ he says, looking over his shoulder at the house. ‘I haven’t decided yet.’

  ‘Do you reckon it could make a good guest house?’ Carmen asks, pursing her lips as she gazes up at the big old house.

  ‘Maybe. Maybe not,’ Leo replies, and my heart skips a beat. He pats my knee and I glance up to see him smiling.

  Carmen watches us with eagle eyes.

  Later she comes into the bathroom while I’m brushing my teeth.

  ‘Sorry, I’ll be out of your way in a minute,’ I say through a mouthful of toothpaste. She closes the door. I rinse out my mouth and regard her warily. When it comes to Carmen closing doors, it doesn’t usually work out well.

  ‘If you break his heart I will hunt you down and kill you,’ she warns, rendering me speechless. What planet is she on? Hasn’t she seen the effect he has on me?

  ‘It’s far more likely that he’ll break my heart!’ I exclaim.

  She shakes her head miserably. ‘If you think that, then you don’t know Leo.’

  Much as Carmen drove me around the bend at times, the house feels empty without her. It’s early August and the summer season is pretty much over. Javier has moved on up the keys, and Jorge is gearing up to head back to Miami until the next holiday season. I book my ticket home with a heavy heart.

  ‘Have you decided what to do?’ I ask Leo the night before I’m due to leave.

  He shakes his head. ‘I’ll go back to Miami for a bit, see where that takes me.’

  I hate hearing this.

  ‘Promise me you’ll stay away from Ashlee,’ I beg.

  He tuts and rolls his eyes at me. ‘You don’t need to worry about her.’

  ‘Stay away from everyone else, then,’ I warn and he runs his fingers up and down my spine, making me shiver. ‘Ooh, that tickles.’ I squirm. ‘Won’t you just stay here and keep the bed warm for me until I return?’

  He strokes my forehead. ‘I don’t want to be in this house without you.’

  ‘I’d rather you were here than in Miami,’ I say dejectedly.

  The next morning, Jorge, Leo and I shut up the house. We close the pale blue shutters and clear out the fridge and freezer. I do one final clean, hoping the house will remind Leo of me the next time he visits. Maybe I’ll be with him.

  He drives me to the airport, but I ask him not to come in.

  ‘I hate long goodbyes,’ I tell him. Jorge has driven separately. He has an apartment in the same block as Leo, and I’m glad they’ll have each other for company. Anything other than the female kind.

  I lean across and hug Leo tightly, breathing in his scent while I have the chance.

  ‘Will you write to me?’ I ask, pulling away to look searchingly into his eyes.

  ‘I’m not good at letters.’

  ‘Email?’

  ‘I can’t type.’

  ‘Leo, for God’s sake. We’ll talk on the phone, then, okay?’

  ‘I’m not very good on the phone, either.’ He smiles at me.

  ‘Tough!’ I exclaim. ‘My number in is your contacts under Laura.’ No surname. I programmed it in myself. ‘You’re talking to me on the phone, and that’s it.’

  ‘If that’s what you want.’

  ‘Of course it’s what I want. I don’t want to leave at all,’ I grumpily remind him.

  He climbs out of the car and retrieves my suitcase from the boot. We stand on the pavement outside Departures and face each other. He still reminds me of a film star, standing there with his hands in his pockets as he gazes down at me. Perhaps I shouldn’t say it, because he won’t say it back, but it’s not like me to keep quiet. I reach up and stroke the tips of my fingers across his tanned bicep before letting my hand drop.

  ‘I love you,’ I tell him solemnly.

  He flinches. I thought he might, but it still hurts. ‘You know they’re going to expect you to work things out with Matthew.’ He doesn’t comment on my declaration.

  ‘I don’t care. That’s not going to happen.’

  ‘If it does . . .’

  ‘It won’t happen!’ I try to convince him.

  ‘If it does, then I understand.’

  I feel stung. I don’t want him to understand. I want him to fight for me.

  ‘Do you want me to work things out with him?’ I ask unhappily.

  ‘Of course not.’ He brushes me off. ‘I’m just trying to be decent.’

  ‘Oh. Alright. Well, don’t try to be decent, okay? I’m coming back to you.’

  He nods and gives me a small smile.

  I stand up on tiptoes and kiss his lips. He kisses me slowly and then takes his hands out of his pockets to hold me tightly in his arms.

  ‘Bye.’ I pull away and take my suitcase by the handle.

  ‘Bye,’ he says.

  I turn and walk into the airport, looking back once to meet his eyes. He nods at me, curtly, and then climbs into the car.

  A dark and horrible feeling overcomes me. Why do I suddenly feel like that was the last time I will ever see him?

  I think I cry more on the return journey than I did on the way there.

  Matthew is waiting for me at the airport. He told me he’d come; I asked him not to; he ignored me. And much as I believe I’m returning to finalise the death of our relationship, I can’t help feeling glad to see a familiar face.

  It’s a warm and sunny afternoon in London, and this surprises me. Expecting to come back to rain and misery, I hadn’t prepared myself for England in all its summer gloriousness.

  We barely speak in the hour and a half it takes us to get to our two-bedroomed apartment in Battersea, and the car is fraught with tension. I know Matthew is biting his tongue, trying not to give me the Spanish Inquisition, but he’s not happy. I’m surprised he came to the airport at all. Perhaps his window for forgiveness, as my mum liked to call it, is still open a notch. He’ll close it before long. It’s for the best.

  Our apartment smells strange. Very, very familiar, yet very, very odd. I look around. He’s tidied up, but man-style. Nothing is properly clean or in the correct place, but I can tell he’s made an effort.

  My old computer is sitting on the kitchen ta
ble, and it’s plugged in. You would never have thought I’d been away for almost three months.

  I decide to keep my new MacBook in my bedroom – I’m relegating myself to the spare room for the immediate future.

  ‘Do you want a tea?’ he asks. ‘Something to eat?’

  ‘I’m not very hungry,’ I reply uneasily. It’s so strange being back.

  ‘I’ll make you a toastie?’ he suggests and I glance at him. He gives me a hopeful smile and I can’t help but soften.

  ‘Go on, then.’

  ‘So was it hard leaving?’ he asks casually as he gets on with the job.

  ‘You want my honest answer?’

  ‘Um . . .’

  ‘It was hard leaving, yes,’ I tell him gently, refraining from spelling out just how heartbreaking it actually was. ‘How’s Evan?’ I ask, changing the subject.

  ‘He’s good.’ He smiles.

  ‘Have you got any more photos?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  He comes over to me and shows me the pictures on his phone.

  ‘He’s grown!’ I exclaim. But babies do tend to do that, of course.

  ‘I was wondering . . .’ he starts, and I immediately tense up at his tone. ‘I was wondering if you’d like to see him this wee—’

  ‘No,’ I cut him off. ‘No.’ I shake my head firmly and he looks resigned.

  ‘Okay, well, maybe not yet.’

  I leave it be. I doubt I’ll ever be ready.

  I return to work the next day and, again, it feels surreal and extremely unfamiliar to walk back into the office where I’ve spent so many of my waking hours for the best part of three years. Becky jumps up from her desk and hurries over to greet me.

  ‘It’s so good to see you!’ she cries, stopping short of throwing her arms around my neck because we weren’t that close. I’m her boss, after all.

  ‘It’s good to see you, too.’ I grin and put my bag down on the carpet. ‘You look well.’ I smile at her blonde curls. She normally wears her hair up in a ponytail or a high bun, but now it’s down. It softens her face and she looks very pretty. In fact, she’s lost weight. ‘You look amazing, actually,’ I say with surprise. She was quite rotund when I left.

  ‘Paul McKenna,’ she tells me with a grin. ‘Genius weight-loss book.’

  ‘Really?’ I ask with interest.

  ‘Yeah, it’s brilliant. It’s total common sense. You eat when you’re hungry and stop when you’re full . . .’ I listen as she rabbits on, pleased to see that her enthusiasm is still very much intact in every arena of her life.

  ‘You look fantastic, too,’ she says after a while.

  ‘Oh, thanks.’ I smile with embarrassment and glance at my arms. They’re more tanned than they’ve ever been.

  ‘Did you have an amazing time? Well, you must’ve had, otherwise you wouldn’t have stayed there for so long.’

  ‘It was good, yes . . .’

  The phone rings, breaking up our conversation. Becky answers.

  ‘Can I ask who’s calling?’ she says into the mouthpiece. ‘Okay, I’ll see if she’s available.’

  She puts the person on hold and then turns to me. ‘It’s someone called Tessa. Do you think it’s her? She said it’s personal.’

  Tessa? What the hell is she doing calling me? And at work? Curiosity gets the better of me. I tell Becky I’ll take the call in my office.

  I close the door behind me and she puts the call through.

  ‘Hello?’ I say hesitantly, my heart in my throat.

  ‘Laura?’

  She sounds young.

  ‘Yes.’

  I probably sound old and weathered.

  ‘It’s Tessa.’

  I say nothing.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she continues quickly. ‘I know you probably don’t ever want to speak to me, or see me, or anything, but, well, I just wanted to call you. I wanted to apologise. For everything.’

  I let out the breath I didn’t realise I was holding.

  ‘Are you there?’ she asks.

  ‘Yes.’ I can barely speak.

  ‘I was just wondering . . . Is there any way we could catch up? Maybe this weekend? I’d really like to meet you. Evan is . . . Well, Evan is going to be a part of your life and I’d really like him to see you, too.’

  What am I supposed to say to that?

  ‘Um, well . . .’ Matthew and I are getting a divorce? I haven’t actually told him that yet, so I’m hardly going to spill it to this little slapper. Only she doesn’t sound like a slapper. ‘Okay,’ I find myself agreeing.

  Matthew comes with me. I’m nervous and twitchy and really quite angry with him. I tried to call Leo earlier but he didn’t answer his phone. I left a rambling voicemail and then changed my mind and deleted it when it gave me the chance.

  Tessa lives with her dad in East Finchley in north London, and it feels like a long journey on the Northern Line to get there.

  Matthew and I don’t speak much on the walk from the tube station. I guess he doesn’t want to wind me up. I spy a lovely-looking gift shop at the top of the high street, and it occurs to me that I could have brought a gift for the baby. Should I? I feel bad arriving with nothing, but, bloody hell . . . I can’t believe he’s putting me in this position!

  I glare at an unsuspecting Matthew and decide not to buy anything. We take a right onto a street lined with terraced houses. Eventually we come to Tessa’s door, which is painted red. Matthew rings the doorbell. I stand behind him, halfway down the path. I hear footsteps behind the door and seriously consider bolting, but then the door swishes open.

  ‘Hello!’ the brunette at the door exclaims. She peers past Matthew to me and gives me the brightest smile imaginable. She is pretty, but not annoyingly so. She’s slim with shoulder-length straight hair and blue eyes.

  ‘Come in, come in,’ she says, ushering us inside. The hall floor is made up of old-fashioned tiles in colours of red, brown, orange and white, and there’s cream-coloured tread-worn carpet on the stairs. ‘Go through to the living room,’ she directs Matthew, who clearly knows what he’s doing. The living room has stripped floorboards and a colourful rug. The sofas look old and comfortable, and there are a couple of yukka plants sitting in the bay window.

  ‘Is he asleep?’ Matthew asks in a quiet voice.

  ‘Yeah.’ She smiles at him and I want to hate her, but find I don’t. I notice she’s not wearing any make-up, and her casual T-shirt has a smear on it. I’m surprised. I thought she would have been dolled up to the nines, trying to impress me or make me jealous, or, at the very least, make herself feel more human. But maybe this is how she is. I’m disconcerted to find that she’s not a complete bitch.

  ‘Can I get you a tea or coffee?’ she asks me, and for the first time I realise that she does look nervous.

  ‘Tea, please.’

  She smiles and nods. ‘Tea?’ she asks Matthew.

  ‘Thanks,’ he says. She walks out of the room and I sit on one of the sofas. Matthew flops down next to me and tries to take my hand. I automatically snatch it away.

  ‘Don’t,’ I mutter.

  He sighs helplessly.

  We hear a cry from upstairs and nerves swell through me once more.

  ‘Lizzy, can you bring him down?’ Tessa calls up the stairs.

  ‘Okay!’ we hear a woman call back.

  I glance at Matthew. This is the Lizzy he knows, I take it. ‘Did you know she was going to be here?’

  ‘No.’ He shrugs. ‘I knew her dad was out?’

  Okay, so maybe Tessa thought it was worth bringing in reinforcements. I don’t suppose I can blame her.

  A moment later there’s movement on the stairs and we hear Tessa taking Evan from her sister. She brings him into the room.

  ‘Here he is,’ she says, and her voice is full of love for this little bundle of, well, perhaps we’ll refrain from using the word ‘joy’ on this occasion.

  Matthew sits up straighter, and I notice his face light up. I’m not prepared for how much
this will hurt me, but there it is, my hurt. I watch as Tessa hands him over to his father.

  ‘Evan, meet Laura,’ Matthew says gently, holding him towards me so I can see his face. His little eyes are open and he’s staring up at Matthew, making an ‘ooh’ sign with his lips, although no sound comes out.

  My heart softens. It’s impossible not to be touched by how cute he is.

  ‘This is my sister, Lizzy,’ Tessa interrupts awkwardly.

  We exchange hellos. She’s taller than Tessa by a couple of inches, and quite a bit curvier. She’s also a brunette, although her hair is curly. She’s attractive, but she looks exhausted.

  ‘Do you want to hold him?’ Matthew brings my attention back to the baby, but I notice his quick look at Tessa to check that’s okay, and her immediate nodded response.

  ‘No, it’s alright,’ I find myself saying. ‘I . . . I’m not very good with babies.’

  I don’t know if this is true or not, but Matthew’s sister Dana’s baby cried when I held her last year and it’s scared me off a bit.

  ‘He’s a very good baby,’ Tessa encourages me.

  Lizzy rubs Tessa’s back with her hand. It’s sort of an approving gesture: ‘You’re doing well, little sister, I’m proud of you . . .’

  We hear more footsteps on the stairs.

  ‘Here comes Ellie,’ Lizzy says, then to me: ‘My daughter.’

  Suddenly a little girl of about two or three runs into the room. Lizzy sweeps her up into her arms.

  ‘Mummy, Mummy, I want . . . I want . . .’ Then she spies Evan and seems to change her mind. ‘Baby!’ she exclaims.

  Lizzy laughs, her smile lighting up her face as her toddler scrambles to get down to the floor. She climbs up onto the sofa next to Matthew and strokes Evan’s face with her chubby little hands.

  Tessa and Lizzy look on with pride and delight. Even Matthew is grinning.

  But my discomfort increases. What on earth am I doing here? Let them have their happy little family. I’m not part of it. I will never be a part of it.

  Matthew seems to remember me. ‘You want to hold him?’ he asks again.

  I shake my head. ‘It’s okay.’ I look at Evan’s face, still staring up at his daddy, despite his cousin’s best efforts. ‘He seems happy with you.’