A Handful of Pebbles (24 page)

She lifts her head, looks out of the window at the blue sky and the lush fig tree. The back of her nose is on fire. Putting down the bin
, she grabs for a tissue from Laurence’s side of the bed. Blowing her nose does not help. She spits in the paper and wipes her mouth before throwing it in the bin.

Perhaps it’s her duty to tell the police? Would they believe her? The car will have rusted into the ground by now. Laurence would deny ever having the conversation she just heard, and no doubt Neville would back him up. Sarah looks out of the patio windows to the decking and chairs at the front of the house where she had sat holding her boys’ hands. The bottom line is does she want her sons to have a father in prison and a mother who put him there? Sons with wives, maybe one day, grandchildren. How would having a grandfather in jail reflect on them? The incident suddenly seems a long time ago.

But of one thing she is now absolutely sure: she is not going back to the Isle of Man with Laurence. Back to his house that she has always struggled to call home. She will never load that dishwasher looking through the side window across the lawn as Laurence
’s car pulls out of the drive again. She will never pull his shirts from his stop-over bag after a long flight again, never check the pockets of his trousers for change before stuffing them into the washing machine in the utility room. There will be no more chats with Mrs McGee, watching biscuit crumbs gather around her mouth between slurps in her coffee break, duster still in her hand. No more lonely afternoons sitting in the conservatory waiting for the crunch of Laurence’s tyres on the drive, just glad he is home for the sake of some company.

Maybe she should feel joyous, but, looking in the mirror on the chest of drawers
, all she can see are the lines, the wasted years in her eyes and her loveless existence. The man who vowed to love her all these years is the man who killed the only person with whom she had ever really known love.

No, she will not tell Laurence that she now knows, nor will she tell him her plans. She will not tell him anything ever again.

Her phone rings. It’s a Greek number. Nicolaos springs to mind, but she casts the image away before it is truly formed. It could be someone calling from a land line—Helena, Finn, even Joss from the hotel.

‘
Hello.’ She speaks quietly. Laurence is only next door, and she has not made her presence known yet. While she packs, she would like to keep it that way.

‘
Hi Sarah? Jim.’

Sarah lets go of her suitcase
, which she is pulling from under the bed, and stands straight.

‘
Jim, hi.’ She waits. Has Frona said something already or does he want to talk about the wedding?

‘
So tomorrow the big day, eh?’ He sounds cheerful.

The days have flown
. Surely it cannot be the wedding tomorrow already! The date on her watch confirms Jim is right.

‘
Oh, the days have passed so fast, I have almost lost track of time,’ Sarah says and then worries it makes her sound irresponsible.

‘
Greece does that,’ Jim replies as if it is the most natural thing in the world for her to forget her own son’s wedding day. ‘Mama tells me you two have been cooking up a plan?’ For some reason, Sarah is nervous to reply. She looks at her feet shuffling on the bedside rug. He continues, ‘She seems very keen. You know she has been suffering from depression, right?’

‘
Yes, she mentioned it.’ Sarah straightens and looks out of the back window to the pool and the fig tree.

‘
Well nothing seems to have worked, it did occur to me that I should come over here with her, have a sort of long holiday to see if being in her Greece would help, but, really, there is no way I could take the time off work. But if you are really willing?’

‘
Absolutely.’ Sarah breaths more easily. He has a pleasant nature. The way he pronounces some words, she now notices, is like Nicolaos. His accent is a mix of American and Greek, but still with a hint of an Australian twang.

‘
I have given it some thought and I am still not decided if it is the best for Mama. As for you being a housekeeper for the place, if you are serious and having Mama here is not one of your conditions, let’s discuss it in more detail after the wedding. I cannot, for love nor money, find someone I feel comfortable leaving the place in the hands of, but if you have half the ability of Finn, I couldn’t wish for anyone better, so I feel very hopeful.’ Jim’s voice is soft but something in the confidence behind the words shows all the traits Sarah would imagine of a hardened businessman.

‘
I had not thought of being here without Frona,’ Sarah begins. ‘But, well, I will give that some thought, too. After the wedding would be a good time to thrash things out.’ Maybe ‘thrash things out’ is a bit of an over-the-top turn of phrase; after all, it is only a housekeeping job, hardly ‘thrashing’ material, but the last time she discussed her employment was when she and Liz took the jobs in Douglas. It all feels very alien.

‘
Ha!’ His laugh is light, as if he has taken her comment as a joke. He also audibly breathes out and it occurs to Sarah that maybe finding a housekeeper weighs more heavily on him than she has imagined it could. ‘Yes, let’s beat the terms and conditions into submission after the wedding.’ He laughs again. He will be an easy person to discuss the idea with. ‘But now, about tonight,’ he adds.

Grabbing her handbag from the chest of drawers
, Sarah pulls out her diary and thumbs to today’s date. Nothing. No note, no scrawled reminder. ‘Tonight,’ Sarah half-asks and half-states, hoping Jim will fill in the rest.

‘
I have found a gun for your husband and rice enough for everyone, so just come as you are.’

‘
Ah!’ Sarah has no idea what he is talking about but if anyone is having a gun, it will be her.

‘
So just to let you know to come when you are ready, really. There is enough food for the whole village.’ He chuckles as he speaks. ‘See you soon.’ And the line is dead.

Texting Helena seem
s the best idea. Happy to let the rice and guns reveal their purpose during the evening, she simply asks what time. She is rewarded by an instant response. ‘Whenever you are ready.’ So unhelpful.

In a second text to Joss
, she asks what time he is going, and importantly, where he is going, and this time she gets a more concrete answer. ‘Helena’s about eight or whenever Pru wakes up.’ Eight seems about right to be eating and presumably they will be staying up late, too, enlivened in the cool of the night air. A sleep now would be a good idea, let her mind shut down for a bit, calm her thinking. Her stomach turns as she recalls Laurence’s words and with it come the images of Torin’s death.

Searching through pockets
, she finds her four pebbles. She rolls them through her fingers, feeling each one in turn. One from the still warmth of the gully surrounded by thousands of humming bees, one from her late night chat with Finn by the pool under a million stars—such a special night. One that Nicolaos threw at her feet like she was a goat, cheeky man. She gives this one a squeeze. The fourth one from the picnic on the hillside with Frona and Nicolaos still has some traces of red earth on it. She rubs at it with her thumb.

Tucking them under the cool pillow with her hand on top
, she calms her mind and tries to look forward. ‘I will have enough pebbles a year from now to fill a bucket.’ Her eyes close and she drifts into sleep.

The sky is still light when she wakes. She cannot have slept long, but she feels refreshed until the overheard conversation rushes back to her and the room loses some colour, but the memory of the conversation with Jim quickly follows. Twisting her wrist, she checks the time and relaxes. There is time to change and walk to Helena’s. She can still hear voices next door. What does she do about Laurence tonight? Does he even know they are due to go to Helena’s? It would be adult and responsible of her to tell him tonight’s arrangements, and Finn would want her to, but a part of her would enjoy leaving him out in the cold. Ignore him. He deserves nothing from her.

Taking her time to shower and dress
, she hears Neville making all the noises that lets her know he is leaving. He and Laurence are now standing on the decking, their backs to the bedroom patio window. Laurence is complaining that she is missing, and something about her being irresponsible. Neville asks if she will have forgotten about the gathering tonight, to which Laurence replies, ‘Probably’.

‘
Well, I’d better push off, get Liz in gear. Takes her an age to get ready,’ Laurence responds. Sarah sees an opportunity, and the two men jump as she pushes open the patio door. The outside heat has dropped, but it is still very warm.

‘
I’ll come up with you, Neville. Give Liz a hand.’ Sarah walks around them both and climbs into the passenger seat of Neville’s car.

Laurence
’s mouth is open, his eyes wide. He begins a sentence, ‘Where have you ...’ But seeing Neville’s smirk, twisting his keys between his fingers, he acts as if her behaviour is the most natural thing in the world.

‘
See you later, then. Come up to ours and we’ll all go together,’ Neville says as he climbs in beside Sarah and gives a brief wave, then cranes his neck round to reverse down the lane. Laurence is coming out of the gate, his mouth shut now. He is waving but frowning. It won’t be long before he follows them up to Neville’s villa.

‘
You look awfully pretty.’ Neville drives with one hand on the wheel, the other, nearest the passenger seat, remains on the gear stick. Sarah shifts her knees towards the door. She does not answer him. Does she tell Liz what she heard Laurence say? Would it help Liz if she knew, or would it just open old wounds? Really, everyone should know what an evil piece of dirt Laurence is, but to what end? To upset Finn and Joss? To renew Liz’s pain? After all, Neville is Laurence’s cousin. That’s not going to feel great to Liz, her own brother killed by a blood relation of her husband. But then, why should Sarah be on her own with this?

‘
You’re very quiet. Everything okay?’ Neville takes his hand from the gear stick and reaches across towards Sarah’s knee.

‘
I hear you are moving your ex-wife in with you. Was it not enough that Liz looked after your mother all these years?’ Neville’s hand hovers before he withdraws it to the steering wheel.

‘
Well, I think that’s a bit strong.’ The colour has drained from his face. His eyes are glued on the road. Sarah’s hands are trembling. What is possessing her? She interlocks her fingers. Can she retract her words, shift the meaning, smooth out the harshness? She tries rephrasing the sentence in her head but before she has finished, she is speaking again.

‘
Do you? Imagine how it is for Liz after all your talk of the things you were going to do together.’ But at that moment, Sarah cannot recall anything specific except the sailing, and she cannot remember which islands Liz said they dreamed of sailing around. She closes her mouth and stares out of the side window. Liz is going to kill her; she is way off the ‘not discussing each other’s husbands’ rule.

‘
Well, things change,’ Neville defends himself as he puts his foot down on the accelerator, his knuckles white as he grips the wheel. They crest the hill and Liz and Neville’s villa becomes visible. Nicolaos’s villa, Sarah corrects herself. She manages to hold her tongue but as the tyres crunch to a standstill, she hears more words hissing from her own mouth, sharp but calm.

‘
You owe her.’ She slides out and slams the car door hard before marching into the house. ‘Liz, you there?’ she calls loudly. She calls again once inside.

‘
Out by the pool’ There’s a sound of splashing, ‘Bring the martini, oh, and some ice. Glasses are by the sink if you want one.’

The side door is open, but the back door that Nicolaos barged in by is closed. Sarah
’s eyes are drawn to the floor, searching for tell-tale pills. It’s clean. Gathering the requested items, she makes her way outside. The cicadas are deafening.

‘
Wow, you look nice,’ Liz greets Sarah as she walks round the poolside, bottle and a glass of ice in her hand. ‘I haven’t even thought about what to wear tonight. What is it exactly, sort a pre-wedding do? Where’s Laurence?’

‘
Laurence wasn’t ready; I got a lift with Neville. I’m not really sure what tonight is about. Where’s your glass?’ Liz, floating on a rather deflated-looking lilo points to the far end of the pool. Sarah pours a generous measure and tops it with the warm lemonade that is sitting in the sun next to the empty glass.

‘
You not having one?’ Liz asks.

‘
I think it will be a long evening.’ The words sound brittle as they resonate through her. She does not know where she will go after the party, but she will not be going back with Laurence. A streak of black humour tells her there is always a worn board to lie on at Nike and Puma’s hut.

‘
You okay? You don’t quite look yourself.’ Liz paddles towards Sarah and the refilled glass. Liz’s hat is so wide, she has to tilt her head back to meet Sarah’s gaze. If Sarah is going to tell Liz that Laurence killed Torin, now would be as good a time as any.

‘
I need to tell you something.’ Sarah tries to hold Liz’s gaze. Her friend suddenly looks fragile as she breaks eye contact.

‘
I know,’ Liz states but still looks away.