Summer Loving (6 page)

How indeed?

A few seconds too late, Estelle laughs her head off.

Four

Estelle and I stand outside the hotel to see Franklin and Tybalt off at about ten to eleven. They were in some huge jeep-like thing that I think Tybalt had hired, with plenty of room for their golf clubs in the back. Tybalt was driving. As I kissed Franklin goodbye, I could see no indication that he realised he’d be missing my birthday. Maybe he did realise and he just didn’t give a toss. It was hard to tell.

Anyway, I quite liked the idea of having a day or so to myself. I could catch up on my reading, pamper myself in the spa and avail myself of room service while watching movies. The only problem was Estelle. She knew which room I was in (like an idiot, I told her where we were) and, despite the size of this hotel, it would be hard not to bump into her at meal times or in the gym or whatever.

Even though it was only just before eleven, Estelle told me she was going up to her room to have a nap. She’d meet me for lunch in one of the restaurants at about twelve-fifteen. I haven’t planned my Estelle avoidance strategy yet, so I agreed to this.
             

I’d managed to get a closer look at her skin during breakfast. I’m not sure whether it was the sunlamp or the real sun that had been doing the damage, but I think it’s pretty irreversible. I almost feel sorry for her.

She was pretty severely made-up at breakfast, but she looked older than she did last night. When I first saw her I’d estimated somewhere between late twenties to mid-fifties, but I’ve had to revise that now. I think it’s more likely she’s late
thirties
to mid-fifties. I’m not being bitchy; it’s just an observation.

She’s very ‘up’ and perky at lunch, so much so that I wonder if she’s been taking something. Neither of us bothers with starters. I order something the waiter suggested which comprises a big tuna steak smothered with a delicious buttery, tomatoey sauce. He told me what it was called, but I forgot almost immediately. Estelle just has a local recipe, gaspacho soup, which smells so wonderful that I wish I’d ordered it as a starter. Estelle orders a bottle of
Outeiro
, which she insists I must try. I don’t really like drinking wine with lunch, but one has to make sacrifices sometimes!

When I think about it, it’s almost funny, the two of us sitting there with our fake boobs and fake blonde hair. It’s as if whatever we were before wasn’t quite good enough for the men in
our lives, so it had to change. And we both went along with it, perhaps because neither of us had any choice.             

Is that what it was? No choice? It’s as if both Franklin and Tybalt couldn’t get exactly what they wanted and it infuriated them, so they used their money to mould two compliant women into the next best thing.

I get a faint chill inside as I think of that. I’m ‘the next best thing’.

‘So tell me all about yourself, Saskia. Is there something that people call you apart from Saskia? It’s such a mouthful. Can I call you Sas? Or Sassy? Sassy is quite good, isn’t it. It’s got two meanings. It has part of your name in it, but at the same time people call other people sassy, don’t they? Sassy it is, then. I like that. Don’t sass me, that’s what people say, isn’t it? Or don’t ‘dis’ me? That’s another one. I’ve never quite understood that one, though.’

I’m getting a slight headache from this. Maybe she’s nervous or something.

‘So, Sassy. Where are you from?’

‘Bristol, originally. My family have always lived in that area.’

‘And how old are you now? I hope you don’t mind me asking. When people are friends they usually know a lot about each other, but we don’t know anything, do we, so we just need to catch up. I hope you don’t think I’m being nosy or anything. I’m just naturally curious about new people.’

‘That’s OK. I don’t mind. I’m twenty-seven.’

‘You have such beautiful soft skin! I thought you were younger. I’d have put you at twenty-two or twenty-three.’

‘Thank you.’

I stop myself from asking ‘How old are
you
, Estelle?’ I somehow feel that it would kill the wonderful atmosphere we’ve built up.

‘So how old were you when you met Franklin? He’s so marvellous, isn’t he? As a businessman, I mean. All those years and years of experience and he’s still at it when most men would have long retired.’

Miaou!

‘I must have been twenty-five when we met. What about you and Tybalt?’ I’ve somehow got to knock the ball back into her court. I’m being too nice. ‘You seem like you’ve been together for quite a while.’

‘Do we give that impression? Oh my god – people must think we’re an old married couple or something! So you’ve been with Franklin for about two years, then.’

This is all bloody one way, isn’t it?

‘That’s right. Two years. You seem much younger than Tybalt, if you don’t mind me saying.’

‘Not as young as you are compared to Franklin, I suspect.’

‘How old is Tybalt now? I’m sure Franklin told me, but it seems to have slipped my mind.’

‘Tybalt would be…’ She looks up to the ceiling and her eyes flicker, as if she’s doing some sort of difficult calculation. ‘Well, he must be all of sixty-four now. That’d be about five years younger than Franklin, wouldn’t it, dear?’

I take a large swig of my wine.

‘Franklin’s very young looking for his age, though. And very lively.’

Estelle smiles an enigmatic smile. ‘I think all that golf keeps them active. Gives them lots of stamina. Do you find that? Sometimes I can’t keep up with Tybalt. He’s very vigorous.’

‘How often does he play?’

‘Well, when we’re on holiday, it can be twice a day.’

‘Really? It’s good for a man to have a hobby.’

What are we talking about here?

‘I worry about him sometimes, though. He’s still got quite an eye for the ladies. Particularly the younger ones. But they never take advantage of him. I think they know they’ll incur my wrath!’

She laughs loudly at this idea. She’s seen Tybalt looking at me.
She’s
warning
me
off
!

Under normal circumstances this would be quite funny, but to be honest, it’s a little annoying. I mean – as if.

Now she’s got that off her chest, and what a chest, she’s a little more relaxed. I decide to probe again.

‘So how did you meet Tybalt? I’m sure it was very romantic.’

Don’t worry. I’m not stupid. I was just saying that to be nice. Estelle rolls her eyes.

‘I was his secretary. I’d been working for him for four years and nothing had happened. He was always very cool towards me, though I knew he wanted me. I could see it in his eyes. I have to say that I use to fantasise about it happening quite a lot, if you know what I mean. Even when I was with other men, I’d think about him. I’m sure you do the same thing with Franklin. We all do, don’t we, girls like us.  He was so powerful and rich and that’s always been an incredible turn-on for me. He was married at the time and I wasn’t sure what was going on there.’

‘So did you start, er, going out when he was married?’

‘No. He seemed to be off limits, though one of the girls I worked with said that he’d had an affair with this girl in the mail room a couple of years before. Her name was Christine. She was blonde and very busty. All the men were drooling after her. They said he took her to Barcelona for some business trip. Everyone knew about it, though no one dared say anything. Apparently, she thought they were in Rome! Anyway, she got pregnant and he had to dismiss her. If you can’t stand the heat and so on…’

‘So how did you, er…’

‘He and his wife were getting divorced. It was a very stressful time for him, particularly as she was going to get a lot of his money. I was very understanding and comforted him.’

She laughs and rolls her eyes.

‘I first comforted him on the floor in his office!’

‘How lovely!’

‘After the divorce was over, we started seeing each other more frequently. He said it was an arrangement, not a relationship, but that was fine by me. I was divorced myself and wanted a bit of luxury and fun for a change. I wanted nice things and I wanted to visit other countries. Sound familiar? I’m just like you! He didn’t want to be tied down again. In the relationship sense of the word, anyway. All the golf’s a bit of a drag, but, you know…’

We order coffee and sit there, looking out at the sea for a few minutes. I notice that Estelle keeps staring at me. Her eyes are dead and humourless. I can’t imagine what she’s thinking.

‘I’m sure I must have said it before, Sassy, but you’re a very attractive young woman. You’ve got everything; the body, the face, the hair…’

Where is this going, I wonder?

‘… you know how to present yourself, how to make yourself beautiful, how to make yourself attractive to a man. They were all staring at you in that dress in the restaurant last night, even the women. I caught Tybalt giving you the eye on a few occasions, when he thought I wasn’t looking. But I was looking.’

‘Well, it was a very nice dress. And thank you. It’s nice to receive compliments.’

Even when they come with a large dose of jealousy, I’m thinking.

‘I’m forty-four, darling. I’m not going to get another chance like this or another life like this and I’m not going to let it go without a fight. Just thought I’d better let you know.’

‘What – you mean you think that…’

‘No need to say anything, sweetie. I think you’ve got the message. Let’s go to the gym, shall we? I fancy a swim.’

So, she’s warned me off Tybalt twice in half an hour. Paranoid or what? I truly can’t think of anything more insane. Tybalt is a chubby
slime ball who I don’t find attractive in the slightest and it would really have never occurred to me to pinch him off Estelle. She, presumably, thinks otherwise.

We stroll down to the gym area in silence. Once or twice, Estelle turns to me and smiles, as if our conversation in the restaurant had never happened.

‘I don’t know about you, Sassy, but since I had my boobs done, I find it a little uncomfortable to swim backstroke. Do you ever notice that?’

‘I can’t say that I have. I barely notice they’re there, to be honest.’

We swim in different lanes. Estelle goes in the slow lane and I go in the medium one. She does a leisurely breaststroke, whereas I switch between swimming styles and swim at a much faster pace. I guess because I learned relatively late in life, it’s much more of an enjoyable novelty for me. I love the feel of the water coursing past my body. It makes me feel more alive.

When I lived in Cornwall, I once asked Lucille if she’d come to the local pool with me and teach me how to swim. It was a disaster. Lucille had learnt in school when she was about seven and had even got all those medals that kids get. She could even dive off the top board. It was all so simple for her that she couldn’t understand how I managed to bypass the whole process. She couldn’t understand how I completely freaked out when my head went under the water and I came up spluttering and choking. Even though I was in the shallow end and my feet were touching the bottom of the pool, I still felt nervous and frightened.

Because of this she was a little impatient with me and we never tried it again. I’d wanted to learn so badly. I knew Kirstan was dying to show me how to surf and I wanted to get more confident in the water so he could. I’d seen what happened when surfers, even experienced ones like Kirstan, had been wiped out by a middle-sized wave. They’d get thrown sideways into a crashing wall of water and just as they were surfacing, the next wave would come along and put them back under again.

I didn’t think I could handle it. I could visualise myself choking and panicking. On top of that, your surfboard would often come speeding back towards your head. Kirstan had a scar on his left cheekbone where he’d been hit by his own board a few years earlier.

He didn’t mind, though. He understood. When I started to apologise about it, he’d put his arm around my waist and pull me towards him, kissing me on the mouth.

‘Forget it. It doesn’t matter. There’re loads of things you can do that I can’t.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like, um, giving change when you work behind the counter at the restaurant. I could never do that.’

‘Oh, bugger off.’

Estelle gets out of the pool before I do, but only by a few minutes. I decide to call a halt when my arm muscles start to hurt. Besides, I wanted to go to the loo.

I’m just opening my locker, when she appears right next to me, totally naked, her long hair still wet and draped around her neck and shoulders. Those boobs actually work better, so to speak, when she has no clothes on. They look much bigger, well-shaped and not so obviously fake. I would have expected the reverse.

She looks like the sort of woman you see in the tackier MILF porn shoots, and there’s a definite earthy sexuality about her. She even has a quite a six pack. I can’t imagine the number of stomach crunches you’d have to do to get that, and my own stomach muscles flinch involuntarily when I think about it. Even her thighs are well-muscled, doubtless from many hours in the gym.