The Sunshine And Biscotti Club (19 page)

The drinks didn’t stop. Bruno brought them all shots and then there was more dancing. And suddenly, when Jessica looked up from where she was standing by the bar with Dex and Bruno, she saw Miles taking the stage with a couple of the old guys from the band.

‘What’s he doing?’ she asked Dex.

‘He’s been lured by the guitar,’ said Dex. ‘And copious amounts of booze. You should go up and sing.’

‘Oh get real.’ Jessica snorted.

‘Ms Jessica sings?’ said Bruno, surprised.

‘Oh yeah, pretty well actually.’

‘Like you’d know,’ Jessica said, shaking her head.

‘I’ve heard you in the office. When you think no one can hear.’

She turned to Bruno. ‘I don’t sing in the office.’

Bruno shrugged. ‘Fine with me if you did.’

And Jessica had to look away, feeling like she’d been caught out again for not being free-spirited enough. She shot Dex a look for being a stirrer and he sniggered.

On stage the sax player was counting them in and then a second later Miles was playing. Toe tapping, fingers strumming, smiling like he hadn’t had such fun in years. There was a guy with a harmonica and another playing the double bass. Dex started to clap and Jimmy came over to join them, pointing at Miles and doing a wolf whistle. Miles laughed. Jessica felt herself staring at him, mesmerised. Like he was twenty-two again, face relaxed, eyes half closed, shoulders low.

Libby and Eve appeared and Dex pointed to the stage; they both gasped when they saw Miles, both clapped and cheered.

People were dancing. The harmonica guy did a solo. Some kids splashed in the water. And Jessica watched. Watched as Miles laughed, as his knee bobbed, as his head nodded along.

Then the song changed.

She felt Dex straighten up next to her.

Saw Miles’s eyes flick open.

‘Shit.’ Libby covered her mouth.

‘What?’ Jessica frowned. ‘What’s wrong with this?’

‘It was their first dance,’ said Dex, running his hand through his hair with a frustrated sigh. ‘At the wedding.’

Miles had stopped playing.

‘Well, someone’s got to do something,’ said Jessica.

‘Like what?’ Dex held his hands wide.

Jimmy made a face. ‘The guy’s dying up there.’

Libby thwacked him on the chest.

‘Oh, for god’s sake.’ Jessica huffed and suddenly she found herself striding through the crowds. The bass player was looking awkwardly at the saxophonist, trying their best as Miles strummed absently out of rhythm, his eyes fixed on a spot just at the edge of the jetty.

And then all of a sudden Jessica was standing at the mic and she could hear herself singing before her brain had registered that this might actually be about to happen. And she heard the bass player perk up and get his confidence back and the guy on the harmonica came and stood next to her and tried to get her all involved, while Jessica was having to use all her energy simply to stay where she was. But then after a few seconds she glanced over her shoulder and saw that Miles had pulled himself together and was back in the game; he met her eye and nodded and she looked back, her shoulders dropping with relief, but that was when it really hit her where she was and what she was doing. Over by the bar she could hear Dex and Jimmy cheering and saw Libby and Eve come over to dance. She wondered if she could slip away now that Miles was OK, but then she caught sight of Bruno, standing a few feet in front of the bar, arms crossed, watching her with pure delight, his eyes sparkling, his mouth smiling, and she felt her breath hitch in her throat and a tiny nugget of pride swell in her chest. And all the locals kept on
dancing, and kept on drinking, half turning to look, half barely noticing that she was on the stage. And she felt suddenly like this was her swimming through the darkness. All those faces watching. All those ghosts. And it was both as terrifying and as liberating as she had imagined.

*

When the song ended the band took another break. Libby and the others crowded round to say lovely things about her singing and Miles stretched himself out and then said, ‘Think I might go and get a drink.’

Dex and Jimmy went with him.

Jessica watched him walk away. Libby and Eve were still talking; she tried to listen and make the right noises but then had to excuse herself.

‘I just need to cool down,’ she said, fanning her face as if she were boiling. ‘I’ll be back in a sec.’

They nodded. Their attention diverted as the original band took their places again and practically the whole place got up out of their seats and crowded the dancefloor.

Jessica slipped away to the tables furthest from the bar and the music, shrouded in darkness, where she sat on the ground and dipped her bare legs into the water. In the distance the ducks floated, grey in the moonlight. She could feel the remains of her adrenaline make her
hands start to shake as she rooted through her pockets for a piece of paper and called to one of the hipsters to borrow a biro.

As the water lapped, the reeds tangled soft around her feet and her instinct was to pull back, to move, but she couldn’t, her whole being focused on this one task as she started to write.

Dear Flo
,

I am sorry
.

Not just about what I said before your wedding but for everything. And the fact I haven’t said it until now
.

When I heard about the car crash I was devastated that you were gone because you were so alive and vibrant and vital. I couldn’t work out where all that energy could have gone. But awfully, shamefully, horribly, I wasn’t sorry. Because you had taken something I loved. I loved him so much. I felt like I couldn’t breathe for years. Every day I woke up and remembered I was missing something. And I realise that’s what Miles must feel like every day he wakes up without you. I can see now, I know now, that he was never mine. Nor I suppose was he yours. I’ve realised people are theirs to do with as they please. I’m not in love with him any more. And I am truly sorry for what I said. And I am more sorry for what you have lost. Yours was a life that should have lived longer
.

Jessica x

When she was finished she folded the piece of paper until it was half the size of a matchbox and threw it into the lake, watching it bob away like an origami boat. Then she stood up, wiped her eyes, brushed the water off her legs, and walked over to the bar to join the others.

They started later the next morning, blinding hangovers blighting the renovation progress. Jimmy had fallen asleep under the cherry tree and woken up with one half of his face sunburnt. Dex, Miles, and Libby carried on with the painting and sanding, while Eve and Jessica had been sent to the garage to sort through all the old previously discarded paintings, lighting, furniture, and knickknacks to see what might now be suitable for the revised interior design.

Giulia knocked tentatively on the door of Jimmy’s room where they were painting all the walls sky blue. ‘Ms Price,’ she said, and when Libby turned she saw another red reminder bill in Giulia’s hand.

‘Oh, hang on,’ she said, dropping her roller into the tray and jogging over to get the letter before Dex or Miles could see. ‘Thank you, thanks,’ she said, nodding to Giulia who gave her big eyes as a warning to get it paid.

Both men were watching when she glanced over her shoulder.

‘Everything all right, Libby?’ Dex asked.

‘Fine. Fine, I just need to pop downstairs,’ she said and took off to her office.

It was there, as she sat looking at the ever increasing pile of bills and quotes for work they’d requested, that she realised she hadn’t paid it because in the back of her mind she’d assumed Jake would take care of it when he got back.

The thought caught her up short.

Did she really ever think that she wouldn’t take Jake back? Even with Miles knocking softly on her door every night and slipping back to his own room at dawn, she had been living this gap in her life as temporary.

She realised that yes, she’d heard everything that everyone had said, and yes it made perfect sense, but when it really came down to it, she never had any intention of going it alone. The unpaid bills were surely testament to that.

As she sat fingering the brittle cellophane windows of the envelopes it occurred to her that she’d just been nodding along at advice—including her own—in an attempt to keep the peace.

She leant her elbows on the desk and rested her chin in her hands, looking up at all the files and papers on the shelves above her. Bulging box files that made her shudder. She didn’t want to do this on her own.

Her eye landed on a slim black book that she recognised as her aunt’s. It had always lived under the counter in the hallway. She slid it down from the shelf, opened it, and laughed when she saw what was in it. Lists and lists of people banned from the hotel bar, the reason, and for how long they weren’t allowed in. It made her giggle as she turned the pages. Columns of names, half of them the same, half of them surnames she recognised from the village.

Her aunt was a great believer in the idea that people could change if they wanted to. That was why she never kicked anyone out for good. But as she sat looking at all the names, the reoffenders, Libby realised that she had spent all this time wondering what she’d do if Jake said he’d changed, that he was sorry, when all the while she should have been questioning whether she could. Whether change was in her nature. Whether indeed she had not just the courage but the inclination and the determination to go it alone.

She sat and thought about it for a moment then gradually her eyes started to scan the desk and files, looking for the ones that had Jake’s passwords to their online business account; her hands started flicking quickly through the filing cabinet, working her way through all of the past transactions, trying to getting a handle on their incomings and outgoings. She found the files for invoices and the passwords, and looked through the folders at all the old bills.

And she realised that just opening the drawers, just logging into the accounts, made the weight she’d been dragging around a little less heavy.

She paid the most urgent bills and tried to get a grasp on their cash flow, then before heading back upstairs did a quick check of her emails.

And there it was. Just as she was starting to persuade herself that perhaps she did have the courage.

Lib
,

Sweetheart. I’m in Whistler with a group of heli-skiers. They needed a medic to go on the trip—a fortuitous chance for a bit of soul-searching for me. There’s nothing like watching the sunrise while at the top of a glacier to make one realise what a complete and utter prick one’s been
.

I know I have no right to even get in touch. But I’ve always thought it’s worth taking a risk in life. So even if I’m relegated to Trash before you even read this then I still know it was worth trying
.

God I’m an idiot. I look in the mirror and I just see an idiot staring back. An idiot who put a bullet through his perfect life. And the only reason I can come up with is that I must have been scared. It was all the change—the move, it’s so isolated, there was a lot of pressure with the hotel—but away from it, from you, I see that I was completely wrong. (Hard for me to admit, as you can well imagine.)

I feel like half of my whole—like I’m only walking on one leg!

I love you
.

I made a terrible mistake
.

I need to be forgiven. I need to be loved by you for the rest of my life
.

So I’m taking one more risk. My plane lands tomorrow lunchtime. I’m coming to get my wife back. I will fight for you, Libby Price
.

Jake
.

Libby had to go outside.

She closed her emails and got up, left the office, and walked out onto the terrace, ready to make a dash for the lemon groves before anyone saw her.

But Jimmy was sitting alone at a table in the far corner having a glass of water and escaping from the sun. One half of his face was an angry sunburnt red. He waved her over when she stepped outside.

In the distance the sun was settling into the late afternoon, resting heavy on the treetops waiting for bed.

‘Doesn’t look good, does it?’ Jimmy said, pointing to his face.

Libby shook her head. She really wanted to be on her own. ‘Have you put anything on it?’

‘Your Giulia gave me some aloe vera.’

‘That should help,’ Libby said, wondering if it would be rude to leave him there and carry on to the lemon grove.

‘You wanna sit down?’ he asked.

‘OK,’ she said, as brightly as she could, snatching a fleeting longing glance at the dark shade of the lemon trees before pulling out a chair.

‘You all right?’ Jimmy asked, sitting forward and taking a sip of his water.

‘Yeah, you?’ she said.

‘Well, apart from the face, yeah, good.’ He nodded. They sat in silence for a second and just as it was starting to get awkward Jimmy said, ‘So Jake’s coming back.’

Libby frowned. How did Jimmy know?

‘He emailed me earlier,’ Jimmy said, reading her thoughts. ‘Talking about doing some fishing before I fly out.’

They were friends. Libby knew they were friends, but really? He’d emailed about fishing? Completely confident that he was just going to slip back in, unquestioned. But then when had she ever given him cause to think that he wouldn’t. She hadn’t even thrown him out when she’d confronted him about the website because he’d got in there first by saying he would leave.

‘That’s OK with you? Yeah?’ Jimmy asked, hand on his water glass about to raise it to his lips. ‘I presumed he’d been in touch with you, too,’ he said, taking a
gulp then holding the cool glass up against his burning cheek.

‘Yeah, yeah, absolutely.’ Libby shrugged as if she was completely on board and knew exactly what was going on.

She felt Jimmy eyeing her with uncertainty and after a second or two he sat right forward and said, ‘Look, Libby, I’ve been meaning to say, about what I said about Jake in the past—I’m really sorry that you heard that.’

She stared at him, half frowning, half unsure. ‘Are you sorry I heard or sorry you didn’t tell me?’ she asked.

Jimmy opened his mouth to reply but changed his mind. Instead he put his hands in the pockets of his cargo trousers and sat back again, his face hardening ever so slightly. ‘I’m sorry you heard,’ he said. ‘I would never want to intentionally hurt you.’

Libby narrowed her eyes. ‘But you’ve hurt me by not telling me.’

‘I couldn’t have told you,’ Jimmy said. ‘It was never my place. If something’s meant to happen in life, Libby, it’ll happen. That’s my philosophy.’

But it didn’t sound like a philosophy at all. It sounded like a cop out. A way of shifting all responsibility away from oneself. And suddenly Libby realised that that was precisely how she had lived. She let the actions in her life be controlled by other people.

‘Isn’t that just sitting on the fence, Jimmy?’ she said. Then added, almost as much to herself, ‘When do you ever fight for anything?’

Jimmy held up his hands as though he was under attack. ‘All right Libby, calm down.’

‘I’m serious,’ she said. ‘If you just let it play out it means you never get down from the fence.’

Jimmy finished the rest of his water and stood up without answering. ‘I’m going to go back to the garden,’ he said.

Libby nodded. She watched him jog away, almost as fast as was polite, and felt the frustration of his passivity course through her.

She realised it must be what Eve thought about her when she talked about Jake and the blog.

Libby leant back in her chair with a sigh and looked across at the lemons, like fat little suns hanging among the waxy leaves. She stared at all the trunks, rows and rows like soldiers lining up for battle. She thought about her swims with her aunt, crunching through the grove to get there, surrounded by the sharp bitter scent of citrus. And she thought suddenly that she would do anything to save this. That she
wanted
to do it, even if it was alone. She would never let it go. It was a part of who she was. Their roots were her roots.