Ibiza Summer (21 page)

‘But there’s a bit of a problem, you see,’ I said. ‘Because I’m classed as a minor out here, I’ll probably need my mum’s written permission before I
move and everything. I reckon she’ll have kittens when I tell her, but once Ellie, my sister, tells her how much I love you, I know she’ll be happy for me, because that’s what
mums do, right? So I’ll go back to London, explain everything, maybe sort out a bit of school stuff first and then come back out as soon as possible.’

Rex stared at me blankly.

‘Sorry, Iz,’ he said, sounding confused. ‘Maybe it’s the drugs or something, but you’re not making any sense.’

I knew he was right, but I wasn’t scared any more. He seemed so ecstatic that I’d said I would move to Ibiza and had looked at me with so much affection that I felt fearless.

‘Like I said, please don’t laugh or get angry but, well, I didn’t quite tell you the whole truth about myself. You see, I’m not really twenty-two. I’m sixteen. I
came on holiday with my older sister and
her
friends. I didn’t want you to know at first because I thought you wouldn’t be interested in me, so I kind of hid the truth from you a
little, even though I didn’t mean to. And then it just never seemed the right time to tell you. I didn’t tell my sister about you either at first but she found out about us and said I
had to tell you and then, well, this happened and I . . .’

The expression on Rex’s face was beginning to scare me. He looked so shocked I thought he might suddenly slip back into unconsciousness.

‘Rex – say something. I’m so sorry I lied, well, more hid the truth than lied,’ I said, in a vain attempt to soften the blow, ‘but I figured that it doesn’t
matter any more. We love each other and want to be together – and, well, you said age is just a number, remember?’ I said, my voice trailing off at the end.

‘You’re only sixteen?’ he said, his eyes wide with shock.

‘Nearly seventeen!’ I said brightly, although I could tell this wasn’t going exactly as I had hoped and a horrible panic had started to creep into my chest and was squeezing my
lungs, making it difficult for me to breathe.

‘I had no idea . . . I can’t believe you lied to me.’ Rex looked at me, confused. ‘You’re ten years younger than me and you didn’t think it would make a
difference? And you’re here on holiday with your older sister? I – I – can’t get my head round this . . .’

He looked hurt and angry and I was scared.

‘Please Rex, it doesn’t matter now —’

‘Doesn’t matter?’ he said, interrupting me. ‘It matters to me . . .’

‘I – I thought you wouldn’t want to know me if you found out, and well, I just presumed —’

‘You presumed wrong,’ he said, cutting in sharply. His voice sounded gruff and I passed him some water to sip. He’d been in a coma for three days and now he was getting all
distressed because of me and what I’d just told him. I should have picked my moment better, but it couldn’t wait any longer – it’s not like there is ever a good moment to
tell someone you love you’ve been lying to them.

I looked at him desperately. I could feel myself falling, falling deep down a dark hole with no one there to rescue me.

‘You’ve spun all these lies – made me believe . . . believe you were someone else,’ he said. His voice was less gruff, but strained and impassionate.

‘But I’m not someone else!’ I begged. ‘I’m me; I’m Izzy,
your
Izzy. Nothing’s changed.’

But I knew it had.

‘I think you had better go,’ he said with a stoic quietness.

‘Please Rex, don’t do this,’ I begged, and it sounded so undignified, but I didn’t care, I had nothing left to lose.

He looked away from me.

‘I love you!’ I said. ‘I really love you and I have meant every word I have ever said to you.’

‘Please Izzy, just go,’ he said with unfamiliar harshness. ‘I need time to think. My head’s spinning all over the place. I can’t make sense of it all.’

I stood there, my legs threatening to give way beneath me, and I wanted to scream.

I had just been so stupid, so foolish in thinking that he would just shrug his shoulders and say, ‘So what? Age is irrelevant when you’re in love.’ He couldn’t even bear
to look at me.

I got up to leave, tears streaking my cheeks, and I turned away so he couldn’t see my face.

‘I got you this,’ I said placing the little book,
The Cow and the Dog
, on the edge of the bed. And then I left.

cried solidly for two days, two whole days without seeing him, knowing that he was lying there, in a hospital bed
after a near-fatal accident, hating me for having lied to him. Ellie had told me I had done the right thing by telling him, but I had said that if that was the case then why did it hurt so much?
She couldn’t really answer me, which had made me feel even worse. On top of everything, we were due to go home tomorrow.

Ellie was right, I had been so naïve. Age wasn’t just a number – it
had
mattered to him, the fact I was so much younger.

I thought back to the conversation we’d had at his villa when we had talked about the future, our future together, and he’d hinted at settling down. There had been that moment of
doubt, a flicker of fear that we might want different things at different times because of the whole age gap thing. I had tried to gloss over it, to pretend it wasn’t an issue, but a small
part of me had been concerned. Would I be ready for marriage and children by the time he wanted them? Would I have experienced the things in life I hoped I would before that happened? I had felt
sure we could overcome any potential problems together, though – our love for each other conquering all.

I wondered if he now regretted having said all those amazing things that he had said to me, like how special I was and how he loved me. Did he want to take it all back now that he knew the
truth? Had it really changed everything?

I wondered what Rex had told his parents and Steve and Jo-Jo. They would ask why I hadn’t been at the hospital, and I felt a stabbing pain in my chest as I imagined their jaws dropping as
he told them what a liar I was and that he never wanted to see me again. I was so ashamed of myself. By not being brave enough to be honest, I had hurt the person I loved more than anyone. I felt
so sorry for myself, because I should have known that this would happen – that I, Izzy Jackson, was just such a loser, because even when something amazing like meeting Rex happened to me, I
had spectacularly blown it. And then I hated myself even more for feeling sorry for myself because I wasn’t the one lying in a hospital bed who might never walk again. I wondered if it was
possible to die from hating yourself so intensely, because I felt sure that if it was I would drop down dead that very minute.

It was no good. I had to see him before we left. I had to try and make him understand. Beg and plead for his forgiveness. He would see how much I really did love him and it would be enough to
cast aside his doubts. He would welcome me back into his arms and hold me and tell me that despite everything, the lying and the age difference, he knew in his heart that I was ‘the
one’ and that we would get there, just like the cow and the dog, against the odds.

I walked to the hospital. I felt that I needed to be alone and that maybe this would be my last chance to breathe in the Ibizan air that had been so fragrantly sweet and full of promise these
last three weeks. Soon I would be on a plane home and I might never get the chance to see the beach again, to watch the waves gently wash against the soft sand and the pine trees swaying in the
warm breeze. A small part of me was hopeful he would change his mind and forgive me and ask me to stay. I imagined him holding my hand in his and telling me that he couldn’t imagine his life
without me in it, just like I couldn’t imagine my life without him, and the world would once again feel as though it belonged only to us.

I walked along the dusty road and past the lush olive groves and orange trees, their branches heavy with fruit, and the small café where we’d drunk lattes and strawberry lassis, and
it was silent but for the jingle of the little bells on my bracelet.

It was close to sunset by the time I reached the hospital, and I was relieved when I saw that Rex’s family wasn’t around. The nurse led me through the white
swinging doors and I saw the familiar uncomfortable chairs that I had spent so long sitting on during the last few days. I knocked on the door.

‘I knew it would be you,’ he said as I entered. His tone was soft and more like it used to be. Instantly I felt more at ease. ‘I’m glad you came.’

I wanted to kiss him, but was frightened he would reject me. I knew I wouldn’t be able to cope with that so I resisted.

‘You are?’ I asked, hopefully.

‘Yes, I am,’ he said, and he smiled at me and held his arms out. I ran into them and he made a little ‘oof’ noise as if I had hurt him, so I relaxed a little and just
stayed there, breathing in the scent of him deeply.

‘I thought you hated me and never wanted to see me again,’ I said, resting my head underneath his chin.

‘I told you,’ he said, ‘I could never hate you, Izzy. I was just, well, shocked by your confession. It’s a lot to take in . . .’

‘I know, I’m sorry,’ I said, looking up at him now. ‘Please forgive me. I’m a fool. I was just so scared of losing you. I’ve never met anyone like you before
and I couldn’t believe it when you seemed genuinely interested in me. I knew, well, I thought that if you knew I was that much younger, then you just wouldn’t want to know
me.’

He smiled, but it was one of those smiles that you know people only give to make you feel better and I could feel the floor drop from beneath me.

He sighed ruefully, as he stroked my hair. I started to cry again, those wretched tears, and he brushed them away, every single one that fell from my eyes.

I sensed I was losing him. I was watching him slip away before my very eyes and deep down I knew there was nothing I could do. But I had to try. I couldn’t give up on him, on us . . .

‘I still want to come out here to live, to be with you,’ I said, desperately. ‘I figure as long as I do well in my studies and everything, Mum’ll give me her blessing and
maybe even be happy for me and . . .’

I looked at him. His eyes seemed darker somehow, the brightness in them dull and distant. My world was falling apart at the seams like my nan’s old vintage bag which had burst in front of
him that time. ‘I’m sorry, Iz,’ he interrupted me gently. ‘It can’t happen.’

‘But you know everything now. No more secrets, I promise,’ I said, the panic engulfing me, carrying me away, kicking and screaming, to another place where Rex and I didn’t
exist.

‘I almost lost my leg and I’m going to be laid up in this hospital bed for months,’ he sighed. ‘The doctors reckon, if I’m lucky, I could be out around Christmas
time, and then I’ll have to have months and months of physiotherapy to help me walk again, if I ever do . . .’

I saw a sorrow in him that I’d never seen before. It wasn’t one of self-pity, more of resignation to a reality that he knew I couldn’t be part of.

‘You will!’ I cried, not wanting to hear him say stuff like that.

‘Well maybe, but it’s going to be a long, slow and probably painful process. My leg is being held together with more metal than a cutlery factory.’ He laughed a little, but I
couldn’t bring myself to. ‘I’ll need to be in a wheelchair for a while – they can’t say for how long – and maybe, if I do manage to learn to walk properly again,
I will need a stick, probably for the rest of my life. I’ll have a limp,’ he said coldly, although I could tell that really, like me, he was terrified. ‘I’ll be an invalid,
Iz,’ he said, his voice wavering now. ‘I’ll never be able to dive again like I used to, or run down the beach and dance on tables, or ride my moped or —’

I couldn’t bear to hear any more. ‘Stop! Of course you’ll be able to do those things,’ I told him, ‘and even better than before.’

‘Oh, Iz,’ he said, looking at me. He looked so bereft, as if seeing the pain in my eyes hurt him as much as it did me. ‘I’m not lying. It’s what they’ve told
me. It’s the truth. I have to accept it and so do you. You can’t come out here, not now. You have your whole life ahead of you. You mustn’t give your life up to look after a
cripple who’ll need help washing himself and getting dressed in the mornings.’ The harshness of his words wrapped around my throat and choked me. ‘You’re so young, and I
don’t mean to sound patronising, but it’s a fact, just as this is,’ he said, pointing to his leg. ‘So you have to go home and get on with your life; achieve all the things
you want to do, become a vet, swim with dolphins, see your friends, go clubbing – normal stuff.’