The Villa (18 page)

She had helped him heal, her airman, and then she had given him her heart. It had been so easy, so natural. She had loved him. Sometimes she thought she would always love him. That
he’d haunt her till her dying day. That she’d never be free.

Mama must have sensed the danger. Or Maria told her. She spoke to Papa and they stopped her from spending time with him alone. But it was too late by then. Much, much too late.

Tess was restless now that she was back in Pridehaven. She wasn’t looking forward to going back to work, it was raining and the house looked suspiciously tidy. ‘Anything happen while I was away?’ she asked Ginny, who had been studiously avoiding her eye since Tess’s return.

‘Happen?’ she echoed. ‘Not really. Why?’

‘Everything looks cleaner,’ Tess said, regarding her daughter’s reflection in the art deco mirror above the fireplace. Ginny was on her laptop – revision or Facebook? Who could tell? Personally, she didn’t understand why it was necessary to tell dozens of acquaintances the minutiae of one’s life – with illustrations; she worried that the real world was in danger of disappearing completely. But she knew she was in a minority.

‘We didn’t make that much of a mess.’ Ginny sounded defensive. ‘I just cleared up a bit afterwards, that’s all.’

Ah yes, the pizza and movie night in with the girls. ‘Great,’ said Tess.
Once upon a time you used to tell me everything
, she wanted to whisper. ‘Great.’ Only for some reason, she didn’t feel it.

At work, Simon Wheeler, her boss, called her into his office, known as The Goldfish Bowl, for obvious reasons – it was small, all glass and had no privacy.

‘About this job … ’ he said.

‘Yes?’ Tess was glad she was wearing heels, her cerise silk blouse, black jacket and pencil skirt. As supervisor, she’d have to look smart – for at least the illusion of control.

‘I’m afraid you were unlucky this time, Tess,’ he said.

‘Sorry?’ Had she misheard? And what did luck have to do with it? She had been given the impression that the job was hers.

‘We’ve given the position to Malcolm.’

‘Malcolm?’ She hadn’t been aware that Malcolm was even in the running. She leaned forwards. ‘But he’s only been here five minutes.’

‘Five months actually,’ Simon said smoothly. He tapped his pen on the desk top – an irritating habit which betrayed his discomfort. ‘And that isn’t the point, Tess. He’s had supervisory experience elsewhere. I’m sorry.’

She said nothing. There wasn’t much point. Simon and Malcolm went to the pub together sometimes and she was pretty sure Simon and his wife Marjorie had had Malcolm and Sheila round for dinner. Also, of course, not that she thought she’d ever have to say it – not in this day and age – but Malcolm was a man.

‘We gave you fair consideration.’ Simon straightened his tie. More discomfort. ‘You were an excellent candidate.’

‘Except that Malcolm was better,’ Tess said. Who would have thought it – the all-boys-together network operating at a west Dorset water company, for God’s sake?

‘He showed more commitment,’ Simon said. ‘More
ambition.’ He frowned. ‘I hope, Tess, that you won’t feel bitter about this.’

Commitment? Ambition? Tess got to her feet. ‘I’ll try not to,’ she said. Bitter …? Bitter …? She felt bloody angry, that’s what she felt. She felt passed over. Betrayed even. ‘But I do think that I deserved the post, Simon.’

Simon sighed. ‘It’s not easy managing a team, Tess,’ he said. ‘People skills are paramount. Handling people is not a breeze.’

‘I know that.’ It wasn’t fair. She had worked hard for this company, and until Malcolm had appeared …

She looked out of the Bowl. A couple of the girls were laughing and joking with Malcolm. People skills, she thought. Janice shot her a sympathetic look. They all knew, she realised.

‘I’d like to hand in my notice,’ she heard herself say. It sounded childish. But how could she stay here now? Everyone would be smirking behind her back, feeling sorry for her or sucking up to Malcolm. And Malcolm would be her immediate boss.

‘Now, Tess.’ Simon too got to his feet. ‘I want you to mull this over. Decisions made in the heat of the moment—’

‘Are instinctive ones,’ she cut in, ‘and therefore probably sound.’

There was a pause. It wasn’t a friendly one.

Simon came over and put a slug-like hand on her shoulder. Tess wanted to brush it off, but she managed to restrain herself.

‘Give it more thought,’ he said. ‘Until you hand it to me in writing, I don’t know a thing about it, OK?’

Patronising git … Tess couldn’t bring herself to reply. She opened the door of the Goldfish Bowl and left his office, heading straight for the coffee machine. Damn it. The person she most wanted to tell was Robin. She wanted to hear his voice – calm and measured – hear his sympathy and absorb his righteous indignation.
Obviously, you’re the best person for the job, Tess
, he would say.
If he can’t see it, then he’s a fool
.

And yet … Robin didn’t think she was the best, did he? Tess fumbled with the polystyrene cup. Chose espresso, on a whim. To Robin she was also second best – because he wasn’t with her. He was with his number one – his wife.

And now she wanted to cry. Fuck. Espresso in hand she headed for the loos, hoping they’d be empty. She couldn’t face gossip or bitchy sympathy. Commitment? Bloody hell. How could you be committed to water?

In the Ladies, she gulped her coffee, which made her feel worse because it was so unlike the espresso Tonino had made for her in Sicily. In fact it was so unlike it that it didn’t deserve to be called coffee at all.

Sicily … She couldn’t get it out of her head. She couldn’t stop thinking about Segesta and the taste of ripe figs. She was beginning to wish Edward Westerman hadn’t even left her Villa Sirena; it had unsettled her, turned her life upside down, changed everything.

Back at her desk, she typed a letter of resignation.
I feel that
my skills and experience have not been fully appreciated
, she wrote.
And it is with some regret
… Yeah. Like hell.

She waited until 4 p.m. when she saw Simon go out to talk to Malcolm and then she put it on Simon’s desk. She got her things together, picked up her bag and left the office. So, she had chucked in her job. On principle. What now?

She had only been back from work a few minutes when Lisa rang.

‘I was looking out for you,’ she said. ‘But you went rushing inside like a mad thing. Are you OK?’

No, thought Tess. ‘Yes, of course,’ she said. She would tell Lisa – she told Lisa everything eventually, but just for now she wanted to curl up with it alone.

‘I wanted a word about Saturday night,’ Lisa said.

Saturday was Lisa’s fortieth and she was throwing a big party. Quite frankly, it was the last thing Tess was up for in her current mood, but as she’d told Lisa yesterday afternoon over coffee and caramel biscuits, she wouldn’t miss it for the world. ‘Yes? I can get round by four to give you a hand,’ she said.

‘Lovely, sweetie, but I forgot to say … ’ Lisa hesitated. ‘You’re welcome to bring Robin, OK?’

Tess sighed. Robin had tried to ring her three times today. And she hadn’t picked up. ‘I’m not really seeing Robin anymore. Not after Sicily.’ What would have happened, she wondered, if she had gone to Cetaria with Robin? Well, Tonino wouldn’t have happened, that was for sure. Not that
anything
had
happened. And if Giovanni was to be believed nothing
should
happen … But if she was still in love with Robin … She thought about it. The way she’d felt … Tonino’s almost kiss … She wouldn’t have responded – would she? She had to accept it – she and Robin were over.

Lisa laughed. ‘It’s not over till the fat lady sings, Tess. You haven’t actually finished with him yet, have you?’ Tess heard Lisa put her hand over the phone and hold a brief muttered conversation with one of her children.
I told you, it’s in the under stairs cupboard
…

‘No.’ What she needed, Tess decided, was a stiff drink. And then perhaps another.

‘What are you afraid of, Tess?’

Good question. What was she afraid of? That Robin would talk her round? That he’d persuade her, like he’d always persuaded her before, that she should go on seeing him, that things would change, that he’d leave Helen, that pigs might learn how to scuba dive … ‘I’ll do it,’ she said. Lisa was right. Tess had to sort it out properly. It was the only way forward.

‘OK.’ Lisa sounded pleased. ‘Good girl.’

At 7 p.m. Tess left Ginny and the latest
X Factor
boy band on full volume, got into her Fiat and drove towards the other side of town, where Robin lived. She’d done this several times since they’d been together. Fortunately, he’d never spotted her (at least so she assumed) and she’d never seen him. She wasn’t even sure why she did it. To get a glimpse of his other life perhaps?
Because she could? Or to see her – the fragile Helen who had to be fussed over and protected in a way that Tess had never been.

Not that she wanted to be, she reminded herself, indicating right and waiting for a gap in the traffic. But it might be nice for someone to want to.

She turned into his road. Robin probably bought his Sunday paper from that newsagent on the corner. Perhaps she wasn’t the sort of woman that men wanted to protect? She changed into third gear, but continued to drive slowly. After all, she’d given birth to her child (alone) and brought her up (alone). Often, she didn’t bother with lipstick. Her favourite clothes were jeans and a sloppy T-shirt (though she could scrub up as well as the next woman, she liked to think, and even Ginny thought she had great legs) and she cherished her independence. What room then for fussing over, for protection?

When she saw Robin, she was so shocked that she almost lost control of the car. He was strolling along the pavement looking perfectly at home (well, he did live here). By his side was a woman.

Tess clenched her hands more tightly around the steering wheel. Whatever she did, she must not draw attention to herself. Ha. The woman was tall, blonde and willowy, and looked about as much in need of protection as a rhinoceros. Not that she looked like a rhinoceros – unfortunately. She was sleek and attractive, she was smiling and she must be Helen.

Tess slowed as much as she dared. Robin had his arm round the waist of the non-fragile-looking Helen, as if he quite wanted it to be there. And just as she passed them, teeth gritted, mind in neutral,
you can do it, girl
… she saw from a quick sideways glance that he was laughing. Laughing! He was happy; they were both happy, Tess realised. How dare he be so happy …? She felt numb with shock. And if he was so happy with his wife, then … Why?

‘It’s quite a milestone, don’t you think?’

Tess turned to see who was addressing her. Male and forty-something – fair hair, red-faced, faint stubble. Shorter than Tess, overweight. Drinking beer. She took all this in before she even replied.

‘Forty?’ she said. ‘Yes, I reckon so.’

‘Not that you’d know.’ He looked her up and down with clear approval. ‘You haven’t reached it yet. Obviously.’

And you have – obviously. Tess made her smile vague. ‘Excuse me.’ And drifted towards the food table.

Mitch was piling a plate high with chicken, crisps and coleslaw. ‘Thought your luck was in then, Tessie,’ he joked.

‘Save me.’ He was such a type. The type you found at parties alone, when you went to parties alone. Like she did. And for how long, she wondered. For how long would she be the single unattached woman at parties? What was the
matter
with her for God’s sake? She helped herself to food – more for a distraction than because she was hungry. It was high time she did something about it.

‘OK,’ said Mitch. ‘Only it’s my wife’s birthday party so I won’t be available all night, I’m afraid.’ He waggled a bottle of cava at her and Tess held out her glass for a refill.

‘What’s wrong with me, Mitch?’ she asked. And that was another thing. These days she tended to get maudlin at parties.

‘Nothing that I can see.’ He patted her shoulder.

Was she too fussy? Did she want something that didn’t exist? Or was she stuck in a cyclical pattern – attracting the wrong kind of man and then regretting it later? Like Robin. That hadn’t sunk in either. It was still hovering on the edge of things as if Tess wasn’t quite sure what to feel. But one thing she did know. The second she saw him with his not-so-fragile Helen, it was over. Really over. Even more over than it had been when she’d known it was … over. She just hadn’t told him yet.

‘Great party,’ she told Mitch. ‘Who are all these people?’ Lisa had introduced her to the first arrivals and Ginny had been here too for a while, but after that the party had swept ahead on its own impetus as more people arrived and joined in the melee, Lisa – as hostess and birthday girl – at the centre. Mitch had laid out tables for food in the living room and people were sitting on sofas and various chairs, or milling around with glasses and plates of nibbles doing party small talk. Ginny – predictably – had left to meet up with a friend.

‘Oh, who knows?’ He shrugged. ‘Friends, work colleagues, parents of the kids’ friends, rellies, the odd neighbour or two, you know.’ He winked. ‘Do you think it’s time for the cake?’

Tess spied Lisa on the other side of the room talking to the forty-something guy. She caught Tess’s eye and made a frantic signal. It looked like ‘help!’

‘Yes,’ Tess told him. ‘ASAP I’d say.’

She squeezed through the throng. He was right about one thing though – forty was a milestone, and it would be Tess’s turn soon. Lisa at least had Mitch and a proper family. Tess’s life was so unsorted. No man, no job, daughter about to fly off into the World Outside and growing further away from her with every day that passed by. Oh yes, and a house in Sicily. A smile crept on to her face.

When she got to Lisa’s side she grabbed her friend’s arm and propelled her away. ‘Sorry,’ she said to him. ‘I have to steal her. Come on, birthday girl.’

‘Thank you,’ breathed Lisa, who, Tess had to say, was looking stunning in a simple black minidress with a scooped neck and the white-gold jewellery her husband had bought her for her birthday.