Wish You Were Here (14 page)

Message Charlie:
Hi, just thought you'd like to know I'm lying on a beach, drinking fluorescent cocktails served by topless hula ladies. How about you? C x

A minute later I got the following reply:

Message Lisa:
I'm at work. My back aches, I have a headache and it's raining. Keep holiday chirpiness to yourself! L x

To which I replied:

Message Charlie:
I'm actually sitting on the balcony of our apartment watching (in strictly non-pervy way) a bunch of nineteen-year-old girls have a water fight. C x

To which she replied:

Message Lisa:
What have you guys been up to today? Did you remind Andy about the suncream? L x

To which I replied:

Message Charlie:
Hung out on beach all day. And yes, I did remind Andy about suncream. C x

To which she replied:

Message Lisa:
What are you up to tonight? L x

To which I replied:

Message Charlie:
Haven't decided. What about you? C x

To which she replied:

Message Lisa:
Staying in wishing I was sunning myself in Crete too. L x

To which I replied:

Message Charlie:
You should guilt-trip Andy into taking you away. C x

To which she replied:

Message Lisa:
Can't. He has no conscience. L x

To which I replied:

Message Charlie:
I'll get him one for Christmas! C xxx

To which she replied:

Message Lisa:
I'd better go. Have a great rest of holiday. PS. Look after my man. L x

The time that elapsed between the first text message and the last was just under an hour and during all that time I didn't return to
The Da Vinci Code
even once.

The sound of keys rattling in the front door signalled Andy's return to the apartment. I looked across at Tom. Though neither of us spoke, I knew that we both wanted to achieve the same thing: to look as sufficiently uninterested in Andy, Nina (should he have brought her along), and his whereabouts for the last twenty-four hours as was humanly possible. Tom opted to frown at his book as though mulling over a particularly well-structured paragraph, while I chose to un-mute the TV and stare at it, looking vaguely bemused.

‘You can call off the search party,' said Andy striding into the bedroom. ‘I'm back.'

Tom (who I have to say excelled in his attempts at projecting general uninterest) finished the sentence he was reading before looking up at Andy. I preferred to stare blankly as though I only vaguely recognised him.

‘Okay, I get it,' said Andy bullishly, ‘you're both wound up at me for being away so long.'

‘Yeah, that's it in a nutshell,' replied Tom. ‘We've been lost without you.'

Ignoring Tom, Andy deliberately focused his attempts at ingratiation on me. ‘Come on, Charlie,' he nearly but not quite pleaded. ‘You can understand can't you, mate? I mean you've seen her right? She's amazing.'

Without replying I got up, walked over to the chest of drawers, put my sunglasses back inside their case and began sorting out my suitcase.

Realising I was ignoring him, Andy sighed in my direction as though he was really disappointed in me. ‘How long are you two going to be like this?' he asked.

‘Like what?' I replied.

‘Like you're my dad,' he said. ‘Do you know what? Nina didn't want me to leave her and come here.'

‘So why did you?' I asked.

‘Because I hadn't seen you guys all day.'

Tom laughed. ‘And are we supposed to feel flattered?'

‘You're not supposed to feel anything,' replied Andy. ‘Look, I—' He stopped suddenly, rolled his eyes in frustration and tried a different approach to the problem. ‘Hey, Charlie,' he began. ‘Did that girl you were supposed to meet last night ever turn up?' he asked. ‘You know, the one in the cowboy hat?'

‘No,' I replied.

‘Bad luck, mate.'

‘It was no big loss.'

‘Still, you shouldn't give up yet. How about this? Why don't you come out with me tonight and meet Nina's mates? We're going to Flares. Do you remember it from last time? It's that seventies bar we used to go to sometimes where they played that
Match of the Day
theme tune and then everyone would do that dance – do you remember?'

‘It's not
Match of the Day
,' corrected Tom. ‘It's
Ski Sunday
.'

‘Same difference.'

‘No,' replied Tom. ‘I think you'll find that one is dedicated to the sport of football and the other skiing.'

I wanted to laugh but I could see that Andy was running out of patience. ‘Come on, guys,' he said adding a hint of joviality to his plea, ‘both of you come out tonight. I guarantee you we'll have a laugh. Nina's mates are good fun.'

‘What about her sister?' I asked, hoping that Andy wouldn't make a big deal about it. ‘Tom and I met her last night after you left Pandemonium: shortish, dark-hair, nice-looking, dry sense of humour. More our sort of age than most girls in Malia.'

‘That sounds like Donna all right.' Andy grinned. ‘You don't fancy her do you?'

‘Of course not,' I lied, making a mental note of her name. ‘She just seemed nice, that's all.'

‘I haven't had much to do with her,' said Andy. ‘But since I'm currently in with her sister I'm sure a word from me could put you in good stead.'

‘No thanks,' I replied. ‘I'm good.'

‘You're nowhere near good,' said Andy, ‘Look, mate, unlike some people . . .' he paused and looked pointedly at Tom, ‘. . . I haven't forgotten what this holiday is all about – it's about you moving on. And the best way of doing that would be for you to come out with me tonight. Forget Sarah. Forget the girl-in-the-cowboy-hat. And forget Nina's sister too. Because I've spent all day telling Nina's mates about how wonderful “my mate, Charlie” is. Mate, I guarantee they're practically gagging for you. I've built you up so much they already think you're the greatest thing since sliced bread. All of which means at least one of them has got to be a dead cert.'

‘A “dead cert”?' I repeated disdainfully at the thought of Andy's selling me to Nina's friends as though I was a sack of potatoes past their sell-by date.

‘Yeah,' replied Andy stubbornly refusing to pick up on my sarcasm. ‘A “dead cert”.'

‘Well, much as I'd like to be the beneficiary of your charitable efforts to get me sex,' I replied, ‘I'm going to have to say no this time.'

‘Why?' asked Andy.

‘Because Tom and I have already got plans.'

Andy looked confused. ‘What plans?'

At this point it would have been perfect if the plans Tom and I had in mind had been the type that involved excessive drinking, lap-dancing clubs and the possibility of rubbing shoulders with a female celebrity or two.

‘We're going to a village up in the hills that Tom's
Rough Guide
recommends,' I explained feebly. ‘It's got a church . . . and some shops . . . and a taverna. You can come if you want.'

‘Let me get this right,' said Andy his eyes straining with incredulity. ‘You're turning down a night out with hot girls for a trip to a village with a Christian?'

‘Well, if you'd given us a bit more notice . . . like this morning . . . or even this afternoon we might have been able to come,' I replied. ‘But the fact is we've made plans, mate. It's just the way it is.'

‘Fine,' snapped Andy, ‘you stick to your village people plans and I'll stick to mine.'

There was a long uncomfortable silence while we all sort of stared at each other.

‘Anyway,' I began softly in a bid to appease Andy. ‘I'd be rubbish company for girls tonight anyway. I'd just end up cramping your style.' I paused and, a diversionary tactic I'd cultivated over the many years I'd known Andy, I decided to flatter his ego. ‘Nina's a bit spectacular,' I said raising my eyebrows suggestively. ‘Tell us about her.'

‘Like what?' said Andy, making a token effort to resist my flattery.

‘Like what does she do?'

‘She works in TV.'

‘Doing what?'

‘She's a production secretary.'

‘How old is she?'

‘Twenty-five.'

‘When's her birthday?'

‘November the—' Andy stopped suddenly and began laughing. ‘All right, Mansell, you've had your fun. Let's move on with the questions.'

‘Hang on,' said Tom, ‘I've got one I'd like to ask.'

‘Go on then,' said Andy.

‘I know I said I wasn't going to get involved but I'm curious to find out how long you're going to carry this on?'

Andy turned to face Tom but neither man spoke for several moments.

‘I'm not in the mood for this, Tom,' said Andy coolly. ‘So for your benefit and the benefit of Charlie I'll say it once: this is just a holiday thing. It's not going to last forever so there's no need to tell anyone anything. I know you two think that you're somehow morally superior to me but this is something I've got to do, okay? And none of it is any of your business—' Andy stopped abruptly and pulled out his mobile from his back pocket. ‘It's Lisa,' he said looking at the screen. ‘I'll be back in a minute.'

Tom and I exchanged wary glances as Andy left the room to take the call on the balcony.

‘I think we're being too hard on him,' I whispered to Tom as Andy slid back the patio doors. ‘After all, none of this is our business.'

‘Look,' said Tom, ‘if you want to go to the club with Andy then you should go. But whether you come or not my plans for this evening involve going to Mohos.'

‘I'm still coming to the village,' I replied. ‘Nothing has changed there. All I'm saying is I think this night out Andy has planned is his way of saying sorry for being away all day. I think he really wants us to come out tonight.'

‘Maybe he does,' said Tom. ‘But do you know what, Charlie? I don't think I could put up with his nonsense tonight even if I wanted to.' Tom smiled mischievously. ‘But you should go, mate, if you really want to.'

‘What are you smiling about?' I asked.

‘You, and your big speech about Andy wanting us to go with him. You just want to see Nina's sister again, don't you?'

‘Yeah right,' I replied. ‘I only met her for about five seconds.'

‘There's no need to be defensive, mate. She seemed really nice. I can see why you'd be into her.'

‘And why would that be?'

‘She's just your type.'

‘And my type would be?'

‘Oh come on,' protested Tom. ‘You've always had a type. Even back in college. They were always pretty but not too pretty. Usually dark haired. Good dress sense. Look like they might be able to hold their own in a conversation about the meaning of life until the early hours . . . you know the sort of thing.'

‘Okay, okay,' I grinned. ‘You're right. I have got a type and Nina's sister did pretty much fit the bill. But I'm not going out with Andy tonight and that's final. Tonight it's just you, me and a village—' I stopped as Andy opened the patio doors and returned to the room, yawning.

‘Everything okay with Lisa?' I asked.

‘Yeah, fine,' replied Andy. ‘She was just ringing for a chat. I kept it short though. Told her we were going out in a minute.'

‘So what did you tell her?'

‘I said we'd spent the day hanging out by the hotel pool and then—'

‘You said what?' I spluttered.

Andy looked confused at my concern. ‘I told her we'd spent all afternoon by the hotel pool,' he repeated. ‘Which it so happens is actually what me and Nina did when we weren't—'

‘But why did you tell her we'd been by the pool?' I asked nervously.

‘Why shouldn't I have?' replied Andy. ‘It's not like she's going to know any different is—' Andy stopped abruptly and looked at me. ‘What aren't you telling me?'

It was a good question. There were a million things that I wasn't telling him. But at this moment everything would be a lot easier if I kept it down to just the things he needed to know.

‘Lisa sent me a text message this afternoon.'

Andy looked confused. ‘Why's she sending you text messages?'

‘It was something to do with Sarah,' I lied. ‘But you're sort of missing the point. In my reply to her message I told her that we'd spent the day at the beach.'

‘So?'

‘Well you've just told her we spent the whole day by the pool.'

‘So I mixed up swimming pool and beaches, so what?' said Andy. ‘I do that kind of thing all the time. Honestly, Charlie, you nearly gave me a heart attack acting like that.'

‘But aren't you even a little bit worried that she knows what's going on?'

‘Not at all,' said Andy sighing with relief. ‘I guarantee you, my friend, that she does not suspect a thing.'

Andy had long since gone back to Nina's when Tom and I finally left the apartment just after nine. As we waited for a taxi by the roadside I noted that as usual the streets of Malia were buzzing with young Brits on their way up to the strip. As they passed by I found myself scanning them in what I considered a detached academic manner, as though I were a TV documentary maker scouting locations for a reality TV series called ‘Malia Uncovered'. This pseudo-anthropological stance was, of course, simply a cover for me to stare at attractive girls in short skirts in the hope that one of them might be the girl-in-the-cowboy-hat.