“Thank you. I’m very pleased. So, how are you?” Delia asked.
“I’m good too. Not much to report; I have a meeting with Dad tomorrow to talk through the next projects, so maybe we can all have lunch together?”
“That would be nice.” Delia took a sip of her wine. “So how did you leave it with that chef? The one you were fighting with about the kitchen. Is she happy with the changes?”
“Yeah, she’s happy.” Marcy had told her mother about her arguments with Zoe and regretted that now, as she wouldn’t stop enquiring about the situation.
“She’d better be.” Delia huffed. “You bent over backwards for her, and she was still rude to you, the ungrateful girl.”
“It’s not like that. She’s not so bad,” Marcy said, reluctant to disclose more.
“Okay…” Delia frowned. “What made you change your mind? I thought you couldn’t stand to be in the same room. Did she apologise?” She patted Marcy’s arm. “Come on, dish the dirt. I want to know what’s going on in your life.”
Marcy hesitated while she sipped her wine. “As it happens, I actually apologised to Zoe,” she finally said. “Turns out we met a long time ago.”
“Oh. And you didn’t recognise her?”
“No. Unfortunately not.”
“Where did you know each other from?” Delia’s eyes widened. “Oh, dear. Please don’t tell me you slept with her and didn’t recognise her.” She gasped when Marcy didn’t answer. “Darling, that’s awful. No wonder she was angry with you.”
“I know. I feel bad enough about it as it is, Mum, so please don’t make it any worse.” Marcy downed the last of her wine and held out her glass for a refill. “Anyway, I bought her flowers, and she accepted my apology.” She shrugged. “So that’s that, I suppose.”
Delia nodded, but the look of concern had not left her face. “When did this happen?”
“I was nineteen, I think. I’m not even entirely sure, but it was around that age.” She paused. “I was drunk, and it was just a one-time thing. That’s why I didn’t remember.”
“Hmm.” Delia greeted a couple of passers-by and turned back to Marcy. “Nineteen and drunk, huh? I don’t remember ever seeing you drunk when you were younger.” A look of regret passed her features as she fell silent for a moment. “But I suppose your father was always working and I was… well, I was here, mainly.”
“It’s no big deal. All my friends drank at that age,” Marcy said. “I was a skinny lightweight and the two bottles of cheap, red wine I used to share with my friend on a Friday night always went straight to my head. Not that I needed a drink to chat up women. I’d discovered when we moved to Spain that I was quite popular with the ladies, and as soon as I cut my hair short girls suddenly just seemed to throw themselves at me.” Marcy shrugged. “I guess it wasn’t just the wine that went to my head.”
“You were always a confident girl,” Delia said. “I remember you telling me you were gay at the age of fourteen and I wasn’t the slightest bit surprised. But as you said, it wasn’t until we moved here that you really started dating. The Spanish girls were probably a lot more open-minded than the English girls in the small village we used to live in.”
“Yes, that’s true.” Marcy sighed. “Anyway, Zoe was just one of my many conquests back then and she looked so different, more boyish than she does now.”
“And you never thought about the consequences,” Delia said. “Do you remember how you met?”
“I do now. Zoe worked behind the bar of the place I regularly drank in. I used to go there every week, but I’d never really noticed her until she started talking to me one evening. I didn’t even know she liked women, she just seemed so… so straight, I suppose. She didn’t stand out in any way, and she certainly didn’t look like she does now.”
“You mean you think she’s attractive?” Delia shot her a curious look and Marcy felt busted. Of course, she thought Zoe was attractive; the woman was cute as hell and she had a body to die for.
“Yeah, I do.”
“Any chance there’s a little crush going on here? You’re blushing.”
“I’m so not blushing, and I don’t have a crush on Zoe,” Marcy was quick to say. “We’re not even friends and now that I’m nearly finished at El Escondite, we’ll probably never even see each other again.”
“That’s up to you, I suppose. You’ll know where to find her.” Delia smiled and held up a hand. “I’m sorry, I’ll stop teasing you so you can finish your story.”
Marcy shot her a warning look, wondering if she really was blushing as her cheeks felt a little hot. “Well, Zoe asked me what my name was and if I was local. I took that as a cue that she was interested and started flirting with her. Girls were a challenge to me, and I’d vowed to my friend to sleep with as many as I possibly could over my summer break. By the time Zoe finished her shift, she was more than happy to come to the beach with me. She never told me it was her first time.”
“Oh, God.” Delia looked at her intently. “And you never called her after that?”
“No. And then my friend moved away, so I stopped going to that bar.” Marcy looked away, afraid to face the judgement in her mother’s eyes. She’d rarely been so open with her, and she wondered why she’d started now. “Do you think I’m a bad person?”
“No, darling.” Delia stood up, cupped Marcy’s face and kissed her forehead. “I think you’re a wonderful, kind, smart, talented, beautiful and generous woman. That’s why people like you so much. But maybe it’s time to start thinking about something other than instant sexual gratification. Because even though you were young and foolish back then, you haven’t changed much. You still go on the hunt several times a week and you still shy away from any meaningful relationships. It’s time for you to realise your actions have consequences; adults have feelings too.”
20
