“I’m training to be an architect. I’ve two more years left to study.” Two more years in New York, then it would be time to carve out my own career.
Tommy didn’t nod, or say anything, just looked at me in a way that made me question – something.
“I’m looking forward to starting my career. Something different than what anyone in my family’s done before.”
He lifted his chin, and his gaze went behind me. I knew Lala was there without turning round, even though Tommy’s eyes returned to me.
“I’ve brought you another mojito.” She sat down next to me, a tray of drinks landing in front of us. “And your coffee.”
There was water there too, and I went for that first. Livi always taught us to drink plenty during the day. For every coffee, or cola, or cocktail, at least one glass of water. There wasn’t much she’d ever told us to actually do, other than this.
And practice safe sex.
One piece of advice suitable for thirteen-year-old girls; perhaps the second should’ve been tempered some.
“What sort of architecture will you be focusing on?” Tommy’s attention was back on me.
Lara’s was on her phone. Probably Carl, or Carl-related in some way, it usually was when she was here. She’d spent more time in Ibiza than me, recently at least, and I did sometimes think that she regressed back to being a teenager when she was here. The Lala in Es Cubells was different from the woman in Paris or London.
“Houses. But big ones – bespoke. I thought about specialising in social housing, looking at how that can be improved, but I always loved exploring big homes when I was a kid, and now still. I want to design houses that’ll be here in centuries to come.” I’d done well with my studies, gaining a first-class degree from Manchester. My internship had been hard sought, the initial interview earned due to my connections – I couldn’t lie and said I’d hidden my identity or anything. If my name and who my mother was got me through a door, I’d use it. No point in being polite.
But it was only through the door – then the expectations were higher because of who I was. I could easily be dismissed as talentless if someone thought I was only there because of my family. I had more to prove than most.
“I’ve never thought much about houses.” Tommy inspected our cocktails as if he was going to review them with Rico later. “I just need somewhere to sleep and shower.”
“Where are you living on the island?”
“Here. The apartment above the bar most nights, and an apartment a couple of miles away when I can get there.” He glanced up. “Means I can keep an eye on shit when it goes down if I’m here.”
“You won’t get much trouble here. Santa Gertrudis is fairly chilled. It’s Sant Antoni and Ibiza Town where the fights break out. The people who go there don’t tend to come inland.” Ibiza had changed over the years, like anywhere. The madness that had set in when it became known as a party island had become tempered with tales of the other side it had to offer. The ruggedness and peaceful beaches, the exclusivity of resorts, the clientele. Prices went up, other cheaper places became more attractive to students seeking a holiday full of sex and partying. “The Sunset Strip has cleaned up a bit though.”
I felt like I was rambling.
“I’ve lived here a few years now. I’ve seen things change in that time.” He stretched, clicking his back and I saw muscles tense under his T-shirt.
“I thought this place had just opened.”
“It has.” His smile was teasing, but he didn’t give me anymore. “Enjoy your cocktails. Let me know if they’re not up to standard.”
There was no chance to ask any more questions. Tommy had gone, leaving me more than a little flustered.
“Livi’s askedthe Dewalts to stay with us for the party weekend. Lottie’s just messaged me.” Lala looked up from her phone, that to be fair, she’d barely touched since lunch time. We’d gone through a list of people ourselves that we figured she’d be asking, working out the logistics of where to suggest people stayed. The circles we moved in were not wide: there were several, but all overlapped, and everyone knew everyone else. Affairs and scandal were well hidden, but they were there. No one tried to deny it, it was just buried beneath propriety and manners.
I sat back and sipped the fruity cocktail that had just the right amount of kick to it. “Lottie Dewalt will end up staying here for a month. And she’ll bring staff.” Charlotte Alice Hannah Dewalt had been in our year at school. She wanted to be Lala, with the modelling contracts and the design career, but she’d never quite got there. She made up for it by being a pain in the arse, hanging round too much, wanting to be seen withtheright peopleintheright places, with her photograph appearing inthe right columns.“Did Livi check with you first?”
“I think she’s invited Madeleine and Grant Chambers-Whitty, and they mentioned it to Lottie.” Lala put her phone back in her bag, one of her own designs.
I groaned and took another sip of my drink. “Who’s she actually inviting? The titled or the famous?” Livi’s life had intertwined the two. She’d grown up with the children and grandchildren, nieces and nephews of viscounts, lords and dukes before landing in the circles of celebrity and her acquaintances broadened to those who wanted fame rather than being born into a type of it.
“A mixture of both. No idea why.” Lara toyed with her straw. “She generally has the sense to keep them separate, but I think she wants to open it up to everyone. She’s really in to spreading the good vibes at the moment.”
“She mentioned going with Lawrie to Abu Dhabi.”
Lara thought for a moment, taking a sip of water, Livi’s rule being adhered to. “She’s never been bothered about travelling with him before.”
“Nothing recently?”
Lara shook her head. “No. It’s always been her staying here while he travels, and she’s always seemed to like the break.” She was thoughtful for a moment. “Do you think she suspects something?”
