“Lawrie. Marcus. I don’t know, it feels different than it used to, like there’s an edge to them being here.”
I saw goosebumps on her arm. It wasn’t cool, even with the air con. “Marcus’s always been a pain, but Lawrie’s just – Lawrie. What’s changed?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know. It feels like he’s watching too much – not me, nothing pervy, just hyper aware of who’s around. We’ve never known much about what he does…”
“We’ve never needed to.”
“No. I know.” She paused, fluffing her hair. “I don’t know if I want them around anymore.”
I laughed, feeling nervous, as if I was walking along a steep edge. “You make it sound like we need to have them assassinated.”
She didn’t laugh back, or reply. “I’ll grab a shower. Then I think I’m going to drink champagne until I can’t remember Marcus’ name.”
Simione’s was busy,as it always was, yet we’d still managed to score a table. Monty and Hunter were already there, both looking sun kissed and beautiful, their tans and shirts shouting subtle wealth and easy grace.
They were like something from a magazine, catching the eye of most women and some men as they walked past the table where they’d been sat, overlooking the beach and the incoming tide. Lala linked my arm as we walked to them, the light breeze fluttering our skirts and hair.
We looked a match for them. I’d caught a glance of us in the tall mirror propped in the entrance hall to reflect the light as we left. We’d dressed similarly by accident; hair down and wavy, long peasant skirts and cropped tops with beads and thin gold necklaces we’d both picked up from the Hippie Market over the years.
We could’ve been twins. A few months difference wasn’t obvious and never would be now. She was more tanned than me, her eyes blue where mine were sea-green, and her jaw was more like our dad’s. Lala’s life force was sharper than mine. She drew people’s attention like she was Lady Godiva, only fully clothed, where I had learned the art of blending into the background.
Monty stood and pulled back my chair, his hand grazing my back as I sat down. He’d given me a few hints he was interested, which was kind of flattering, only I wasn’t sure what I wanted. I should’ve been interested. I should’ve been keen to have a hook-up that would’ve been satisfying and hot, with a man who was the media’s version of beautiful, but there was no spark there to light the fuse that had become so fucking fussy.
Lala was my opposite. Sex was a pastime, a way to spend a few hours enjoying her body and someone else’s.
It had nothing to do with what happened in the dorm with the boy, and everything to do with not being Lala.
And I didn’t want that intimacy.
“You look amazing.” Monty kept his words quiet, which didn’t matter as Lala was engrossed in Hunter’s attention as he fawned over her.
We looked like a couple on a double date, the sapphire sea behind us and the white of the terrace walls and floor.
Champagne was ordered, of course, then tapas; little dishes of local goodness that we could nibble at between drinks, letting the evening swirl around us in a tango.
“Excuse me.” I stood up after my third champagne, the heat from a day on the boat and the alcohol making my vision swim. I needed air, not the static air from the terrace, but cooler air from the sea.
Monty’s eyes followed me, grazing my skin while I headed to the stone steps that led down to the beach. I heard Lala laughing, the sound carrying through the air. He wouldn’t count the seconds until I was back; he’d be enchanted by my sister and she’d fill his time with her stories and smiles.
As soon as my feet hit the sand, I slipped off my shoes, the gritty coolness regulating my breath that’d become too rapid. I walked towards the incoming tide, the sand becoming damp and hard. When I reached the point where the salt-water lapped onto my feet I stopped, that small sink into the sand almost stilling my heart.
A dark sky peppered with stars blended into the sea, neither knowing where one ended and the other began. Horizons were lost at this time of night. I looked to the sky and tried to count the stars I could see, losing count before I hit fifteen.
“I didn’t take you for an astronomer.”
I jerked my head to where the voice came from.
“Sorry?”
There was a laugh. “I didn’t take you for an astronomer.”
I did that giggle when you were embarrassed and didn’t know what to say. “I needed some air.” It was a stupid remark – we all needed air all the time and it meant nothing, except you needed to get away.
Why couldn’t we just say that?
“Why are you down here? I feel like you could be stalking me.” Or the other way round.
“I needed some air too.” Tommy pushed his hands into his jeans pockets and looked up at the sky. “I used to wish I knew the names of the constellations.”
