Not by Livi. Not by Dad. They stayed clean.
Most of the time.
But our house was a retreat from the maddening whirlwind of press and nightclubs and rehab for their friends and acquaintances and it was impossible to shield us from that darker side of life. After all, we’d always have it walking parallel with us, at least.
“Why now?” Lara linked her arm through mine as we were escorted out of the airport by a concierge with our luggage. “Why take the time now?”
“Because I can.” I shrugged. It was already a warm day, warmer than I’d dressed for. Cropped jeans and an old T-shirt with a cardigan I’d borrowed from someone and never returned. “I don’t start the master’s programme until October and I don’t need to be there much before.”
“Livi thought you’d go travelling again. Or extend your placement.” She opened the door to the driver’s side.
“Can I drive?”
Lara Star Kearney rolled her eyes so far back they almost got stuck. “Fine. Just try to have us there by sundown. Why didn’t you extend your placement?”
“I needed a break. New York will be intense and cold – I need to warm up before I go.” I’d spent time in New York before, and I knew being there over winter was going to be like nothing I’d had before, even in Sweden. There were different kinds of cold.
And different kinds of heat.
Lara shrugged. “It’s about time you enjoyed yourself. This summer’s going to be epic.”
The car she’d brought was a convertible, the top already down. Only English people drove convertible cars in hot places, the locals having the sense to opt for shade and a lower risk of skin cancer or third-degree burns, but no one ever credited Lara Star Kearney with sense for that. She was the golden girl who always fell on her feet no matter how high the drop.
I laughed, starting the engine, my luggage somehow tucked in the tiny boot and secured in the back seat. “Epic. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that word.”
“One of Dad’s.” Lara tied her hair up. “He’s meant to be coming over in a couple of weeks. Daisy and Alfie are coming to stay for their holidays.”
“Oh Lord.” I smiled. Our parents had split years ago, when I was four and Lara five. Gav had moved on pretty quickly with an ex-singer who’d swapped music for a career in presenting, and they had a couple of kids. We became one big, strange family when we were on Ibiza. If you were staying at Villa Safir, you were family. No judgement – none out loud anyway. “You cannot corrupt Daisy. She’s too young.”
“For fuck’s sake, Jamie, what were we doing at that age?” Lara’s hands flared around her head.
I still thought she should’ve been an actress.
“Partying till dawn and sleeping on the beach.”
“Exactly. Did it hurt us?”
I shrugged. “Not often.”
I saw her still out of the corner of my eye. We didn’t talk about some things that had happened.
They were better left as flotsam in the sea.
“Daisy’s already streets ahead of where we were at her age.” Lara moved on.
I focused on the road, the feel of the air rushing past as I drove to Es Cubells, the journey barely twenty minutes, heading inland before turning towards the coast. Green trees and blue skies, the fine dust from the roads coughed up into the air by the car, all had a familiarity that was a different sort of messy perfection.
Home.
This island was home. The closest I’d had to it for the last few years where I’d been a traveller. A journeyman.
“I saw her videos. I heard Dad ranting about them.” Daisy had become a bit of a social media star. She wanted to model, but she wasn’t quite right for any current trends, so instead she’d focused on being the wild child and the photographs had been taken by the paparazzi rather than the high-end photographers she’d longed for. “Be careful where you take her.”
Lara laughed. “Jamie, this is Ibiza. The paparazzi don’t exist here. Seriously, can’t you drive any faster?”
I accelerated slightly, just to shut her up, noticing a couple of new villas on the main road, and a new restaurant.
Es Cubells was in the south of the island, past Porroig. It was around half an hour to Sant Antoni in one direction, and half an hour to Ibiza Town in another, meaning travelling to the clubs and bars at the height of the season had never been a problem, if that was what we’d wanted.
