Vinny whined and scrabbled at the window.
‘I’ll take the dog out,’ Johnny put in hastily. ‘He could probably do with a last-minute walk. I’ll take my key, Callie, so don’t worry about not locking up.’
They stood in a frozen silence watching each other. Johnny disappeared into the hall and returned carrying his jacket and Vinny’s lead.
As he passed Callie on the way to the garden, she hissed, ‘Coward.’
‘Too right,’ he whispered back. ‘Plenty of wine left if you want some, Frida,’ he added, more loudly. Easing himself out of the French doors, he called out, ‘Night.’
Callie collapsed on the sofa. Picking up her glass she drank the contents and then refilled it. ‘Grab a glass if you want some. As Johnny said, there’s some left if you fancy it.’
Frida crossed her arms and looked down at her mother. ‘Think it’s more about whatyoufancy, Mother.’ She flounced into the kitchen, hunted through the cupboards, located a tumbler and emptied the remains of the wine into it.
Perching on the arm of the sofa, she looked daggers. ‘So, what gives, Mum? Just what have you been up to?’
Callie wasn’t having this. ‘Could ask you the same thing, Frida. Why have you cut your holiday short and why have you been so uncommunicative?’
Frida slid down off the arm and swallowed some wine. ‘Reasons.’
Anger began to lick at Callie. She loved her daughter unconditionally but sometimes the girl infuriated her. ‘I’ll tell you all about my holiday if you spill the goss on yours.’
Frida rolled her eyes and sniggered. ‘Spill the goss? How old are you, Mum?’
‘Not too old to take you across my knee, young lady.’
This time Frida snorted. ‘Try it and I’ll have you up on a child abuse charge.’
Callie slammed her glass down on the coffee table so hard wine spilled. The swerve from sexy lover back to concerned mother was disorientating. She let rip at Frida. ‘This isn’t like you. This isn’t the Frida I know talking. It’s Leah’s influence, isn’t it? You know I never liked her.’
Frida stared into her glass in mutinous silence. Eventually she blew out a breath. ‘You might have a point there,’ she finally admitted. Huffing moodily, she added, ‘Don’t think she’s the friend I thought she was.’
Callie’s irritation fled. ‘What did she do?’
‘Met some bloke on the first night and abandoned me. I hung out with Alice and Elodie – their parents own the villa.’ Frida shrugged. ‘They were okay but I don’t know them that well. It wasn’t like having a mate there. Once Leah met this Rico bloke I didn’t see her for dust.’ Her bottom lip quivered and, all of a sudden, she looked far younger than her years. ‘And it wasn’t what I hoped it would be, Mum. Don’t think I’m cut out for nonstop nightlife and drinking.’ Her eyes widened. ‘And the drugs! People were off their heads on stuff.’
Callie sat up in alarm. ‘You didn’t–’
‘Come on, Mum, what do you take me for?’ Frida stretched out a long, suntanned leg. ‘Got to keep this temple of a bod pure,’ she said, with more than a little complacency.
Her mother let a laugh escape, the last vestiges of her anger dissipating. She never could keep up with Frida’s mercurial change of moods and could never stay angry at her for long. ‘You’re a lovely colour. Wish I tanned like you.’ Lifting up a strand of her daughter’s lustrous jet-black hair, she said, ‘Wish I had hair like this too instead of my frizzy mop. But,’ she added, sternly, ‘if I thought you’d even gonenearany drugs, you’d be disinherited, my child.’
Frida shifted away, seemingly uncomfortable. ‘Can promise you, the drugs weren’t an issue for me. I’m not that daft. Didn’t even drink much. Couldn’t afford it.’
‘Did you get charged for changing your flight?’
Frida took another sip of wine, deliberating her answer. ‘Nah,’ she said evasively. ‘It was sorted. I’d…’ she paused. ‘I’d stopped having a good time so decided to cut and run. See whatthe good old UK could offer for a holiday.’ She brightened. ‘Gotta say, from the little I’ve seen of Lullbury Bay, it looks ace.’
Callie accepted the deflection in subject matter. Her daughter was obviously not ready to tell her the real reason behind the sudden decision to leave Ibiza. ‘It’s lovely. You can have a good look round tomorrow. You can walk over with me to the Art School. I’m in charge of judging the children’s art competition.’
‘Oh, Mum, thought you were on holiday?’
‘It won’t take long and I volunteered as part of my competition entry. Once they found out I’m an art teacher, I got jumped upon.’
‘You’re too soft.’
‘Tell me about it,’ Callie answered, with asperity. ‘When are you going to pay me back for the taxi?’
Frida raised one black, perfectly groomed brow. ‘I’ll pay you back if you tell me all about this little seduction scene.’
