Chapter 21
The following afternoon, CJ was heading out to meet up with a couple of expat friends who lived in the hills above Pollensa Old Town. As he left the villa, he waved and called out, ‘You have fun, girls. Behave yourselves.’
When the waiting taxi had borne him away, Lois said, ‘That man’s a piece of work.’
Mimi shrugged. ‘I did warn you.’
‘Anyhow, now he’s out of the way, I can have a swim.’
They were lying on the yellow padded sunloungers beside the pool. They might be into October now, but the temperature was still up in the high twenties, perfect for sunbathing. Even Mimi, with her naturally pale skin, had managed to build up a light golden tan. She watched as Lois peeled off her top and jeans to reveal the pink bikini underneath, then sat down at the edge of the pool and removed her prosthetic leg. Leaving it on the side, she eased herself down into the clear water and did a dolphin dive beneath the surface before setting out for the far end of the pool.
The taxi, racing back in through the entrance gates, screeched to a halt at the top of the driveway before Mimi was able to put down her mug of tea and scramble off her sunlounger. She called out, ‘CJ’s back,’ but Lois, still swimming underwater, was unable to hear a thing.
To reach the front door, CJ had to make his way past the pool. ‘Can you believe it?’ he said. ‘Left my damn phone upstairs.’
The next moment, like a seal, Lois popped her head out of the water at the other end of the pool. Spotting CJ, she let out a spluttery yelp of dismay and ducked back beneath the surface.
Which entertained CJ enough to cause him to stand and wait until the need to breathe brought her back up again.
‘What’s the problem?’ He grinned at her.
‘I don’t want you looking at me.’
‘See this beach?’ He indicated the endless stretch of sand beyond the perimeter wall. ‘I’m used to seeing girls in bikinis.’
‘But they aren’t covered in scars,’ said Lois, ‘and they probably have the usual number of legs.’
‘Is this why you only swim when I’m not around? Because you don’t want me to see your leg?’
‘Not just you. Anyone. I don’t love looking like this,’ Lois said defensively. ‘It doesn’t feel great.’
‘Have you ever watched the Paralympics? The athletes competing in the swimming competitions? They aren’t bothered by the way their arms and legs look. They don’t care, they just get out there and go for it.’
‘I know they do, and good for them, but I don’t feel that way about my leg and I’m allowed to be self-conscious and not want people staring at it.’
‘Which is why you always keep it covered up.’ CJ nodded.
‘Don’t lecture me. You can’t have any idea what it’s like.’
‘How about your husband? Has he kissed your leg and told you it’s beautiful?’
‘Of course he hasn’t.’ Lois visibly recoiled. ‘Because it isn’t beautiful, it’s a mess.’
‘In your opinion,’ said CJ.
He collected his phone from the villa and left for the second time. Lois had the rest of her swim in peace. Then she climbed out of the pool and rejoined Mimi. With her prosthetic leg fitted back into place once more and her Ray-Bans covering her eyes, she lay back on her sunlounger and said, ‘He wants us to have a baby.’
‘What?’ Mimi yelped, stunned. ‘CJ?’
‘Oh my God, no! I’m talking about Felix.’
Mimi burst out laughing. ‘When you said it, I was just thinking about CJ, but your option makes more sense.’
‘Can you imagine having a baby with CJ?’ Lois pulled a face and reached for her iced water.
‘Never mind that. Can you imagine having one with Felix?’
Lois heaved a sigh. ‘I could. But I don’t want a sticking-plaster baby. We shouldn’t have one just to try and keep our marriage together.’ She paused. ‘You know that thing CJ said about Felix kissing my stump and telling me it was beautiful? Do you think any man would ever really do that?’
Mimi looked at her; it was the question she’d been thinking about too.
‘I don’t know. Maybe.’ What could she say? Felix evidently hadn’t done it, so would it be cruel to say yes? ‘Everyone’s different . . . some people find it easier to deal with things like that. But honestly, it’s not as awful as you think it is.’ How she longed to be able to lessen the turmoil in Lois’s head. ‘It’s just a healed-over scar, maybe bigger than we’re used to seeing, but not scary. After a while, you don’t notice it or think about the way it looks any more. It’s just a part of you.’
‘I can’t bear people looking at it. I don’t even like seeing it myself. It’s bearable at the hospital because the nurses are used to all sorts.’ Lois gestured between Mimi and herself. ‘And I can cope now because it’s just the two of us and I feel safe with you. But no one else gets to see it.’
‘Except Felix.’
Lois swallowed, shook her head. ‘I wear a long nightie in bed. It stays covered.’
Mimi spoke tentatively. ‘But what about . . .?’
‘The lights stay off. He’s never touched that part of my leg.’ She didn’t even like to say the word stump, Mimi realised. ‘It’s the thing we don’t talk about.’
‘But you should,’ Mimi said gently. She felt for Lois.
‘I just can’t. Men can be squeamish. I don’t want to hear Felix say he finds it grotesque to look at. And if he lied and said he didn’t . . . well, then I’d know he was lying and that’d be even worse.’
‘But he still loves you. You’re married. He wants a baby with you.’
‘Or he feels sorry for me, or he feels guilty because his father was the one driving the car.’ Lois paused and sighed. ‘Or he feels stuck with me and thinks a baby might help to take his mind off how trapped he is.’
It was the fourth day of Lois’s stay. Mimi wanted nothing more than to ask her about Cal, but the subject hadn’t arisen and she’d forced herself not to be the one to oh-so-casually mention him first.
Oh, but she’d been longing to know what was going on in his life.
And now it looked as if she could be about to find out. Her mobile was playing its jaunty tune and the caller name flashing up on the screen was Cal. They’d exchanged numbers years ago, shortly after the accident, but he’d never phoned or texted her before, so she hadn’t messaged him either.
Until today.
Her heart racing at three times the speed of the ringtone, Mimi pressed answer and said, ‘Hello?’ as if she’d been too busy to glance at the screen.
‘Mimi? Hi, it’s Cal. Is this a good time to call, or are you rushed off your feet?’
Oh, the sound of his voice, the beautiful timbre of it. She had to hold the phone away from her mouth in case she accidentally sighed with delight.
‘Hi! Sorry, I was in the middle of something . . . No, it’s fine.’
‘Are you sure? Because I can call back later.’
‘No, no, just dealing with a psychopath who’s carved up a Russian double agent and fed his liver to the family cat.’
‘As you do.’ He was smiling now, she could tell. Mimi wondered where he was calling from; it was hard to picture someone at the other end of the phone when you didn’t know if they were lazing in front of the TV or striding across the fields with their dog or reclining naked in a hot bath.
OK, he probably wasn’t naked in the bath. But it was a nice idea.
Aloud, she said lightly, ‘All in an afternoon’s work. Mind you, deciphering CJ’s handwriting keeps me on my toes. I thought he’d cut up a fiver and was frying the pieces in a pun whilst skating round the kitchen in a piddle of blood.’
And hearing Cal’s laughter took her back to the hot bath scenario, listening hopefully for background sounds of splashing water.
‘It’s a tough job but someone has to do it.’ The tone of his voice softened. ‘How are things really? All going OK?’
‘Not too bad. Puerto Pollensa’s fabulous, the weather’s brilliant and CJ’s bark is worse than his bite.’ Wriggling onto her favourite high stool in the kitchen, Mimi heard herself say brightly, ‘Speaking of barks, how’s Otto?’
Oh God, so lame.
‘Otto’s great.’
‘And Cora?’
‘Better than great.’ The warmth and love for his daughter was plain to hear in Cal’s voice.
‘Of course she is.’ Glimpsing her reflection in the screen of her laptop, Mimi realised she was grinning like an idiot; just as well they weren’t on Skype. ‘And how are things going with you?’ She’d managed to get the tone right, thank goodness: friendly and interested, but not too interested. Not in an I-dream-of-you-every-night kind of way.
Well, it wasn’t every night.
‘All going pretty well, thanks.’ Cal sounded cheerful. ‘In fact something interesting happened yesterday. I’ve accepted my first painting commission.’
‘What? That’s amazing!’ Mimi was genuinely delighted for him. ‘I thought you said you weren’t ready. What changed your mind?’
‘Well, I suppose it felt like fate. A friend posted photos of a few of my paintings on Instagram and they were seen by some footballer’s wife. The next thing I know, she was calling me up, asking me to do a portrait of her and her family. I said I wasn’t ready to do that and she couldn’t believe I was turning her down – she took it like a personal insult. Before I knew what was happening, she was pretty much telling me to name my price.’
‘Wow.’
‘I know, right? Talk about surreal. So I drove over to Windsor yesterday to meet up with her and the kids. Showed her some of my other work, half expecting her to back out. But she didn’t. And we fixed up a couple of dates.’
‘Oh wow,’ Mimi said again, a bit squeakily.
Cal sounded amused. ‘Ha, not that kind of date. Appointments to get the preliminary sketches done.’
‘Well that’s great.’ OK, get a grip. ‘Who’s she married to?’
‘His name’s Darren May. He plays for—’
‘Yes, I’ve heard of him. Gosh, this could be your big break.’
‘Or my biggest humiliation if it all goes horribly wrong.’ Cal’s tone was rueful. ‘We’ll just have to see how it turns out. Anyway, so that’s my news, but the main reason I’m calling is about Lois.’
‘Ah, OK.’ Of course there had to be another reason; he hadn’t rung her number at long last because the urge to hear her voice again had become simply too overwhelming to resist.
‘Felix asked me to speak to you. He wants to know what’s happening with Lois, and when she’s coming home.’
‘Does that mean he’s missing her?’
‘Oh come on,’ said Cal. ‘Of course he’s missing her.’
Ten minutes later, after wishing him luck with the commissioned portrait and discovering via Google that Darren May’s wife Lara was very pretty indeed, Mimi ended the call. She sat back and tipped her head from side to side, aware that the nape of her neck was still prickling and damp with perspiration as a result of just speaking to Cal on the phone.
The door to the kitchen opened and CJ stood in the doorway with a crooked grin on his face and an empty whisky tumbler in his hand.
‘Who was that?’
‘None of your business. And isn’t it a bit early to be hitting the Scotch?’
‘It’s last night’s tumbler. I’d always wondered if holding a glass against a door actually did help you to eavesdrop on conversations.’ CJ was blithely unrepentant. ‘And guess what? It does. Come on, tell me who you were talking to.’
‘Just a friend.’
‘A friend you sound pretty keen on.’
Oh God, had she sounded keen? Mimi felt herself redden. ‘He called to ask about Lois.’
‘Is he interested in you, though?’ CJ thought for a second. ‘I suppose not, otherwise I’d have heard about him. Or he’d have been over here to visit you.’
This was mortifying, but all she could do was brazen it out. ‘And if I was that keen on him, I wouldn’t have moved out here to work for you, would I?’
‘Touché.’ CJ’s wink told her he’d been teasing all along, which hopefully meant she hadn’t made a fool of herself by sounding like a besotted fangirl on the phone to Cal.
She gave him her Cruella look and said coolly, ‘I think that’s quite enough eavesdropping, don’t you? Time you got back to work.’
‘Whatever you say, boss.’ Still chuckling to himself, CJ turned to leave. Just before the kitchen door swung shut, Mimi heard him whisper in a high voice meant to mimic hers: ‘Hi! Wow! Oh wow!’
Bastard. Reaching for her laptop, she brought up more images of Darren May, his stunning wife Lara and their two wildly photogenic young children.
Cal wasn’t hers; he never had been hers. Mimi knew that only too well, but a tiny flame of jealousy still flickered inside her ribcage. She was only human, after all.
On the reassuring side, at least Lara and Darren’s bond appeared to be a famously secure one. And when you were married to a multimillionaire Premiership footballer, you were unlikely to risk everything for a fling with a just-starting-out unfamous portrait artist.
At least, let’s hope so.