Hearing my gasp of shock, Gabi hastily backtracks. ‘Well, not ages ago, about an hour ago at most, not even that really… I offered to drive him back there with the bags, but he insisted he was fine to get a taxi.’
A tense silence invades the phone line between us.
‘He left his phone here,’ I say in a small voice.
Gabi does all she can to make reassuring noises, telling me it isn’t really that long since Harry left, more like half an hour, or even twenty minutes, but my hands are already starting to shake a little as I hang up the phone.
Liza, Marion and I sit in anxious silence, probably all thinking the same thing – there is absolutely nothing we can do to try and locate one, solitary, phoneless man in the middle of a huge city. The excited conversation of just a few minutes ago has evaporated into the ether, all thoughts of prisoners and handicrafts gone from my mind.
I don’t know how long we stay there, Roberto fussing around with the washing up, Marion sitting next to me, awkwardly squeezing my hand, and Liza pacing up and down muttering what I think are Hail Marys in Spanish. I’m just about to stand up and insist we call the police when the doorbell buzzes.
We all leap to our feet, then, in unspoken agreement, Liza and I hurry down the steps to the iron door.
Harry stands beaming in the doorway, one backpack slung over each shoulder and his hands weighed down with bursting carrier bags emblazoned with a red ‘Tu Supermercado’ logo.
‘Where the f… heck have you been?!’ I shout, remembering Liza’s presence next to me just in time.
‘I’m so sorry, babe, were you worried? I stopped off to get some shopping near Casa Hamaca, then it took me ages to flag down a taxi outside the supermarket…’
‘Oh, what a good husband!’ Liza enthuses, patting Harry on the elbow and reaching up to cheek-kiss him in greeting. ‘Going out to get provisions for your first day in a new home. Isn’t that lovely!’ She beams up at both of us, and I feel my irrational anger and fear reluctantly dissipating. In fact, I feel a bit silly. Of course he was doing something innocuous like stopping off for some shopping – what had I thought? That something had happened to him? No… if I’m really honest with myself, my concerns had been less about Harry’s wellbeing and more about what on earth he was getting up to. Ever since overhearing that strange phone call to the ‘Fernandez family’, I realise I’ve been watching his every move with a degree of suspicion. Then he disappears without warning for ages…
Feeling a bit sheepish, I accept Harry’s kiss and silently trail after him up the stairs with the shopping bags, saying goodbye to Liza. What must she and the others think of me? I wonder in mortification. Then I remind myself that they were just as worried and panicked as I was. Except they were innocently fretting about Harry’s safety as a newly arrived tourist in a huge foreign city. Not suspecting him of some heinous crime or illicit activity. What’s happening to me? Less than a week in South America, one strange phone call and one news report about drugs criminals, and I’m seeing crime and corruption everywhere. Even when my boyfriend goes out to buy some groceries.
Inside the apartment I go over and slump on the sofa, staring huffily out of the window, unable to verbalise my confusing feelings of guilt and lingering suspicion.
Harry stands at the breakfast bar unpacking the shopping.
‘Babe, I’m so sorry if I worried you,’ he begins, flicking nervous glances at me in between unloading cartons of milk, coffee, bread and eggs from the bags. ‘I didn’t realise I’d been gone so long… Ray started chatting to me when I picked up our stuff.’
I watch him fussing with the plastic bags but say nothing.
‘Then I thought it would be nice to stop and get some food for us, you know, to make it feel like home, so we can have a proper breakfast in the morning…’ He looks at me imploringly, holding up a bag of coffee granules as if to demonstrate his intentions.
‘Who were you on the phone to outside Casa Hamaca when we first arrived?’ The words are out of my mouth before I even realise what I’m doing. I watch Harry’s brows come together in confusion. Or guilt?
‘I… what? When do you mean?’
‘The day we arrived. I fell asleep for ages. Then I woke up and you were outside in the street, shouting down the phone to someone.’ My heart is pounding energetically in my chest and I can’t quite bring myself to look at Harry while I say any of this. Hasn’t he just demonstrated that I should trust him? He disappears for a bit longer than expected and I get all suspicious, when really he was just picking up some shopping… likewise, there has to be a perfectly normal explanation for the phone call. Something like…
‘Oh, that!’ Harry laughs, plonking the packet of coffee down on the worktop with a loud thud and reaching up to run his hands through his hair. ‘You heard? Oh, God. Okay. I wasn’t going to tell you, but…’ The hair-rubbing intensifies. ‘So, er, look, I know how much you want to go to other places. The Galápagos Islands, then down to Peru, and that place in Venezuela with the waterfall, what was it called?’
‘Canaima National Park. Angel Falls. Harry, you’re rambling.’ I don’t know where I get my steely conviction from, but I hold firm and meet his eyes, demanding an explanation with mine.
‘Right. Angel Falls. Yes. Anyway, so, I wanted to arrange something as a surprise for you – starting off with a trip to the Galápagos, you know, one of those island-hopping cruises we read about. All-inclusive. A week visiting the main islands, snorkelling off the boat, breakfast up on deck…’
I cross my arms and stare at him. We had read about the ‘island-hopping cruises’ in Harry’s old guidebook, yes. And I’d commented that they looked very commercialised and expensive, when a lot of the travel blogs I’d found state that you can see the Galápagos just as easily and much more cheaply by booking your own accommodation in advance and catching one of the frequent motorboats between islands, travelling at your own pace, eating where you want… but Harry doesn’t seem to remember any of that.
‘It was perfect, babe, I had it all planned out…’
‘But?’
‘But… well.’ Harry sits down on one of the breakfast-bar stools with an elaborate sigh. ‘I’d already made a reservation online, they just needed me to phone and pay – so when you were asleep I called the travel agency to finalise the booking. Then they told me there were no more spaces on the cruise for over a month. When they had specifically promised me two spots for the following weekend.’ Harry ruffles his hand through his hair again and makes his best crestfallen face. ‘So I guess I lost my temper with them a bit. I had really wanted to surprise you.’
I leave the sofa and walk over to Harry, resting my hands on the other side of the breakfast bar, wanting to see his reaction right up close to help me decide whether to believe it or not.
‘So… you were on the phone to a travel agent?’
‘Yeah. Silly, really. Getting so worked up over something like that. They were just one of those little family-run companies, I should’ve known better.’ He looks up at me, his blue eyes wide, his hand reaching across the breakfast bar to find mine. I take his hand distractedly, my mind whirring. When I’d dialled the number it had been midnight, so even if they were a small, family-run travel agency by day, they’re hardly going to answer the phone in the middle of the night saying ‘Hello, Galápagos Tours, how may I help you book your dream holiday?’ It’s quite reasonable they would answer as the Fernandez family, or whoever they are, getting an unexpected call at that time of night.
I want to ask more questions. But I can hardly tell Harry that when we were out at the bar I stole his phone and locked myself in the ladies’ toilet to go through his call log.
‘Babe, please don’t look at me like that,’ Harry implores, squeezing my hand tighter. ‘I know it’s disappointing, but we will go, I promise. We’ve only just got here. This is just the beginning of the adventure. Let me do a few weeks at the school, and we can use that time to find the best deal and book it all up properly, then take a long weekend and really indulge ourselves. Just imagine – swimming with sea lions and giant tortoises, then a cocktail reception on the beach afterwards…’
That’s not really what I had in mind, I want to say, but instead I find myself smiling back and nodding. We can finalise the details later. He’s right – our adventure is only just beginning, and it seems ridiculous to fall out or make a fuss over one phone call now, when we have months of freedom stretching out before us.
‘And you should have seen the supermarket just now, Kirst. It sounds silly but honestly it was really cool, all the exotic fruit and veg they have. I’d never seen it before! Like this…’ He gets up and rummages in one of the bags, pulling out a pineapple that is literally twice the size of any pineapple I’ve ever seen before, bigger than Harry’s head. ‘Look at the size of it! And this…’ More rummaging, then he produces a bizarre pink object covered in green points, shaped like a rugby ball and almost as big. ‘This is a pitahaya. It’s a type of kiwi, apparently, but they’re bright pink. Isn’t it funny? It looks like something from another planet…’
He trails off and looks at me pleadingly. ‘Kirst, babe, please don’t be angry with me. I only wanted it to be a surprise for you.’
Something about the sight of my boyfriend standing with the giant pineapple in one hand and the weird alien-fruit in the other, a beseeching look on his face, makes me gradually start to smile and let go of the strange pangs of suspicion and disappointment that have been running through me.
‘Oh, Harry… put the pineapple down, for goodness’ sake,’ I sigh, and walk around the breakfast bar to go and hug him.
He squeezes me back gratefully, and I feel the soft little pointy bits of the pitahaya digging into my back, the fruit still in his hands.
‘No more secrets or surprises, though, okay?’ I mutter into his T-shirt. ‘Let’s plan everything together.’
Enjoying the warm feeling of Harry’s arms, I promise myself to believe his explanation about the phone call. After all, what on earth else could it be? Harry doesn’t even know anyone in Ecuador. It had to be something like a travel agent.
Deep down, I don’t think Harry would ever lie to me outright. But then, a week ago, I never would have expected him to change our plans at the last minute and take a job at a language school, however temporary, when we are supposed to be travelling. And a month before that, I never would have thought he’d suddenly suggest going travelling in the first place. A question creeps uncomfortably into my mind, one I realise I don’t know the answer to. How well do I really know Harry these days?
I suppose, if I really wanted to be sure about the phone call, I could always call the number again at a more reasonable hour, just to check…
‘Hey, I’ve got an idea,’ Harry says softly in my ear. ‘How about we unpack this stuff later?’ He is stroking the soft skin behind my ear, his other hand sliding down my back to rest on my bottom.
He wouldn’t ever need to know I’d phoned them… It would be a one-off, just to be sure. Then I’ll be able to forget about it once and for all.
I hear a soft thud as the pink fruit falls to the floor and I raise my lips to meet Harry’s in a kiss.
***
Later that evening, curled up beside Harry in our new bed, I reflect on the day. This afternoon has passed in a flash. We eventually unpacked the shopping properly, changed into our pyjamas and opened the door to Liza bearing a tray of steaming yucca cakes and mugs of hot chocolate. Harry spent ages doing something or other on his laptop, while I sipped my hot chocolate and watched out of the huge window as the sun set, as beautiful and sudden as the sunrise. Just a brief purplish change in the sky, then utter darkness. By night the view from the window was completely different – the detail of the roof terraces and tumbling houses obliterated by darkness, transformed into an expanse of lights trailing down away from us to the bottom of the valley.
A tremor of fear and excitement runs through me at the thought of going to the prison with Marion in just two days. I can hardly believe I asked to go with her. Just a month ago, the thought of visiting a prison in the UK would have scared the life out of me. And a prison in the UK must surely be like Disney Village compared to one in Ecuador.
It has been dark for over an hour now; Harry is already snoring softly beside me, the altitude apparently no problem today. I know I should sleep, too, but my head is too crammed full of thoughts. A travel agent. After all the agonising and questioning I’ve been doing over the last few days, his strange, angry telephone call turned out to be something perfectly innocent like a disagreement with a travel agent. A travel agent Harry was calling in order to take me on a romantic, overpriced and not very appealing novelty cruise of the Galápagos Islands.
If that’s true, I should feel thoroughly ashamed of myself for ever doubting him, I think uneasily, watching Harry’s peacefully sleeping form next to me.
Wait… what?
What do I mean, if that’s true? I’d promised myself I was going to believe him, hadn’t I?
And yet… almost without realising what I’m doing, I find my eyes drawn to Harry’s phone, lying between us on top of the duvet just next to his hand. If I do this, I tell myself firmly, it will be the last time EVER. I do not want to turn into one of those girlfriends. Just one more call, in which I will find out for sure that they are a travel agent, feel thoroughly silly and guilty, then put the whole thing behind me and concentrate on enjoying Ecuador. Yes, that’s the right thing to do, I decide. Then I have absolutely no excuse to carry on feeling all weird and suspicious with Harry.
I carefully slide the phone towards me across the duvet, at the same time slowly swinging my legs round to touch the floor, so all I have to do is slide out from under the covers and leave the room quietly for a few seconds. He won’t even know I’m gone.
Wait – but what if he wakes up and his phone is no longer beside him? It’s too risky. Cursing, I quickly navigate through Harry’s phone to the list of dialled numbers. To my surprise there have been no other phone calls, either incoming or outgoing, since that one. Already feeling a bit ridiculous and guilty, I grab my own phone from the bedside table, tap the number into it, then slip quietly out of the room – but not before carefully positioning Harry’s phone back where it was.
As the phone starts to ring, I leave all the lights off and go over to the big living-room window, admiring the twinkling expanse of city spread out before me.
You could be out there enjoying that, a voice niggles in my head, but instead you’re here going through your boyfriend’s phone like a nutcase.
‘Hello?’ A child’s voice interrupts my uneasy thoughts. ‘Buenas noches?’
‘Oh! Er…’ Crap! I hadn’t even planned what to say. I quickly reorganise my brain into Spanish and say as politely as possible, ‘Buenas noches, sorry for calling a bit late, but I would like to enquire about your package tours to the Galápagos Islands, please.’
There’s a brief silence in which some cynical part of me half expects to be told I’ve got the wrong number and they’re not a travel agent. But then the young voice responds, ‘Okay, let me get my mum, she handles all that.’
Before I have a chance to reply there’s a muffled shout of ‘MAMÁ! Someone on the phone about booking a tour!’
At the very same time I notice the bedroom light flick on and hear Harry call out my name.
‘Kirst, you out there?’
Oh no! Without thinking I press the hang-up button and hastily shove my phone into my dressing gown pocket, just as Harry appears in the doorway.
‘What are you doing standing there in the dark?’
He’s leaning on the doorframe and rubbing his eyes, silhouetted against the light from inside the bedroom.
Feeling truly guilty now, I turn and open one of the cupboards in the little kitchenette, getting out a mug.
‘I just came in here for a drink,’ I say, not meeting his eyes. ‘And the view was so pretty…’ I gesture vaguely towards the expanse of sparkling city lights on display through the window. ‘It seemed a shame to turn the light on.’
‘Ah, right.’ Harry nods and stifles a yawn. ‘Well, come back to bed, won’t you? I’m knackered tonight, think I’ll get an early one.’
I watch him turn away, back towards the bedroom. Then something makes me step forward and actually turn the light on, then reach out and grab his hand to stop him.
‘Harry, why don’t we go out?’
He turns to look at me with a perplexed expression. ‘Out?’
‘Yes, you know – out. Out there.’ I indicate the window. ‘Out somewhere in Quito. A bar or a restaurant or—’
‘We’ve already had dinner.’
I swallow back a surge of frustration. ‘Yes, okay, I know that, but we could still go somewhere different. I don’t know… find some live music, have a drink, see where the night takes us? We could even look for that traditional place I read about, in the old town, that does those cheesy corn things – what were they called? I can’t remember, but you know that traditional snack I told you about… from the guidebook…’ I can hear the mild desperation in my own voice as I trail off.
‘Babe, I’m knackered today,’ Harry says apologetically, lifting my hand to kiss it. ‘Plus, it’s a Wednesday. I doubt anywhere’s open.’ He drops my hand and turns back to the bedroom door. ‘But let’s definitely do something on Friday, okay? I’ll take you out for dinner.’ Then he winks at me and disappears from view.
I stare at the empty bedroom doorway and hear the slight creak of the bed as Harry gets back into it, realising I should be feeling pleased. Haven’t I just proved Harry was telling the truth – the number he called was a travel agency, or at least they were people who organise trips to the Galápagos Islands. There’s nothing suspicious going on, and the only reason he’d gone outside to make the call was that he wanted it to be a surprise. I should be feeling relieved.
So why aren’t I?
Aside from the stabs of guilt about checking Harry’s phone, why do I still have a creeping sense of unease, a feeling that something isn’t quite right?