It was now twilight. The tea lights glowed in their purple glasses, the roosting birds were silent against the sleepy murmur of the sea. Rafa drained his glass, Sylvia lit another cigarette. He felt anxious about Clementine—every time he thought about her the knot tightened in his chest.
“Do you have Clementine’s mobile number?” he asked.
“Yes.” Sylvia squirmed uncomfortably.
“Give it to me.”
With a groan she burrowed in her bag for her mobile and scrolled down for the number. She read it out and watched nervously as he punched it into his BlackBerry.
“Are you going to call her?”
“Why not? She can be busy up here.”
“I don’t think Joe will like it. He’s very possessive.”
“Then I will ask them both.”
“Why don’t you text?”
“You think that would be more appropriate?”
“Absolutely, otherwise you might get her into trouble.”
C, where are you? I was hoping you would come up with Sylvia for a drink. Are you really too busy? I want to tell you I’m sorry … Rafa
Clementine read the text. Her stomach flipped like a pancake. She read it again, blushing deeply. Her first thought was that Rafa wanted to see her. Her second was that Sylvia had deliberately failed to include her. She glanced at Joe, sitting in the armchair watching sport on Sky, and knew that she couldn’t possibly get away right now. She wished Joe would disappear in a puff of smoke.
Can’t now. Can you come to the house that God forgot tomorrow evening, after work? C
Rafa’s BlackBerry bleeped with an incoming message. Sylvia reddened. “Is that Clemmie? Is she coming?”
He read her text and narrowed his eyes. The house that God forgot, would he remember how to get there?
“Well? What does she say?”
“She’s busy,” he replied.
Sylvia’s shoulders relaxed. “You see? I told you.”
“I’ll see her tomorrow. What time do you finish work?”
“Five thirty.”
“Okay.” He typed with his thumbs: I’ll come by your office and we can go together.
“Who are you texting?” Joe asked.
“Jake,” Clementine lied. “I’m going to go up to the hotel after work tomorrow. There’s something he wants to tell me.”
“Probably wants to persuade you to move back.”
“Maybe.” The only thing standing between her and going home was her pride. Joe turned his attention back to the television. She watched him as he sipped beer out of the can, feet up on a stool, eyes glued to the screen, and thought how very coarse he was. Just as she was wondering what on earth had possessed her to move in with him, her telephone bleeped with a text. She read it eagerly. So, Rafa would pick her up tomorrow and they’d drive out to the old church, their secret place. At once her spirits soared.
She remembered walking down the little path to the beach, the way he had disentangled her from the brambles, the moment they had stripped off to their underwear and ran into the sea. She remembered the way they had laughed, shared stories, and returned to the Polzanze like schoolchildren trying not to be caught breaking the rules. She smiled wistfully and hoped that tomorrow would be just as special.
Sylvia noticed Rafa’s glance at his watch. She could sense when a man wasn’t interested in her and wasn’t about to make a fool of herself. She looked at hers and gasped. “Good Lord, is that the time. I should go. Freddie will be wondering where I am.”
“Freddie?”
“My lover. He’ll be wanting dinner.”
“I should go, too.”
“Do you have a dinner date?”
“I’ll join my students.” He grinned. “That sounds odd as none of them is under seventy.”
She looked around. “This place is really rocking.”
“It’s a beautiful hotel.”
“Rumors indicate that it’s struggling.”
“It doesn’t look like it’s struggling to me.”
“No, you’re right. The air has changed—it feels happy. Makes me want to stay and soak it up.”
“You’ll have to come again.”
“I’ll drag Clemmie here next time.”
“You do that.”
She wondered why his face lit up. Clemmie was a peculiar creature, not a great beauty like her, and Rafa was clearly a man who could have any woman he wanted. “It’s been fun. Is it presumptuous to thank you for the drink?”
“Not at all, it’s my pleasure.” He escorted her to the hall, glancing at his ladies as they walked through the drawing room, pleased to see that they were still heavily absorbed in conversation. The brigadier’s loud guffaws shot into the air like gunfire, filling the room with mirth.