I returned to the coffee maker and finished off his coffee. I grabbed out a beer from the fridge and brought our drinks across. He frowned as I set my beer down on the glass table top, making a ring of frost appear.
“It’s alright, I’ll wipe it after, like.” I said making light.
“Go easy on those won’t you?” he said seriously.
“Yeah, yeah,” I replied vaguely and took a swig.
“Really though Vicky,” he pressed, leaning in, “We need to keep our wits about us.”
“Alright,” I said irritably, “I know.”
I told him how I had disposed of the items during the night and that I was mostly unnoticed. He told me about what had happened his end during the night. He had reported Ivan as missing to the hotel and then the police, and had stayed awake until the inevitable. Ivan had been discovered by a porter around six thirty. Within the hour the police had arrived, cordoned off the area, started the investigation and broke the news to Richard. I noticed Richard’s eyes drop down when he had said Ivan’s name. His eyes looked stinging, his face looked grey and exhausted. I told him about my abrupt wake up from my unlikely sleep. I outlined the whole conversation. He listened intently.
“You need to get some rest,” I added.
“I know, I will. We’ve both done alright,” he said, nodding, “We just need to keep our heads, okay?”
He looked at me with real concern and this time I chose a softer voice.
“Okay Richard, I will.”
I didn’t like being treated like the junior partner, the liability. It was strange to think that we barely even knew one another. But here we were, tied to one another by this secret, forever. He got up and we agreed to avoid very much contact over the next few days, as I was only meant to be an acquaintance and it might arouse suspicion. Some contact was alright in the circumstances, but just not too much. We’d try and get through the rest of the day independently and talk again the next morning. I went along with it all, but the thought terrified me. It felt as if he had asked me to keep to myself until I was collecting my pension.
What would I do with myself?
He said the police had a lot they needed him to do with them, particularly as they were foreign nationals. They would be back soon and they had also told him to try and get some rest. I said I’d be fine and wished him luck. I saw him out and closed the door, resisting a retch, striking immediately up from my stomach. I steadied myself and strode across to the fridge and picked out another beer.
Just a few beers to take the edge off.
How I craved a ‘proper’ smoke. I sat down at the table, skinning up an ordinary cigarette. Tobacco sprinkled flakes everywhere on the glass top, as I tried to make my hands stop shaking. I leaned back on the sofa, my head swimming. I listened to the faint sounds of other holiday makers enjoying themselves – children giggling, parents chatting on the way to the pool. That’s what holidays are meant to be like. I could hear the noise of trolleys being pushed by workers, going to clean rooms or deliver meals. I envied every one of them. Right then I wished I was any person that wasn’t me.
How had I fucked up so badly?
I was at the bottom of a sheer pit of my own digging from where I would never climb. Everything was fucked. How would I get to have a nice life now?
Where was my future?
What would my dad have thought?
I closed my eyes tight, ashamed. I felt glad he was dead and would ever know about any of this. Then I felt ashamed for thinking that too. I always hoped I would meet someone and settle down. Now that felt out of reach. I know it didn’t work out that way for my parents, but I still thought it might have been possible for me. I thought of my grandparents on my Mum’s side. Maybe I could have just have a little taste of what they had. Before her problems got really bad, I remember my Mum taking me on her knee sometimes before bed and instead of reading a story, she told me about my grandparents. My Grandad had been stationed in the Middle East during the war, my Nana working for The Red Cross back home. They were both very young and hadn’t been together very long before the war had started. One day a box of Turkish Delight arrived for her in the post – a rarity in itself. Buried inside one of the wrappers was an engagement ring. She of course wrote straight back to him and they became engaged just like that. On another occasion he sent home a little match box. Inside it was a little wooden heart. The letter told her that he had a matching one exactly the same and when the war was over, they would reunite them. And that’s precisely what they did.
No, I couldn’t hope for anything like that now.
22
I sat with a bottle of San Miguel perspiring in one hand and a mostly smoked rolly, nipping at my fingers in the other. I stared off into the middle distance from my vantage point on the terrace. A few families all in short sleeves and shorts passed by. The walkways down towards the various bins that I had dumped the stuff in, were coming to life. Small boats milled quite aimlessly around the harbour, and further along at the beach, some people were already in swimming. I hunched up my knees and started to cry. I wanted my Daddy. I set my beer down to release my hands to stem my streaming eyes. I cursed myself for the days I thought I had been at my lowest ebb. Those days
