The Island Villa_The perfect feel good summer read Read online

  He snorted. ‘No, I think, um, that, ah, died when my, er, bits came in,’ he said, and she giggled. ‘But I’d come listen to you guys any time – you’re amazing, honestly.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, smiling. ‘I’d like that.’

  I sat watching the two of them as they talked, moving closer together, their heads bent over a low, flickering lantern, as soft reggae music filled the air.

  Big Jim elbowed me in the ribs, then raised his beer in their direction. ‘Looks like his week has got off to a pretty decent start.’

  I nodded. ‘Yep.’ I took a sip of my Pineapple Lady and grinned. I couldn’t remember the last time my brother had had a crush – he wasn’t the kind who had casual holiday flings. I sighed. I hoped I wouldn’t have to warn Isla not to hurt him.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Formentera, 1718

  The rumour about the missing brother who had been captured by a pirate vessel had reached Formentera. Officials were searching all the surrounding islands, and Riba’s husband brought the unwelcome news that it was likely they would start looking on Formentera soon.

  Further rumours of an artist’s sketch, and a note about the missing man’s bright blue eyes, caused Cesca to toss and turn in her sheets at night.

  Since Señor Garcia had confirmed her mother’s condition, she seemed to have deteriorated even further. She was weak and easily tired, and found walking difficult, but she was determined not to lie in bed, spending as long as she could sitting at the kitchen table, hand-sewing the lace for Cesca’s trousseau.

  Señor Garcia had suggested that it was time to begin preparations for the wedding, and Cesca had agreed, with a pang, her guilt over her kiss with Benito twisting her inside.

  They hadn’t spoken of it and she’d been avoiding him as much as she could, but he had to know that it couldn’t go any further than a kiss between them.

  She didn’t want to worry her mother about the pirate capture and the missing man, so she and Esperanza kept it from her, privately panicking at what would happen if people here started asking questions.

  At first they kept it from Benito too; he had only just recovered from his long illness and they didn’t want to cause him to regress – but it wasn’t long before news reached him too, when Riba came one afternoon all abuzz with the news that officials had begun searching Ibiza, and many thought they might start looking on this island as well.

  After she left, she saw that his face had gone ashen. ‘I’ll leave,’ he said, standing up, ‘now, before it’s too late.’ And he moved to get his coat. ‘I can’t have them looking here.’

  ‘No you won’t,’ said their mother. She stood up from her chair with difficulty, sweat blooming on her forehead, her green eyes fierce despite the pain she was in.

  Cesca and Esperanza looked at their mother in surprise. She was fierce, despite her frailty.

  Benito looked at her, his eyes full of sympathy. ‘I can’t let you do this for me any longer, don’t you see? I can’t tell you how grateful I am but I have put you in danger. We can’t go on like this, especially now. It’s just not fair.’

  She closed her eyes. ‘Fair?’ She gave a short laugh. ‘Nothing about our history has ever been fair, Benito. But you must think properly. You can’t leave – if you do then they will know what we have done, they will ask questions about the man who lived here, Rafael. They will wonder what happened to him. Perhaps they would uncover the real Rafael’s body buried at his parents’ home in Ibiza, and discover what we have done – if you leave you will just make it worse. This way no one will ask or question it.’

  They all stared at her in shock. She was right. They were stuck. Cesca looked at him. ‘We’re in it together now, for better or worse.’

  He nodded, sat down. ‘Yes.’

  He watched, knowing that his presence had caused nothing but danger. Cesca’s mother picked up the lace again for the wedding he was powerless to prevent, and felt even more wretched.

  Later that afternoon, oblivious to the tense atmosphere that had lingered since the morning, Esperanza sat peeling the same potato for a quarter of an hour while she talked non-stop about dinner at Riba’s house the night before. At this rate, they’d only have their dinner at midnight.

  ‘Pass the potatoes,’ Cesca said with a sigh, which Esperanza promptly did.

  Benito was outside, feeding the animals and talking to Señor Garcia. He’d been avoiding them ever since her mother had told him that he had no choice but to stay, risking all their lives.

  Cesca listened to her sister with half an ear as the other listened in to Benito and Señor Garcia’s conversation. Like the other islanders, the doctor had accepted the presence of their ‘cousin’ without much fuss, though she had seen that the doctor made a point now of coming every day, sometimes twice a day. At first she’d put this down to his care for her mother, but it had slowly become clear that he was always there whenever she and Benito were alone. It made her uncomfortable, and a little guilty, wondering if he sensed that something was changing between them, something Cesca felt powerless against.

  ‘He’s always here,’ complained Esperanza, echoing Cesca’s thoughts. ‘Señor Garcia, I mean.’

  Cesca nodded. She herself wasn’t too thrilled about it either, but how could she complain about it when she was going to be married to the man shortly? ‘When we are married, you’ll see even more of him, most likely, best to get used to it. I thought you liked Señor Garcia anyway?’

  She couldn’t move out with her mother being so ill, and with Esperanza unmarried. She hadn’t discussed it with Señor Garcia but perhaps it would be best if they lived here after they were wed.

  Esperanza blushed slightly. ‘I don’t mind him – I just… never mind.’ The real reason was that with Señor Garcia always being here, they were both always home now. She used to get a lot of time with Benito, just the two of them as they tended to the chores and looked after Grunon. She missed how they used to speak about books and Barcelona, art and music, but she knew it was silly to be jealous that she didn’t have him to herself. She’d hadn’t considered though that Senor Garcia would move in here after he and Cesca were married.

  ‘You think you will live here?’

  Cesca nodded. ‘It makes sense with Mare, we must be practical.’

  Tears flooded Esperanza’s eyes. ‘Don’t talk like that.’

  ‘’Spranza, I’m sorry, but I’ve explained to you that she’s not doing well. I’m not sure she will even make it to the wedding, even though we’re trying to make it happen as quickly as possible.’

  Esperanza’s chair shot out.

  ‘Mare will get better!’

  Cesca shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. She had explained this to Esperanza, but her sister wouldn’t accept it, even now.

  ‘There must be something you can do… you haven’t tried everything. Can’t you take her to the mainland, or Majorca?’

  Cesca touched her sister’s hand. ‘She wouldn’t make it – she’s too weak to travel, and even if she could, you know how she feels about that – she wouldn’t want to say anything that could point suspicion at our community.’ Such was the fear of their community, one that had been stressed enough times at their secret synagogue. They’d all heard stories of people who had died beneath a loved one’s pillow to ensure that they didn’t confess anything incriminating to a priest. Here there would be little danger of that, as Father Samuel was also the secret local rabbi. But still. ‘’Spranza, it’s too late. We must face it together, and be strong for one another. There is nothing to do. We can only spend our time with her and pray.’

  Esperanza shook her head, angry tears falling fast. She’d seen her sister and the doctor cure people all the time. Seen them do the impossible. How could Cesca, who spent her days healing people, give up on their own mother? She stared at her, trying to take it in, trying to understand, but she couldn’t. She could only turn on her heel and run sobbing from the finca. She didn’t turn even when she
heard Benito calling her name. Flea ran to be by her side, and together they fled towards their little cove.

  She stripped off her dress and left it in a tangle on the rocks, not caring if it got wet, as she dived into the cool, turquoise water and swam furiously. Flea dived in after her, but she soon outpaced him, swimming as hard and as fast as she could. Part of her wanted to swim all the way to Ibiza, and further, towards a world where her mother wasn’t dying and her heart wasn’t breaking in two.

  She stopped only when her foot started to cramp. She cried out in pain and from twenty metres back she heard a voice call out to her to wait.

  She was in too much pain to do anything more than that, except to register the shock that it was a male voice, one she recognised. Don Santiago.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

  ‘My foot,’ she cried, clutching it, her face twisted in pain.

  ‘Give it here,’ he said, taking her foot from out of her hands. ‘Hold on to me.’ His blond hair was slicked back and there were water droplets on his long eyelashes. She blinked. His face was handsome, his features even.

  He took her foot and flexed it back and forth while she cried out. ‘You must be careful. You’re a strong swimmer, but cramps are an easy way to drown,’ he admonished and she winced as his hands forced her foot out of the cramp, the tendons pulling tightly so that it felt as if she’d stepped on glass. It would be painful even to walk on.

  ‘Did you follow me?’ she asked.

  He stared at her for some time, until she realised how bold her question was. How presumptuous.

  ‘Yes,’ he answered.

  Then before she could stop him he was kissing her. His body was warm against her own, and his touch gentle. She felt a small furl of excitement at being so desired that someone would follow her miles out to sea. She felt reckless too. She blamed Cesca and Señor Garcia, even Benito – if Benito hadn’t been there then maybe they would have noticed how serious her mother’s illness really was sooner. She was angry with her sister most of all. She’d believed that Cesca could do anything… but she couldn’t keep alive the one person she loved the most. It hardly seemed fair.

  She sank into his kiss, though she knew she shouldn’t. She could hear her sister’s admonishments even now, and it was that perhaps that made her kiss him all the harder. She’d kissed a few of the boys in the village when she was younger, on a dare at the village festivals, but nothing this passionate before. As she closed her eyes she pictured Benito’s face, and kissed Don Santiago even harder, wrapping her arms tightly round his neck.

  They stopped only when they heard barking. Poor Flea was exhausted. He’d paddled after her but his tiny little body was now close to giving up. She broke away from Don Santiago and went to fetch her little dog, and in that moment she felt herself come to her senses, like a fog had lifted. She felt terrible, and showered the creature with love. She was utterly embarrassed, and when Don Santiago followed after her, an odd look on his face, she felt a twist of shame at what she’d done. What he must think of her.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, but he caught her. ‘Don’t be – that was wonderful.’

  She closed her eyes. ‘Please, just forget it.’

  ‘How can I?’

  She looked at him. ‘I am sorry,’ she said again, then picked up her dress and ran, Flea barking madly at her heels.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Formentera, present day

  I took Allan to meet Maria on his second day at Marisal. We walked to her house through the dry, scrubbed farmland, breathing in the scent of wild herbs and taking in the welcome sight of daisies and poppies, a wild carpet that had seemingly been laid out for us overnight.

  ‘I can understand how you came here for a week and stayed a month,’ he said as we stopped in at a bakery and exited with fresh croissants.

  ‘Yeah – though perhaps there are other charms to this island for you,’ I said, waggling my eyebrows at him. He laughed. ‘Yeah, a certain brown-haired singer who happens to live a thousand miles away from me, and is probably my polar opposite, you mean?’

  I shrugged. ‘Yup. It’s okay to have fun, you know?’

  ‘Yeah – I’ve never been good at that – at just keeping things light.’

  I nodded. We had that in common.

  Maria hugged Allan as soon as I introduced them, and I could see in his face how much she reminded him of our grandmother.

  The two hit it off immediately and we filled him in on the story that she had been telling me of our distant great-grandmother, Cesca, while I helped to peel the potatoes and she put him to work dicing vegetables.

  She stirred a pot filled with a rich tomato stew, and we listened companionably as she told us the story of the two women who had helped shape the family into what it was today – whose stories could so easily have been lost if it hadn’t been for James.

  Allan looked at me as he cut a cucumber into tiny chunks. ‘After all this time, Twig, to finally be here, this, it’s incredible, isn’t it?’

  I couldn’t help but agree as we were swept back on a cloud of steam, into the past.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Formentera, 1718

  The books had been left on the table. Every one that he’d mentioned to Esperanza. They were tied up in a ribbon, along with one long, wild Spanish rose.

  There was a card with his name written in fine script: Don Santiago Marquez de Sanchez. ‘Like you,’ was all it said.

  Esperanza felt her cheeks flush when she saw it. It was one of the real disadvantages of being a late riser.

  ‘It looks like you have an admirer,’ said Benito archly, with a grin.

  Cesca didn’t look impressed. She paused, tying up a bunch of herbs to dry, and nodded. ‘I was afraid of that,’ she said, her green eyes troubled.

  Esperanza looked at her. For one awful moment she thought that her sister was talking about the kiss between her and Don Santiago, but then she said, ‘I’ve been worried since that dinner. I wasn’t thinking. I should have just said that you were needed at home. Riba said that he seemed so taken with you…’ She shook her head. ‘Now he’ll be impossible to get rid of.’

  ‘It’s hardly Esperanza’s fault though,’ said Benito. ‘She couldn’t help it.’

  Cesca raised an eyebrow. ‘Riba said that it was hard to get a word in while they kept chattering on about their favourite books and artists.’

  Esperanza closed her eyes and sank into a chair. Usually she would have hotly denied it, but she knew her sister was right, that she had encouraged him. She felt a little ill at what she’d done, at the kiss she’d let happen. It wasn’t what she wanted – what she’d realised as she kissed him was how much she had wanted that kiss to be with Benito, how much she had begun to fall for him.

  Benito touched her shoulder. ‘Don’t worry about it. It’ll be okay.’

  She looked at him. Her fingers shook as she touched his hand. He was always so kind to her, so understanding. He would make a wonderful husband, she realised, then blushed.

  He gave her shoulder a squeeze, then got up to go and deal with the goat.

  She watched him leave, tuning out Cesca’s tirade.

  She didn’t need her sister’s admonishments to know that she hadn’t behaved the way she should have. But the more she sat there, listening to Benito as he whistled while tending to the goat, the more she began to think that the solution to her problem was right under their noses. She was amazed that she hadn’t thought of it until now.

  She turned to her sister and said, ‘It’s hard to imagine the finca without him now, don’t you think?’

  Cesca stared at her, then looked away, almost as if she were sad, and Esperanza frowned. She couldn’t see why that thought seemed to make her upset, unless it was because of the danger he presented?

  Esperanza touched the books. It would be wrong to accept the gift, she knew, but she ached to read them. It had been years since she’d had something new to read.

  Cesca left
soon after, saying something about checking on Marianna and the new baby.

  Esperanza sat at the table alone, thinking of Benito and how he’d stood up for her. It was rare in this house for someone to take her side. If she were honest, it was rare that she deserved it too. But still, he was a kind man. Handsome, and fair. For the first time in her life when she thought of marriage, she thought of how nice it would be to be with someone like him. She’d have to tell Don Santiago that what had happened between them was a mistake, that was all.

  Perhaps – who knows – after Cesca was married, Benito really could take Rafael’s place… it wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world… in fact, she wouldn’t mind it at all.

  Benito grabbed Cesca’s hand as she was about to leave the finca.

  ‘I’m going to make bread,’ she mumbled, trying to release herself from his grip.

  He looked at her, oddly. ‘With what?’

  She had nothing in her arms.

  She bit her lip. ‘I mean, I’m going to help the new mother, Marianna, to check on her and the baby.’

  She was referring to the woman who had almost lost her baby a few weeks before, but Benito knew Cesca had been to check on Marianna earlier that week. He couldn’t help feeling like she was using the visit as an excuse to get away from the finca, away from him.

  He touched her face. ‘Is something wrong?’

  She jumped at his touch, looking quickly towards the house in case anyone had seen, and moved away towards the street.

  ‘I have to go, excuse me,’ she said and hurried past, not meeting his eyes.

  He caught up with her on the long dirt road, grabbing her arm and staring at her with those eyes that always seemed to look inside her soul.