The Island Villa_The perfect feel good summer read Page 18

  ‘Tell me, what is it?’

  Cesca looked down, bit her lip. ‘Benito, don’t…’

  He touched her face. ‘Why?

  ‘Because it’s wrong. We shouldn’t, you know that. I am promised to someone else.’

  ‘An old man? It was never your decision. How can this be wrong? What we feel?’

  She leant her head on his shoulder for a second, breathing in his clean, soapy scent. It would be so easy to slip back into those arms.

  Too easy.

  But she’d made a promise to someone else. How could she think of breaking that now – what would people say? What would he say?

  She broke away. ‘I think it will be better for us both if we stay away from each other. This can’t happen, we can never be. I’m sorry.’

  He stared at her, shook his head. His eyes were stricken. She couldn’t look at the pain she was causing.

  ‘Don’t say that. What’s it all for if we can’t be together?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

  ‘Living when you should have died? Finding this island where people like us can live free? What’s it for if we can’t even choose each other?’

  ‘Sometimes you aren’t free to choose – sometimes you just have to do what is right.’

  ‘And this is right? You promised to someone else? How is that right?’

  ‘It’s not,’ she said, tears welling in her eyes. The way she felt about Benito was the best thing that had ever happened to her. It was also the worst because the cost was everything she held dear – her love of medicine, her life, her reputation. He was asking too much.

  ‘Exactly,’ he said, kissing her.

  She pulled away. ‘You don’t understand. We can’t do this – I can’t do this to him. Not after everything he has done for my family. It would be too cruel.’

  Benito blinked. ‘More cruel than having him stand between us?’

  She shook her head. ‘It’s you standing in the way, between him and me.’

  He looked as if he’d been kicked. ‘Is that how you feel? Truly? You love him, is that it?’

  She blinked, ‘Of course I do, in my own way.’

  ‘That’s not what I mean.’

  He kissed her again, and she shook her head, pushed him back and hurried away. This time he didn’t follow. Didn’t notice either that someone had seen them. Someone who felt a piece of himself break as he watched.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Formentera, present day

  ‘Argh, I’m so jealous,’ said Sage, when I told her all that Allan and I had been doing that week. ‘I cannot wait for my turn.’

  ‘Me too, love,’ I said, with a pang. I was concerned about how tired she was, and how hard she was working.

  ‘One more month, then I’ll get a break.’

  ‘One more month,’ I repeated. ‘I can’t wait for you to meet Maria – and to hear what she’s been telling me about our family. There’s this one woman – Cesca – she was one of the island’s first trained nurses – she learned everything from a local doctor. Maybe it runs in the family.’

  ‘You’re kidding? When was that?’

  ‘The early eighteenth century, I believe. She was pretty amazing – helped to deliver babies, helped to keep alive a Jewish prisoner the family had helped escape. They fell in love.’

  ‘Wow. That’s amazing, Mum, what happened to them?’

  ‘I’m not sure – we haven’t got that far yet. Maybe you can hear about it when you get here.’

  ‘Yeah – I’d like that.’

  ‘Me too,’ I said as I rolled a ripe orange beneath my feet. I was standing in the garden. Emmanuel was hard at work on the roof while Allan chatted to him, holding the ladder.

  Isla was sitting at the table, an abandoned sketchbook in her hands, eyes closed while she soaked up the sun, and Big Jim was in his customary spot by the orange tree, his big Texan hat shading his eyes.

  Allan had fitted in as easily as I had. He and Isla had been spending some time together, going for walks and trips to the beach, but, aside from catching a few longing looks between the two of them, I wasn’t sure if they had taken anything further. Perhaps, as they’d both been burned in the past, they weren’t willing to risk it again.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Formentera, 1718

  Esperanza tied up the books Don Santiago had left for her with a pang, leaving them outside the door to his house where one of the servants would find them in the morning. She’d written him a note, politely thanking him for his gifts but stating that unfortunately she couldn’t accept them in good conscience as she was promised to someone else.

  She just hoped he would let it go.

  The rumours of the escaped prisoner were weighing heavily on Esperanza’s mind and, combined with her worries for her mother, and what would happen to her once Cesca was married, meant that she couldn’t sleep. She slipped out of the finca and went to the cove with Flea, where she could breathe beneath the stars.

  Don Santiago found her there, bathed in the moonlight, skimming rocks off the water the way her brother Antoni had shown her when she was a little girl, a habit that Cesca had said only served to make her seem wilder still.

  When she heard his footfall, she started. Her face coloured in the dark when she saw who it was. He was always there, whenever she turned. It made her feel guilty, and ashamed when she thought of what had happened between them the other night.

  She sat up, making to leave.

  ‘Please – don’t rush off, just talk to me,’ he pleaded, taking a seat next to her.

  She bit her lip, undecided, but when he picked up a flat rock and skimmed it over the surface of the water, she sat back down.

  ‘I was thinking,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘That I owe you an apology.’

  ‘Don San—’she started, but he shook his head.

  ‘No look, I took advantage of you the other day. I shouldn’t have kissed you like that – you were clearly upset. Why was that? Tell me about it, maybe I can help?’

  ‘It’s my mother,’ she said, then took a deep breath and told him about what had happened. As she tried to make sense of a future without her mother in it, she began, to her horror, to sob. He gathered her in his arms and held her. Esperanza knew she should have just walked away, that she shouldn’t let him comfort her, knew that it was selfish when she had to tell him once again that they could never be.

  When she was made weak by crying, she got up and let him walk her home. She pulled away when he tried to kiss her again, but he only looked at her tenderly, squeezing her hand as he took his leave. He shook his head. ‘I could wonder if you’d put a spell on me.’

  She bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be.’

  Don Santiago was waiting for her on the old salt road a few days afterwards. She closed her eyes in mortification, shame flooding through her, when she saw him. She had to end this thing that had blossomed between them – she had to be strong, not let the fact that she found comfort in his presence get in the way of doing what she knew she had to do.

  She bit her lip, then turned to go the opposite way, but of course he ran towards her.

  ‘Wait, Esperanza, please.’

  She blinked. ‘D-Don Santiago, I can’t be here, you must understand… the other day, well…’

  He touched her arm. ‘It was my fault – I shouldn’t have followed after you… kissed you the other day.’

  She closed her eyes again in shame. ‘Please – just forget it ever happened.’

  His hazel eyes widened. ‘Forget? I cannot, you’re all I think about. I have never known a woman like you before.’

  Her cheeks burned. She didn’t want to hear that. Right now that felt like the opposite of a compliment.

  ‘Don—’

  ‘Please just call me Santiago.’

  ‘Don Santiago,’ she said pointedly. Please, we cannot. I am not the sort of woman you might think I am… the other day was a mistake, that’
s all.’

  His hand gripped her arm. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I am not the kind of woman who kisses strange men, or meets them after midnight. I’m sorry – my whole world has turned on its head since my mother got sick, and I’m afraid that I haven’t been behaving as I should. I should never have kissed you, for a start.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’

  ‘I must! Now please, if you don’t mind…’

  He shook his blond head. ‘The only way I think of you is as a man who is falling for a beautiful woman. Please believe that – my intentions towards you are only honourable. I’ve never met anyone like you – you’re all I think of. I’d like to court you properly, and to make you my wife one day if you’ll have me.’

  She stared at him. Her mouth fell open. He couldn’t be serious. ‘Your wife?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She shook her head. ‘I can’t. Please don’t ask me. I am promised to someone else.’

  He blinked. ‘Your cousin – the one who was ill?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Perhaps there is a way we can get out of it, I could speak to your family, speak to your father or your mother. I’d make you a good husband. You – they – would never want for anything, I promise you that.’

  ‘My father is dead.’

  ‘Your mother then. I’ll speak with her.’

  ‘No, we can’t – please just understand,’ she said, then hurried away.

  ‘Wait,’ he called, but she ignored him, trying to put as much distance between them as she could. She was so ashamed of herself. Why had she let it get so out of hand? What was she going to do now? How was she going to get rid of Don Santiago, convince him that there was no hope for them? She closed her eyes. Cesca was going to be furious. For the first time, she felt that her sister had every right to be.

  Chapter Forty

  Formentera, present day

  ‘So Emmanuel?’ said Allan one morning while we were sitting outside, the cool breeze from the ocean riffling our hair.

  ‘What about him?’ I asked as I poured myself some more coffee from the cafetière, and paused from transcribing the start of my novel onto my laptop.

  He sighed. ‘Well, it’s just …’ He hesitated and watched Emmanuel working in the garden. ‘He’s nice, Twig.’

  I nodded. ‘Yeah, he’s a friend, Al, that’s it.’

  He shrugged. ‘Yeah, look, I didn’t mean to pry but I saw it, you know.’

  ‘Saw what?’

  ‘James’s ashes.’

  I bit my lip. I’d thought I’d been more careful with that.

  ‘I mean, I helped pick out the urn, Twig. You brought him with you?’

  I sighed. Closed my eyes. ‘Yeah.’

  Then I laughed. ‘I talk to him, sometimes.’

  ‘You talk to him?’

  ‘Not like in a crazy way.’

  He raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Okay, yeah, pretty crazy, but it was helping. I just felt like I couldn’t leave him behind, you know?’

  He nodded. ‘Yeah, I suppose so. Did he say what he wanted to be done with them? Anywhere specific he wanted you to scatter them?’

  I shook my head. ‘He just said I’d know when the time was right.’

  ‘And do you?’

  I shook my head. ‘No. Not yet anyway.’ Though over the past few weeks, I’d felt less need to take James along to every room I visited. I supposed that was progress.

  ‘So you and Em aren’t like secretly…’

  I gave him a look. ‘No. Unlike some people.’

  He had the courtesy to blush. ‘It’s nothing.’

  ‘Really? I love Isla but since you met, it’s like she’s living here. I mean, you’ve been here a week and you’ve only met Maria once… I’ve had to make your excuses while you run off with Isla.’

  He shrugged. ‘I know. The thing is, she’s kind of great. It’s pretty awful, actually.’

  I looked at him in surprise. ‘Awful, why?’

  ‘Because she lives here.’

  I sighed. ‘Yeah, well, we do have a house here now. And I know you work in London, but there are jobs here too – just an idea.’

  ‘Jobs? Here?’

  ‘Okay, well in Ibiza probably.’

  ‘As an investment banker?’

  ‘Possibly – maybe they do those offshore account things here.’

  He gave me a look. ‘You’re thinking of the Cayman Islands.’

  ‘Ah,’ I said with a laugh. ‘But still, look I hate to call this card but it’s true – the love of my life is gone, and I can tell you from where I’m standing that a little thing like the ocean isn’t that big of a problem. Not really.’

  Chapter Forty-One

  Formentera, 1718

  Cesca was miserable. Every time she sensed Benito’s gaze on her, she felt something in her twist in pain. It would be so easy to just give in to this thing between them, but what then? Would she have to turn her back on everything else?

  She made sure that nothing could happen by ensuring they were never alone, by keeping busy at her mother’s bedside.

  To make matters worse, Señor Garcia was behaving oddly. Finding excuses for her not to come on any of his visits to his patients, even when her mother slept.

  ‘Spend your time with your mother,’ he told her, not looking her in the eye. It was as if something had changed between them and it made her uncomfortable, particularly as the wedding was drawing nearer. Why was he behaving so strangely?

  It felt like everything had changed since her mother had got ill. Things with Benito were stilted and strange – gone was their easy camaraderie, their slow mornings together as they greeted the dawn while the rest of the household slept. She missed that more than she could say. It would be so easy – too easy – to just give in to what she was feeling, but at what cost?

  Esperanza puzzled at the change in her sister, the way she seemed to always be on edge. How she would snap at the slightest provocation.

  She figured that it had to do with their mother. She couldn’t face it herself. The idea of life without her left her reeling. She spent as much time as she could with her, and didn’t complain when Cesca asked her to do the chores. For the first time in her life she welcomed the distraction from what was happening inside her head.

  What she couldn’t understand was the change between Cesca and Benito, how short Cesca was being with him. She didn’t like it. He didn’t deserve it. He was kind and thoughtful, always helping out where he could. He hadn’t asked to come into their home – the least Cesca could do was be civil to the man, she thought.

  As the days passed it was Benito who got up early, fetched the water from the well and started on breakfast. She couldn’t imagine what they would have done without him during this time. His solid presence was a comfort and a balm, while she struggled to deal with the prospect of saying goodbye to her mother.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Benito asked one evening as he paused from playing the lute.

  Esperanza was sitting next to her mother by the orange tree, sketching.

  She shrugged, though her face coloured slightly.

  The evening was mild. Her mother had wanted to sit out by the stars, so they’d made a picnic in the garden, but nobody could bring themselves to eat.

  Señor Garcia had warned them that there wouldn’t be long now, which had made Esperanza so sad she’d walked from one end of the island to the other all through the night. She didn’t know how she was going to face life without her. Didn’t want to contemplate it.

  To take her mind off things she had taken out her sketchbook and started to draw Benito as he played one of her mother’s favourite songs. Sketching Benito had become something of a habit, one she was finding difficult to break.

  There were tracks of tears coursing down Cesca’s cheeks, and she was holding their mother’s hand to her chest.

  ‘Antoni has sent word that he is coming home soon,’ she said. ‘I hope he makes it in time.’

>   Which was when Esperanza started to cry too.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Formentera, present day

  When the taxi came to take Allan to the ferry, I was reluctant to let him go. The house had been so much fuller for having him in it, and I’d enjoyed, as a spectator, watching his and Isla’s budding romance. It felt too soon for him to leave now, to return to his life in London.

  ‘Do you have to go back?’ I asked for perhaps the third time that morning.

  He sighed as he zipped up his bag, and gave me a look. ‘Twig, you’re going to be fine without me. I mean, God, you’ve made more friends in the past few weeks than you have in a lifetime. You’re part of a band!’ He laughed and I joined in. ‘You’re going to be okay.’

  I sighed, then repeated his words. ‘I’m going to be okay.’

  ‘Besides, Sage will be coming soon – just three more weeks.’

  I nodded. That was true.

  ‘But what about you and Isla?’

  ‘Well, we’re going to keep in touch, we’re going to take it super slow. I’ll be back in a couple of weeks for a longer break – if you’ll have me – and we’ll see from there.’

  I grinned. ‘Course I’ll have you.’

  After he left, I had a shower and then made my way to Maria’s house, cycling through the dry scrubland, past pine trees and the glittering ocean. Emmanuel’s work on Marisal was coming to an end, and I was running out of tasks for him to do, so soon it would just be me and the house again. And then what? A return home to Surrey? As I cycled I considered my options. Right now, this felt right. I was doing what James had asked; I’d started writing again and had made new friends, discovered a family I never knew existed and was starting to live again. Going back to Surrey would be a step in the wrong direction. And perhaps without Emmanuel or Allan around I would be forced to stand more securely on my own two feet. But I’d learned that, despite what I’d initially thought, I wasn’t ever truly alone, not any more.