There’s silence around the pool as Miguel says this.Is this really it? The end? Was that the last time I’ll ever see Ben?
‘Well, maybe we should all have one last dip in the pool? Together? Something to sign off this holiday?’ Zara says, obviously not wanting to end this vacation on a low note.
Miguel takes off his top and shrugs his shoulders at me.
‘Not naked this time, Miguel!’ Zara says.
‘You’ve seen Miguel naked?’ Bella screams at her mum.
And I laugh. It feels good to remember to know how to do that when everything else weighs so heavily. I stand up and kick off my sandals, Miguel gives me a round of applause, Jessfollows suit, throwing her sunglasses in a nearby bush. This was my travel outfit. I’ll have wet clothes, I’ll have to repack but I don’t think I care about being sensible in this moment. I run towards the pool and curl my legs into my chest and bomb it in. I haven’t done that since I was child. I sink to the bottom, exhilarated by the cool water, letting it embrace me until I ever so slowly float back to the surface.
38
BEN
‘You left? You’re all gone?’
‘Of course we left! You make a girl cry! Where are you? I had to give them toast on their last day. Seriously? I had to tell them your car was flat. Where have you been? You no answer phone?’ Miguel says hurriedly.
‘So they’re at the airport?’ I ask, panicked.
‘I drop them or they miss the flights.’ I can hear Miguel clap his hands together, swearing in Spanish under his breath, all bad words. ‘I am going to tell your sisters…what do you mean you sleep with a dog? What has become of you?’
I’ve not done well. I really haven’t. I blame Fabien’s absinthe. I keep having flashbacks to things I may have said in drunken confusion: moments come back to me in out-of-body experiences. I remember urging Chloe to go back to London, not to stay with me despite everything I felt for her. I remember her crying, the flash of the sky and then me falling to my knees on the lawn and, well, vomiting on said lawn. All I heard was French; the sun came for me like UFO light. After that, I stumbled towards the house and the world went dark. I woke upintensely confused in a dog’s bed, my head throbbing, my mouth dry and rancid, a dog looking at me quite miffed. By the time I realised where I was and reached for my phone, I discovered it was already lunchtime and I had numerous missed calls and messages, mostly from Miguel, with a diverse lexicon of swear words and emojis.
I wander around the villa now and it’s painfully empty.They really have gone. I didn’t even get to say goodbye to them.That’s awful. It’s a marked difference from what I’ve tried to offer for the last week and it feels terrible to hear this place echoing with emptiness. There are some used glasses and mugs on the table, and I reach for them in zombie mode, taking them into the kitchen, placing them in the sink. I go to the fridge and take out a large bottle of water, downing at least half of it. On the counter is a letter addressed to me and I open it.
You are a diamond, Benjamin. My sincerest thanks always that you let me experience the magic of your dear uncle’s villa. I have a feeling he would be so proud of you and the man that you are. I am beyond gutted we didn’t get to say goodbye but if you’re ever in London, look us up! I’ll be back!
Zara and Bella x
Attached to the note is a beautiful coloured-glass bowl that Zara obviously picked up during our market haul the other day. I wonder what Uncle Lorenzo would have thought about me today. I think he would be disappointed I didn’t drop my guests at the airport like a good host. Even when he was blind drunk, I never saw him be mean, even after the worst lectures from my mother. Joy and lightness soared through him. He would have handled his alcohol and that situation with Chloe so much better.
I go into the living room and gaze into the gardens and the empty pool one last time. My guilt and emotions start to crush me.What a terrible last impression to leave. I must have come across as petulant, rude after that last drunken outburst. What’s worse is that I put space there, looking like I didn’t want to see any of them.But Chloe. I won’t get to see her again. Ever?It’s certainly not how I wanted things to end with her, on such a sour note. I wanted to see her to say goodbye properly. I didn’t want to upset her. I didn’t want to make her cry.
I climb the stairs to the rooms and see Jess has stripped her bed. I owe her an apology too. She must think awfully of me. As I go into Chloe’s room, I close my eyes to get a tiny scent of her perfume, to look at the bed and think about what we did there.I ended it with her.I know that much. I shut that door. But she never would have stayed if I had asked, not with Zaha Hadid waiting. I picture her running to her dream job in London, like she deserves. I close the shutters and then sit on the edge of her mattress for a bit, thinking, trying to piece together last night. I wish I could have held her one last time, written her a note to hide in her luggage.Do I even have a photo with her?I notice Chloe’s yellow journal on her desk below the mirror. She must have forgotten it. That’s a shame. I guess I could post it back to her. Or maybe she didn’t even want it. On the top is a postcard of an Ibizan beach. I turn it over.
It was the holiday of my dreams but maybe it’s best we do draw that line in the sand. I will always think of you with love. Thank you. For everything. C x
I open the journal. As soon as I do, overwhelming emotion forces me into a chair in the corner of the room. I flick throughthe pages slowly. Every single one filled with patterns, drawings and sketches of this place. Pictures of trees and landscapes, leaves and stones, skies and beaches. But the last one is a picture of some eyes.My eyes, the sketch of a hand. Pages filled with parts of me. Tears fill my eyes as I flick through pages and pages of these drawings and I remember what I said last night.I thought you felt the same way. I don’t…I can’t.That’s not what I meant at all.
Half an hour. I have half an hour until their flight to London leaves as I rush through the car park at the airport. I do not look good, I do not smell good, and I’m still wearing last night’s clothes but I need to see Chloe and tell her. I don’t know what I want to tell her, but I need to make amends at least, to thank her, to say something that’s not blind drunk and heartless. I get to the entrance and look up at the departure boards to check the gate number. I don’t even know which flight I’m looking for.Gatwick or Stansted?I think it’s Stansted. The airport is crowded and I shimmy past a group of stags in matching lifeguard costumes.Maybe they’re still this side of the gate? Maybe they haven’t gone through yet?
What will I say to her? I’ll just be honest. I was out of my mind. I am out of my mind because I love her. I should tell her that I love her too.
‘Benji?’
‘MIGUEL!’ I fling my arms around him, delighted to see him in this airport, surrounded by nameless faces. ‘You came back!’
‘You smell,’ he says, his head on my shoulder. ‘Yes, I am back. I thought you might need my help, you silly boy.’
‘I know I smell,’ I say, pushing him back to see his face. He does not look impressed by me. ‘I’m so sorry. I was rude to you. Ididn’t want to be. I was passed out in the other villa. Fabien gave me absinthe. It was like the devil’s juice. I…I’ve?—’
‘Fuck it all up.’
‘Yeah. I love you. I hope you know that.’
A couple walk past looking very happy for us. Miguel creases his eyes at me. ‘You are lucky I am so nice and I love you like a son. You like that girl, no?’
