Island Love Ch. 01

On his way from the golf range, Philip saw a big Land Rover trying to pull the buggy out of a drainage ditch. He'd not warmed to Ben, but Tim's sabotage seemed excessive.

Tibby arrived for lunch in her business suit and with a winning smile. They sat on stools at a bar and were served seafood salad with a piquant horseradish mayonnaise and drank Chablis. It was tasty and refined, but Tibby noticed at once that Philip wasn't eating much.

"Eat up Philip. I've been looking forward to this all morning. This is my favourite place to eat."

"You eat here often?"

She was stern. "I work hard. I don't have much time to sit down and relax and I'm far from home."

"By choice. Tell me, does your work take you to the Rodwell hotel?"

"Of course. It's part of the resort. Why do you ask?"

"Met a couple of generous old men staying there. Seems to be the height of luxury."

"They said so? Good. Way out of our league."

"You think I'd like it there?"

She laughed a little uneasily. "Dream on. Tonight I thought we could dance before eating. Work up an appetite."

"I'm climbing the mountain behind the resort this afternoon, so I'll get plenty of exercise."

"You must take care. Nobody goes there. There are wild dogs and the thorns are dreadful. I thought you might let me come back to your chalet tonight."

"That's a point. I don't know where you live."

"I only have a room. The chalet's much nicer."

So that was her plan. Philip didn't know what to think about sleeping with Tibby. He'd imagined the holiday as a brutal argument out of which certainty about the future would emerge. He'd forgotten his wife's ability to persuade through pleasure. Did he want her in his bed? Of course he did. Her body could provide comfort and gratification like no other. But his conscience was telling him not to sell his sexual favours too cheaply. By leaving him, she'd more or less said she didn't find him desirable. Let her beg. Make her recognise his determination to stay in control. But if he wanted her back, what better way to cement their bond than in bed?

"Relax. I'm not going to hurt you."

His uncertainty must have been plain. "No? Let's see how we feel this evening."

"Always the procrastinator."

His ambivalence about sex had clearly prised this catty remark from her.

"You've had months to work out what you want. I've had a day. And in any case, I'm not keen on sex with a woman who said she has no desire for me."

"I made a mistake and that was months ago. I explained that. But we don't have to have sex."

"Thanks for the clarification. Before you share my bed, you'll have to convince me you don't have an ulterior purpose."

"I can do that. I only suggested it because I want to be with you. I love you."

It would have been easy to go to the beach and fall asleep after wine with Blister and then Tibby, but Philip was determined to climb his mountain. He put on leather boots to protect against the thorns. In his pack was a compass and a bottle of water but no map; there wasn't one. At the beach bar he sat in the shade with a beer and waited for Tim. He looked out for the pretty girl, the femme fatale, but she wasn't there.

Tim was late and when he arrived he was restless and poor company. He told a story of how Ben had come to his chalet to accuse him of causing the accident to his buggy. The prank had been caught on CCTV and Tim was recognisable.

""Nothing to do with me," I told him. "Why would I do such a thing?" He kept saying I'd done it and had proof. I kept denying it and laughing at him until he went red and looked as if he was going to hit me. He was so angry he didn't notice me lift his phone from the jacket he'd put on the chair. I dropped it into the swimming pool a bit later when I went down to the beach."

"But why do it?"

Tim shrugged. "Why not? Revenge on all the bad guys."

Such anarchy was a surprise because Tim looked so peaceable. Philip thought it childish but couldn't help admiring Tim's courage. Suddenly Tim was talking about Nicole.

"Marriage is difficult. I guess you know that. Nicole's such an idiot. She loves me but she can't control herself. She was corrupted by her upbringing. Her parents were determined she was going to be a virtuoso pianist and I was never good enough for them. She's a mess but I love her. I can't just abandon her. I like to think that given time she'll grow up and find the strength to live her life properly."

Philip sipped his beer and said nothing. Do people change? He thought it unlikely and felt compelled to say something.

"If you love her then you must find a way to deal with it. With love everything's possible. It's too precious to throw away."

"It's easy to say that but I can't deal with her lack of respect for me. It's as if I don't count. And to have my wife think that is like a wound deep inside me sapping my strength. It's not that she loves Marcel. She loves me. But when they're together there's no room for anyone else. And of course I feel humiliated."

The strain and agony of his life was lined on Tim's face. Philip felt helpless and unworthy to deal with such a confession.

"You need to think about yourself and what you want."

Tim shook his head. "I can't just leave her."

Philip changed the conversation. "Why do you play tricks on Ben? How do you know he's a bad guy?"

"He sees Nicole's weakness. A young beautiful damaged woman is irresistible to him. He's vain and stupid so I'm doing my best to redress the balance."

They'd finished their drinks and decided to abandon the climb. Defeated by the discussion, neither had the energy or enthusiasm to face exercise in the fierce afternoon sun.

"Another day," said Philip, regretting his weakness.

They agreed to meet without fail at the same time the following day. Tim went to look for Nicole and Philip walked along the beach. The heat of the afternoon had lessened and the beach was crowded. He sat and watched people having fun and closed his eyes for a few minutes. Then he returned to the bar and at once saw the mysterious beauty from the day before, alone and reading a magazine. He searched for somewhere to sit under the palm leaves by the bar and saw that every table was occupied. Eager to take advantage of the situation, he approached the beauty's table.

"Do you mind if I take this seat?" he asked, pointing to a chair furthest from her at her table.

She shrugged, not at all interested in him. "No problem."

Piqued by her manner, he searched for a question to get her attention. "It's a beautiful resort. Is this your favourite place? I've seen you here before."

She gave him an impatient look as if used to tiresome men disturbing her peace. "It is a beautiful place. I usually relax here for a few minutes before starting work."

He smiled. Her face was unblemished by the sun and he wanted an excuse to stare at her. "What do you do here?"

"I don't think I'm allowed to say. We're all here to make sure our guests enjoy themselves."

"A corporate response. It must be something shameful. Let me guess. I can't imagine you toiling in the kitchens. Or making beds in the hotel. Are you a waitress?"

She looked down her nose at him as if this reply was unworthy.

"It must be fun working here, whatever you do," he added, thinking of Tibby. "Always on holiday."

"Out here, with no time and nowhere to go? You're owned by the boss. I only come because I have to."

"You have to come here?"

"I mean I come for the money."

They were silent and he watched her, gratified to have her company however unwilling she was. She turned back to her magazine and he gave up trying to hold her attention. He watched her in silence instead.

In a repeat of what happened the day before, the waitress arrived with a note. This time it wasn't for Philip. His beautiful companion took it from the tray, glanced at it and picked up her bag.

"Hey ho, off to work."

"Good bye Snow White. We must do this again."

She looked bothered by this. "I'm not Snow White. Why say such a stupid thing?"

And she was gone. Still reluctant to be alone, Philip wandered across the hot sand to the sea and cooled his feet. Then he went back to the chalet to rest and prepare for the evening. Another note was waiting for him. Tibby was working late and couldn't have dinner. She'd come to the chalet when she was free. He lay on the bed and fell asleep watching television. When he woke, he found tender patches on his face and neck from the sun. He needed to be more careful and smeared lotion on every inch of exposed flesh.

Tim and Nicole's chalet was empty. Philip returned to the beach bar and ate fried anchovies and squid, forlornly hoping for a visit from his beautiful mystery woman. He drank a little too much of the local white wine and stayed long after dark, reluctant to leave, watching the phosphorescence in the breaking waves and listening to the happy conversations of the people around him. He wondered if Tibby was already at the chalet waiting for him.

Tibby came late, long after most of the resort's holidaymakers were in bed. Philip was barely awake, watching television with another beer. He'd more or less given up on her and had to adjust quickly when she banged on the door. She looked tired but put her arms round him and held him tight.

"So good to feel you Philip. So happy you're here."

"Been working hard?"

"You bet. It's no idyll working in a place like this."

She'd been away so long, but her ways were not forgotten and he knew instantly that they would make love. Sex with Tibby would mean nothing. She kissed him in her particular way, then showered and wandered into the bed-sitting room in a towel. This was unusual.

"You've become a show-off," he said, surprised.

"Living in a warm climate teaches one to wear less," she replied easily. "Are you getting ready?"

"I am."

Yes, he wanted to make love, but when they were on the bed he couldn't resist a jab with the knife.

"You think I'll perform just like that that, after such a lay-off?"

"Silly. Of course I'll help you."

"And why would I want to make love to you? If I fancied fucking where there's no love, no desire, I'd be better off with a whore. At least she'd pretend some enthusiasm."

"Don't be nasty. I've told you I love you. And it's difficult for me too. Let's help one another and I assure you I won't lack enthusiasm."

She didn't lie and made love with uncharacteristic energy. She pulled Philip on top of her so that his weight crushed her into the mattress. They went through their usual motions but the sex was both familiar and novel. He'd been a long time without a woman. She was a little slimmer and more muscular and put more effort than he remembered into what she was doing. Let Tibby think his ardour was for her, but the truth was that having excited him, desire had taken over. His libido had been unshackled and she was the nameless object of his lust.

Afterwards, when Tibby was asleep, Philip lay on his back trying to make sense of what had happened. She'd put real effort into lovemaking and he wanted to understand why. Was it because she was rewarding him for something he'd done, or was she priming him for something she wanted him to do? And all the time there was the big question nagging away at him: what did he want to happen?

Tibby was gone very early and Philip rose soon after, energised by sex and a sense of new possibilities. Could it be that there was a chance for his marriage? Common sense told him that sex meant nothing, but it didn't feel that way. He planned breakfast in the fast food bar and then a walk along the beach to the headland. If he chanced on his beautiful maiden, that would be a bonus. He got no further than the girl with the pitcher before he was accosted by Blister, another early riser and showing his own signs of energy.

"Come to a wine tasting," said the old man. "I guarantee to show you something you'll enjoy."

"But I've not even had breakfast," Philip protested.

"Have breakfast with me. I have a driver booked for nine. We go over the mountain to a little bodega I know. It's a treat not to be missed."

"You've persuaded me. If you really mean it."

"Of course I do. Now let's eat."

Philip was pleased to have company and it seemed that Blister too had been deserted.

"Where's Zoltan this morning? Driving golf balls?"

"Zoltan's a late riser on holiday. Every day is a leisure day, know what I mean? Breakfast in bed. Read the newspaper in the sun. Siesta. I think this year the Castle Maidens are even more demanding than usual. And he needs to be fresh for tomorrow evening when it's the pageant, one of the highlights of our stay."

Maidens? Philip had a disturbing image of his particular siren lying beside Zoltan's bulk. It had already occurred to him than his lustrous beach maiden was too good to be true. He remembered the note calling her back to work. She'd be the perfect exotic companion on call to succour a wealthy guest in need of companionship and entertainment.

"I've heard nothing about a pageant."

"It's for the hotel guests. Acting out history with beautiful girls. They put on an exciting little play."

"This involves maidens?"

"If they can act."

Philip wasn't entirely sure what Blister was talking about. Blister took him round the side of the Rodwell Hotel and onto a secluded terrace surrounded by replica classical sculptures. Through the open windows he could see a bar with a coffee machine and a waiter dressed smartly in white shirt and black trousers.

"This is the only place I can take guests. The management are immensely jealous of the facilities indoors. No one but those who pay the full whack are allowed anywhere close. It's the same with the pageant."

They were served coffee and croissants, then eggs benedict and more coffee. Philip was enjoying himself until he choked on his coffee. The manager, Ben, had come into the bar with Nicole. He watched them through the window as they talked at the bar.

"What's the matter?" Blister had noticed the change in atmosphere.

"That's Tim's wife. What's she doing here?"

"Why not ask her? Looks like she's being interviewed for a job." Blister watched for a few minutes. "Tim's wife is beautiful. She shouldn't be talking to Ben. He makes bad things happen."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he has a special eye for the pretty girls. It's his own little scheme, the castles maidens, and he wants to make sure there's a plentiful supply. I guess he takes a lucrative rake-off to make up his pay."

Before Philip could follow this up, they were interrupted by a woman little older than Philip, smartly dressed and coiffured and showing a generous bronzed cleavage. She had a bright and cheerful smile and embraced Blister warmly before making to do the same with Philip. He avoided her embrace and shook hands formally.

"Don't be shy," said Blister, laughing. "This is Mimsy, my companion for the day. Don't pretend you're not impressed."

Mimsy sat down and accepted coffee, dignified under the curious gaze of both men. Philip looked carefully and saw that she was very good-looking under the heavy makeup.

"Do you enjoy it here?" he asked politely, searching for the right way to address a woman he understood to be a paid companion or escort.

She smiled and nodded. "I look forward to my holiday every year. It's a relaxing place and I meet such interesting people. We had a good time last year, didn't we Blister?"

"You bet! Mimsy's the cream of the cream. You're so beautiful my dear but believe me Philip I chose Mimsy for her brains not her looks. Ask her a question and you'll see she can talk about anything."

Philip and Mimsy laughed. Philip said, "Have you climbed the mountain? I meant to yesterday but I'd had too much wine and it was too hot."

"You must climb at dawn," she replied at once. "There are no maps, but you follow the ridge and it takes you all the way to a rough scramble over rocks to the summit."

"You've climbed it?"

She shook her head. "I know someone who loves the place. Climbing's a great way to keep fit when there's so much temptation to drink and sleep all afternoon."

"See what I mean?" Blister was pleased with himself. "Mimsy thinks I should exercise instead of enjoying myself. Good sense and she's a university of knowledge. Now if everyone's ready, we'll go find my driver."

"Are you sure three's not a crowd?" asked Philip.

The couple laughed.

"Flattery never goes amiss," said Blister. "Philip's worried we'll make him stand outside in the sun while we pleasure one another on the back seat of the limo."

"Manners!" said Mimsy. "Don't embarrass the boy. We'll do no such thing."

"But it might be fun."

They got into the car and drove inland. There was a lot of laughter, generous cuddles for Blister from Mimsy and close attention to his comfort. He loved her fussing over him and spoke to Mimsy as if they were young lovers. Philip's own spirits responded. It was lucky that he'd made love in the early morning - it freed him to appreciate Mimsy with detachment. He thought of his mystery girl on the beach. Was this how she went to work when the waitress delivered her note? And Tibby, another employee reliant on the note of hand as the way to do business: was she part of an unsettling undercurrent to the ways of this pleasure-dome?

They came to a neat vineyard where they were greeted by the staff and shown round the winemaking. Then they sat in the shade with small glasses of the chilled white wine made, they were proudly informed, from Lagorthi grapes. It was light and fruity, unlike anything Philip had ever drunk. There were different vintages and Blister tried them all.

"A new grape variety on me," said Blister. "Where has it been all my life?"

"Waiting for this moment in the sun with good company," replied Mimsy. "Blister, you're a lucky man."

"A man who's made all his luck."

They sipped their wine and were joined by the vineyard owner. He and Blister began a heated discussion about the grape and winemaking. Mimsy asked Philip if he was enjoying his holiday.

"It's an idyllic place and I'm enjoying the sun and the beach, but the resort itself is a bit like a prison camp."

She laughed. "More so for the staff than the guests. But most guests are very happy to be told what to do. It's no worse than a cruise ship."

Philip took the opportunity to ask a question that had bothered him.

"What do you think of the resort manager, Ben?"

She laughed and didn't reply immediately.

"That's a strange question. He's my boss and I like my job. We have only the most professional of dealings."

"I didn't mean to imply anything else. But I have a reason for asking. I saw him talking to a friend of mine, a young woman who's going through something of a crisis. This was in the Rodwell hotel and I can only imagine they were there so that they wouldn't be seen by her husband, Tim."

"I've seen Nicole. She's a beautiful girl."

"You say that as if it's enough explanation. The question is whether a beautiful and vulnerable young woman, recently married, is safe with Ben."

"You know the answer to that."

"He means to exploit her in some way."

"Don't make me say bad things about my boss."

"Should I try to stop her?"

"Yes. Now tell me what you think about the wine. Isn't it wonderful?"

They stopped in a taverna for a late lunch and Mimsy and Philip chatted while Blister slept it off. After a bit she settled down to sleep too, explaining that the evenings were the busy time for the castle maidens. They didn't get back to the resort until mid-afternoon. At the chalet there was a note waiting for him.

"I looked for you at lunchtime and was sorry to miss you. Maybe you didn't get my note. But wasn't last night bliss? I'm busy till late, but we can have dinner. I'll let you know where. Your darling lover. p.s. expect me at the chalet tonight."