Three's a Crowd (3 page)

No sign of Eve.

“They’re buying perfume now,” Ryan said, stretching out his legs in the seat opposite. “To attract the buff Spanish pool boys.”

I stared at him, wondering how he could possibly be thinking that and looking so relaxed.

“Don’t you mind?” I said.

“What? That Chloe fancies the idea of other guys?” Ryan grinned. “Be weird if she didn’t, wouldn’t it? We do. Other girls, I mean.”

I shook my head. “That’s different.”

“Why?” Ryan laughed at me.

I shrugged. It was too hard to explain. Of course
I
noticed and fancied other girls. It was like a knee-jerk reaction that had nothing to do with how I felt about Eve. But for
her
it was different. If she wanted someone else, she’d get them – no question. And if she got them . . . I chewed on my lip. I’d go mad if I let myself even think about it.

Ryan leaned forwards, his fringe flopping over his eyes. “You need to calm down, man,” he said. “Seriously. The worst thing you could do is get all clingy with her. Girls hate that.”

He sat back. I jammed my earphones right into my ears and sank deeper into my seat.

Towards the end of the two-and-a-half hour flight, Eve started fidgeting in her seat. Then she disappeared into the aeroplane toilet for so long I started to get worried she’d fainted or something.

At last she re-emerged. She’d changed out of the sexy, strappy top into a pink dress, a big T-shirty sort of thing with a teddy bear on the front.

“Why’ve you put that on?” I said.

“My dad got it for me.” She sat back down next to me. Her forehead creased with an anxious frown. “Does it look okay?”

I stared at her. Eve was one of the least vain people I’d ever met. I couldn’t remember the last time she’d talked about what she was wearing or asked me how she looked.

I took in the pink dress. It was a bit shapeless though at least, I reflected, that might stop other blokes staring at her. More than that, though, it made her look about six years old. Eve smiled at me – a wobbly, uncertain smile.

“Luke?”

“You look great,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

Eve gave a distracted little nod, then sat back in her seat. A minute later I turned round. A tear was trickling down her face.

Jesus.
Had I done that?

“Eve?” I leaned sideways and touched her arm. “What’s the matter?”

She looked at me, her lips trembling. “It’s just the thought of seeing my dad. I haven’t – not since before I met you. It’s always like that when he’s setting up a new business and. . .” Another tear trickled down her face. “. . .I miss him and I always worry before I see him. D’you understand?”

I nodded, though I had no idea what she might be worrying about. This was something Ryan had taught me. Always look as if you’re listening – even if you don’t understand what they’re talking about.

It seemed to work.

Eve snuggled up next to me. We kissed slurpily. But not for long. Unlike Chloe, who – I suspect – actually enjoys being watched mid-snog, Eve gets very self-conscious if we’re anywhere remotely public. It’s always, “not here”, “not now”.

Soon she pulled away from me. “Crap,” she said. “I’ll have to check my make-up. Daddy hates it if he thinks I’m wearing too much.”

She disappeared into the toilets again. I sat back, feeling uneasy. I hadn’t given Eve’s dad a single thought so far. Now I wondered what he was going to be like.

At last we arrived in Mallorca. Palma Airport was nothing special on the inside. We might as well have been in London apart from the signs in Spanish everywhere.

Eve and I picked up our luggage off the conveyor belt and trundled behind Ryan and Chloe through customs. The air conditioning in the airport was set to icy. I noticed Eve shiver.

“It’ll be warmer outside,” I said, putting my arm round her shoulders. I’d grown a good couple of centimetres over the past few months and was now almost a head taller than she was. Her shoulder was at the perfect level for my arm. And, normally, Eve was perfectly happy for me to put my arm round her. Not today, though. She wriggled. Then she shrugged my arm off. Then she darted ahead of me, past Ryan and Chloe, towards the exit gate.

I frowned and sped up slightly. Not in a clingy, needy way. Just so as not to lose sight of her.

She rushed through the exit, her hair flying behind her.

I passed Chloe and Ryan.

“Why is Eve wearing a child’s nightie?” I heard Ryan asking.

I gritted my teeth and headed into the arrivals area after Eve. It was packed. Crowds of people were jammed up against the barrier gates, peering in, looking out for their own particular new arrival.

I felt a twinge of jealousy as Eve darted about. Half the people behind the gates were staring at her.

Then Eve gave a squeal. She rushed towards the end of the barriers, where fewer people were standing.

A tall, well-built man stepped out from the crowd. He had slicked-back hair – as dark as Eve’s was fair – and a tanned, slightly wasted face. It was easy to see that he must have once been very good-looking.

He grinned and threw his arms open wide. Eve flung herself at him, wrapping herself tightly round his neck. “Daddy,” she shrieked.

Ryan and Chloe carried on sauntering towards them. I stopped, gripped by my most disturbing feelings of jealousy so far.

For God’s sake. He’s her father.

I repeated this to myself several times. But it didn’t lighten the heavy, sick feeling that was ploughing up my stomach as I watched Eve hugging him. I strolled up behind Chloe and Ryan.

Eve’s eyes were shining. “This is Chloe,” she said.

Her dad held out a large, be-ringed hand towards Chloe. “Beautiful,” he murmured, rolling the word out slowly. “What a beautiful friend you have, Babycakes.”

Chloe blushed. I glanced at Ryan. He was grinning.

That’s Ryan all over. He appreciates good flirting. Whoever it’s aimed at. Personally I was starting to think Eve’s dad was a bit of a sleazeball cliché. His right hand was loaded down with gold rings and his shirt was open, revealing a bronzed chest.

“I’m John Ripley,” Eve’s dad said, pumping Chloe’s hand and gazing at her with hooded eyes. “My friends call me Jonno.”

He turned back to Eve. “You look lovely, Babycakes. More like your mother each time I see you.” He raised his eyebrows. “How is her ladyship?”

“Fine,” Eve lowered her eyes and picked at the teddy bear on her dress. “She says ‘hi’.”

I knew this was a lie. Eve’s mother never talked about her father. Eve had told me many times.
He was the love of her life, then he ran off with a cocktail waitress when I was five. He gives her money and stuff, but she still feels really hurt – to be honest, I think she’s scared of him.

I stood awkwardly, wondering when Jonno (and what a freakin’ stupid name
that
was) was going to notice me and Ryan.

He kissed the side of Eve’s head and whispered something in her ear. At last he turned back to Chloe.

“So tell me, Chloe, which of these young men is your brother and which is your boyfriend?”

I frowned as Chloe introduced Ryan. There was something wrong. Why was Eve’s dad not asking where
her
boyfriend was?

“And this is Luke.”

I felt the full force of Jonno’s steely grey-green eyes on my face. He looked stern – almost fierce. He shoved out his hand. Quick pump.

“Pleased to meet you,” he said. Then he dropped my hand and turned back to Eve.

“Let’s go, Babycakes.” He put his arm round her shoulders. Right where mine had been just minutes before. “The car’s outside.”

I picked up my bag and Eve’s and struggled after them.

Outside the heat hit me like a flamethrower. It was so steamily hot it was almost hard to breathe.

“Don’t worry,” Jonno said with a wave of his hand. “It’ll be cooler when we get to the hotel. Less humid. Only idiot Brits come out at this time of day, anyway.”

By the time we’d reached the car park and found Jonno’s bright red Jeep Grand Cherokee, I was drenched in sweat. Somehow both Jonno and Eve had managed to remain relatively fresh-looking, though I was pleased to see Ryan pulling his damp T-shirt away from his chest.

“Man, it’s hot,” he said.

“Mmmn.” I watched Jonno opening the passenger doors on one side of the car and ushering Eve and Chloe along the cool, leather seats.

“Which means just one thing . . .” Ryan nudged me in the ribs.

“What?” I said. Jonno had walked round the Jeep now and was getting into the driver’s seat. I suspected he would quite happily have driven off and left me and Ryan behind.

“Girls in very, very skimpy clothes,” Ryan hissed.

I nodded, distractedly. Eve hadn’t even looked at me since we’d left the airport. It was like I didn’t exist. I was suddenly transported back to the days when I used to watch her wandering around school, wondering whether I would ever have the courage to speak to her.

I sat, hunched, in a corner of the back seat as we pulled out of Palma Airport and through snarling queues of honking traffic. Jonno had put the AC on at full blast and I was soon shivering.

Jonno chatted away to the girls, one large hand spread over the steering wheel, the other tapping on the side of the car door. Ryan, who was sitting immediately behind him, leaned forwards and joined in.

He asked loads of questions about the resort – where it was, how big it was – that sort of thing. Ryan’s brilliant at talking to people. You could see Jonno warming to him, starting to volunteer all sorts of information.

“We’re based just up the coast from Cala del Toro. South-east of the island. Nearest big town’s Felanitx. Most of the British operations are in the north, round Pollença, but we’ve got a great spot. Not full, but for a first season we’re not doing so bad. Not far off our rack rates on the suites anyway.”

I watched the four of them, chattering and laughing as we left the traffic behind and sped along an open road. The sun was low in a clear blue sky and the landscape open – dry, rocky, straw-coloured ground stretching away towards green fields with olive trees and little stone cottages in the distance. We rounded a bend onto the coast road and saw the sea – dark blue in the distance, pale green near the bay below.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” Eve gasped, leaning forwards.

She beamed up at her dad, then turned round and grinned at me.

I forced a smile onto my mouth.

You remembered I’m here, then?

Eve looked puzzled, but she didn’t say anything. Just turned back and started chatting to her dad again.

The holiday was not, I felt, getting off to a good start.

The light was starting to fade by the time Jonno slowed the car to pull through Cala del Toro. It was very quiet – road after road of old, tall terraced buildings with flower boxes at the windows. The main street was slightly busier, full of little shops with faded awnings.

We swung round a big stone plaza with a huge tree in the middle. Dotted around the edges were a series of tables and chairs, each obviously belonging to one of the cafes in the roads opposite the square.

They were mostly empty.

“Nothing much gets going till at least nine or ten here,” Jonno said. “Later on the plaza’ll be really happening.”

Really happening?
For God’s sake.

I glanced at Ryan, hoping to exchange a grimace, but he was staring out of the window.

A mile or so along the empty road out of Cala del Toro and we reached a high stone wall. Jonno slowed the Jeep.

“We’re here. La Villa Bonita,” he announced. “
Bonita
means pretty,” he added, turning to Eve. “I named it after you.”

“Da-ad,” Eve murmured. But I could tell she was pleased.

I scowled. What an idiot.

Jonno pulled the Jeep through an arch in the stone wall. A sprawling white building stood at the end of a long, dusty drive. Part of it was on two floors, the rest was flat-roofed and fronted with brightly coloured flowers.

I had to admit the effect was . . . well . . . pretty.

As Jonno stopped the car outside a long wooden porch, two guys in blue jackets appeared from nowhere, rushing to open both front doors. A whoosh of warm air entered the freezing car interior.

“
Hola, Señor Ripley
,” one of them said in a thick Spanish accent. “Good trip?”

“Yeah, cheers, Marco.” Jonno jumped out and clapped the nearer of the two guys on the back. He was young. Probably no older than me or Ry. And quite short, with a slightly blobby nose. He grinned past Jonno to us in the back.

I scrambled out of the car, enjoying the feel of the warm air against my skin. It was still hot, but not humid any more, with a light breeze. In the distance I could hear the tumble and splash of the sea. Crickets rasped all around us. It was perfect, except . . . I looked at Eve. I was
sure
she was avoiding me now.

“Marco, take Ryan and Lance to their room will you?” Jonno said.

I glared at him.
Lance?

Ryan sniggered, but Jonno didn’t appear to notice.

“I’ll show the girls to their rooms myself,” he said. “Everyone meet in the lobby. Half an hour.”

He stuck a fat cigar in his mouth, then flung his arms round Eve and Chloe and herded them towards the front entrance. I took a step after them, but Marco laid his hand on my arm.

“No that way, please,” he said. “You follow me?”

Ryan and I were sharing a room round the side of the hotel. It was at the end of a long row – large and square, with a tile floor and two single beds.

Marco pointed to the TV in the far corner. “No Sky,” he grinned. “Only Spanish TV.”

“No worries, man,” Ryan said. “We’re not here to watch TV, ’cept maybe a bit of football.”

Marco laughed. “You like Real Madrid? Everyone from England like Real?”

“Nah, I’m more of a Barca fan.” And Ryan was off, chatting away like he’d known Marco for years. It turned out Marco lived nearby and was working at La Villa Bonita over the school holidays. I stood by the window tuning in and out of their conversation and staring at a patch of concrete outside. A low brick wall ran halfway across it, then just stopped, as if someone had started building and then given up.