Waves of Betrayal (The Isabel Marsh Trilogy Book 1) (20 page)

‘Well, it wasn’t exactly like that,’ Isabel defends herself, smiling over at Marcos. She hopes desperately that he will step in and change the topic of conversation. ‘I just needed a holiday, that’s all.’ She swigs back the last of her wine and, twisting the stem of the glass between her fingers, indicates that she’d appreciate a top up.

‘No, no, don’t worry Isabel, I totally understand...’ Leanne snorts, filling up her own glass.

‘Good,’ Isabel says, suddenly angry, ‘because you see, Rachel and I spent the first week down in Torremolinos. We needed to let our hair down a bit, you know?’ she continues, taking the bottle back out of the cooler and refilling her glass.
Damn, I must choose my words carefully, I’m in danger of getting very drunk
. ‘Some great bars down there. One particular one... can’t remember the name. Trendy, you know?’ she says, using her full glass to point across at Leanne, looking her directly in the eyes. ‘Beds on the beach and everything. Quite the place-to-be it seems. Surely you must have been there, Leanne?’

Leanne turns a very unhealthy shade of white and begins to play with her hair, hiding her face from Marcos.

‘
Haaaaa’
thinks Isabel, ‘
got ya!’
spilling wine down her chest as she clumsily brings the glass to her lips. She laughs and pushes her chair back. ‘Whoops!’ she giggles, and pulls down the neck of her dress to dab her damp, lace-trimmed cleavage dry. ‘Silly me!’ she says, leaning towards Marcos and whispering her apologies.

Leanne has fallen silent and simply stares at Isabel, wondering how far this is going to go.
Fuck, how much does she know?!

‘There’s a lovely little English café near where I’m staying. They do a great English breakfast. You should pop in one day if you’re passing, Leanne.’ Isabel sarcastically continues her parade of not-so-subtle hints. ‘Lots of young couples, you know? Romantically holding hands over the tables and all that... ha!!!’ she laughs satisfied, as she sits heavily back down onto her chair and looks at Leanne’s flushed face. ‘You’d love it.’

Isabel turns to Marcos, who seems more than a little confused by the conversation, ‘do you think we may have some coffee?’ she giggles, gripping his forearm with her hand and smiling up at him, ‘I think the wine has gone to my head!’

‘Of course,’ he laughs, ‘I’ll just call Marisa.’

‘No,’ says Leanne quickly, ‘I’ll go. I have to go to the bathroom anyway.’ Marcos and Isabel watch as she scurries inside.

‘See if you can find that bikini while you’re there sweetheart,’ he shouts after her.

‘Isa, I hope you didn’t mind me mentioning Paul. I thought you might have already told Leanne. Sorry if I put you on the spot,’ he says, apologetically.

‘Oh, don’t worry about that Marcos. The trouble is, now she probably believes more than ever that I’ve come to steal you away!’ she smiles, resting her chin in her hands and staring up into his eyes.

‘Well, haven’t you??!’ he asks jokingly, whilst he leans forward and tucks a stray curl slowly behind her ear. He expects her to laugh, but instead Isabel remains serious and doesn’t look away. She has so many things to say to this man in front of her, but she knows that it would be wrong, it would ruin everything.

‘Perhaps I should go?’ she asks quietly and stands up, reaching for her handbag.

‘No, please, Isabel, stay for a while longer. Have a coffee, a swim, I enjoy having you here. Please Isa, for me.’ The pleading look in his eyes convinces her to stay, in spite of her better judgement.

They are sipping their coffee when Leanne appears on the terrace, wearing a bikini with a sarong tied loosely around her waist.

 ‘I found this one. Not sure if it’ll fit?’ she says, in a surprisingly friendly tone, and hands over an animal print bikini with a halter neck.

‘Thank you, Leanne,’ says Isabel, admiring the bikini. She expected a wet suit or a full bathing-costume at least.
So, the threat has worked
, she thinks, with a satisfied grin.
Since when did I become so vindictive?
Isabel asks herself, but she realises that she already knows the answer to that question.

Feeling a bit less drunk, Isabel admires herself in Leanne’s bikini in the bathroom mirror. It fits her perfectly and it even enhances her cleavage. Leanne must have more to hide than she first thought!

Wrapping herself in the beach towel that Marcos had given her, she makes her way out to the pool and sees that Leanne and Marcos are already in the water. Leanne’s legs are wrapped firmly around Marcos’s waist as he spins her around, creating waves as they laugh together.

‘Hey,’ calls Isabel as she approaches, feeling uncomfortable, ‘what’s the water like?’

‘Beautiful! Come on in!’ shouts Marcos, as he lowers Leanne on to her feet and treads water next to her. Isabel walks down the first two steps tentatively, ‘brrrr, it’s cold,’ she says, aware of both pairs of eyes focussed on her in the tiny bikini.

‘Best to just jump in,’ suggests Marcos, whilst he and Leanne swim to the shallow end.

Isabel dives, flawlessly, into the water, hardly causing a ripple on the surface and emerges in front of them, sweeping her hair back off her face. ‘Wow, you’re right, it’s perfect!’ she exhales, sighing and turning to float on her back, looking up at the stars. ‘I wish I could stay here forever,’ she adds quietly, kicking her legs and propelling herself back to the deep end. With her ears under the water, all she can hear are bubbles and the swell of the water against the side of the pool. She closes her eyes and lets herself float for a while.

Suddenly, her quiet moment is interrupted by voices, but she can’t make out what they are saying until she feels somebody viciously yank her hair. Her neck is jolted back under the water. She kicks and struggles and desperately tries to reach the surface, her nose filling with chlorinated water. She can’t make a sound, her mouth tightly shut, her lungs desperately trying to hold on to the last remaining oxygen. Her eyes are burning, as she opens them in a desperate attempt to see through the thick wall of bubbles. Her arms thrash around her, trying to find something to hold onto. She vaguely makes out Leanne’s legs and a blur of her orange bikini, distorted under the water. Isabel reaches out, her lungs burning.

After what seems like an eternity, above the pulsating, plunging sounds filling her ears, she thinks she can hear a voice. Somebody is shouting her name. The night air is cold on her skin, when she feels herself being pulled from the water.

Isabel lies, limp and lifeless, on the side of the pool until somebody rolls her onto her side. She feels as if she is going to choke as her throat fills with water, which then pours from her mouth onto the grass. She is aware of a hand stroking her hair and rubbing her back vigorously. Her body continues to convulse, ejecting the water from her lungs. Slowly she is able to draw longer breaths and her mind is filled with images of her parents and Paul looking down on her, their faces full of concern.
Have I actually died...?
she thinks for a moment. She is confused and delirious and has no idea where she is or what has happened.

A face closes in to hers as she opens her eyes slowly.
Paul?
Not Paul, but somebody else.

‘Isabel, it’s Marcos. Can you hear me?’ Isabel tries to clear her throat, making a guttural sound and manages to nod as she starts to shiver uncontrollably. He covers her gently with a towel and looks up at Leanne.

 ‘What the hell happened here!?’ His voice sounds full of anger and fear.

‘I don’t know,’ Leanne answers, pulling her own towel around herself. ‘Her hair, I think it was trapped in the filter,’ she says with seemingly genuine concern in her voice.

Marcos kneels down next to Isabel, stroking her hair with one hand and rubbing her shoulder with the other. ‘The ambulance will be here in a few minutes,’ he whispers ‘there’s no need to worry.’

Isabel opens her eyes further and sees the painted toes of the girl standing next to him.
Leanne.
She looks up to her face but can only see fear and pity in her eyes. She turns immediately back to Marcos and grabs his hand, not wanting to be left alone, ‘shhhhh,’ he says soothingly, ‘you’ll be alright. Just stay where you are.’

She hears car doors slamming and watches as Leanne’s feet pad across the lawn towards the house. She tries to speak which sends her into a coughing fit again, as more water dribbles onto the lawn from the corner of her mouth.

The paramedics are quick and efficient. Luckily there is no permanent damage. She doesn’t need to be hospitalised, as long as there is somebody to stay with her for the next couple of days to keep an eye on her. Marcos immediately insists that she will stay with him.

He turns to Leanne, ‘You’d better call yourself a taxi. I don’t want to leave Isabel,’ he says abruptly, as she closes her eyes in exhaustion.

Leanne watches, feeling tears of shock and jealousy stinging the back of her eyes, as Marcos wraps Isabel up in her towel and carries her towards the house.

When Isabel wakes up, she is lying in an enormous bed with cool fresh sheets and soft pillows. She moves her legs and realises that they are bare but, she is aware that she is wearing a shirt that smells subtly of Marcos’s aftershave. Her hair is still damp and tangled. She wonders for a few seconds where she is, until she has a vivid flashback of the wall of bubbles, the distorted palm trees through the water, and the pain in her lungs. She sits upright, breathing rapidly, her eyes scanning the room wildly but seeing nothing.

‘It’s ok, it’s ok,’ says a soothing voice from a chair in the corner of the room. She tries to focus on the figure, her arms thrashing around in front of her. ‘Marcos?’ she manages to say when she recognises his face, before falling back into the pillows. ‘Oh shit, I couldn’t breathe,’ she whispers, her hand on her throat.

‘I know, I know. But you’re ok now,’ he says, stroking her arm tenderly.

‘She tried to kill me,’ says Isabel, her voice filled with panic, her eyes wide, reaching out and grabbing him by his wrists.

‘Who?’ he asks, smiling, trying to calm her. ‘You’ve been dreaming, Isa. It’s all over now. Your hair was caught in the filter, remember? Leanne pulled you out,’ he says sympathetically, stroking her cheek, ‘you’ve had a bad shock and you must rest.’

‘Don’t go!’ pleads Isabel, ‘lie here with me... please.’

‘Ok,’ he agrees quietly as he lies on top of the covers next to her and puts a protective arm around her waist, ‘close your eyes.
Ya está, ya está
.’

M
arcos opens his eyes and sees the rays of sunlight shining through the slats in the blinds, dimly illuminating the bedroom. He assumes that it must still be early, as the room is still cool, the sun not yet intense. He can rarely sleep beyond eight o’clock in the summer without air-conditioning. He raises himself sleepily onto his elbow and looks at Isabel, she is still asleep. She has one hand tucked under her face, curled up on her side, breathing softly. He feels an overwhelming desire to reach out and touch her face, for her to open her eyes and turn to face him. In the silence of early morning, it all seems so natural, so innocent. He hovers his palm over her forehead, but something inside him tells him to stop. Lying next to each other, he would comfort her and comforting would turn into kissing, into wanting.
No!
He quickly pulls his hand away, knowing that he would not be able to control his feelings for her.

He slides off the bed as quietly as he can and slips out of the room. He stands still behind the door and breathes deeply, trying to control the fizzing sensation of desire in the pit of his stomach. Eventually, he tears himself away from temptation and picks up his mobile on the kitchen surface to distract himself. He is immediately filled with guilt, as it is only 7 a.m. and he already has five missed calls from Leanne.
She will be getting ready for work now
, he thinks, and is probably worried about Isabel. He returns her call immediately and she answers on the second ring.

‘
Cariño,
I’m so sorry,’ says Marcos in a quiet voice, ‘my phone was in the kitchen. I didn’t hear your calls.’

‘I was worried. How are you? How’s Isabel?’

‘I’m fine. Isabel woke up in the night. Nightmares, poor thing, but she seems to be sleeping well now. Thank god you were able to free her hair from the filter,’ his says, rubbing the back of his neck, thinking back to how scared he had been, seeing her lying there.

‘It was horrible, Marcos. Is she staying with you then? Can I come over this evening after work?’ she asks.

‘Maybe give her until tomorrow,’ he answers tactfully, ‘she needs to rest Lea. She’s still really shaken up
sabes
? She thinks someone was trying to drown her.’

‘My goodness, how awful,’ Leanne says in a harsh whisper, ‘it must be the trauma. Tell her I’ll come over on Thursday to see her won’t you? I want to see
you
before I go away too, my love.’ She paces her terrace, fighting the desire to get in her car and drive over there right now.

‘Of course. I’ll miss you. Thank you Leanne. You are my treasure; you know that, don’t you?’

‘Of course, sweetheart,’ she says as gently as she can, ‘I have to go to work now. I love you.’

‘Love you too. Bye, darling.’

He ends the call and stands staring at his phone on the kitchen surface.
How can this be possible?
he thinks.
I am engaged to be married to the most beautiful, sweet and generous girl and yet there seems to be something missing.
He feels so angry with himself. Confused. He has always known what he wanted and, until Isabel came back into his life, he really thought that he had it all. He is not used to being out of control and he hates it. He thumps the marble kitchen surface with his fist and grips the edge with both hands until his knuckles turn white. Leaning his head back he lets out a deep, frustrated groan, closing his eyes so tightly that he starts to feel dizzy.

Slumping down onto the cool surface, his head in his hands, he decides that he needs to get out. He pulls on a pair of shorts from the laundry basket and finds his trainers in the cupboard by the front door. He steps outside and, breathing the fresh morning air, he instantly starts to feel a bit better. He shakes out his arms and legs, rotates his shoulders and begins to jog slowly to the gate. Once on the dusty mountain track, he feels energised and he increases his pace, concentrating on the loose stones beneath his feet, jumping over the occasional prickly plant invading the path. He doesn’t stop until he reaches the view point, five kilometres from his house, where he can look down on Torremolinos, the Port of Málaga, and the impressive peaks of the Sierra Nevada in the distance. He leans forward and grips the wooden rail in front of him. He stretches his legs and enjoys the feeling of the sweat trickling down his back. He takes a few deep breaths, stretching his arms behind his head, before drinking thirstily from a natural water fountain. He cups his hands and splashes the cool water over his face, then turns back into the direction of his house, bouncing athletically on the balls of his feet before breaking into a run again. The endorphins released into his system through the vigorous exercise make him smile. He feels good again.
I will control this,
he thinks, and bounds down the narrow path leaving a cloud of dust behind him.