Waves of Betrayal (The Isabel Marsh Trilogy Book 1) (25 page)

Marisa brings out some wine to go with the salad and a big basket of rustic bread. ‘Not for me.’ Declines Leanne, ‘it will make me fat, Marcos.’ She looks lovingly up at him, tapping her perfectly toned stomach.

Apart from Leanne’s strange behaviour, the evening passes without so much as an evil stare between either of them.
This time the alcohol seemed to have had a calming effect
, thinks Isabel,
but, then again, I’m so tired of playing this awful game
. After coffee and liqueurs Isabel decides to excuse herself. It’s getting late and she has to be up early for their walk in the mountains tomorrow before it gets too hot.

‘Sleep well, Isabel. See you in the morning,’ says Marcos, smiling up at her.

‘Night Isabel. So glad you’re feeling better,’ Leanne says, making a display of climbing onto Marco’s lap as Isabel disappears inside.

A
fter lying awake, trying to read her book and drinking another glass of wine in an attempt to dull her senses, she eventually falls asleep to the giggles and creaks coming from Marcos’s bedroom.
Purely for my benefit
, she had thought.
And come to think of it, it was only Leanne’s voice that I had heard
. For all she knew, Marcos was asleep on the sofa!

At 7 a.m. Isabel climbs out of bed, scrapes her hair back into a tight pony tail and has a refreshing shower. By the time she is dressed and ready for coffee, Leanne has already left.
Such a pity!
she thinks.

Marcos is already at the breakfast bar, sipping an espresso and checking his phone when Isabel walks into the kitchen.

‘Morning!’ she says cheerfully, ‘coffee this morning, I think!’ she laughs.

‘Hey, good morning! Did you set an alarm?’ he asks.

‘Nope. I am just excited about today’s adventure!’ she smiles, pouring herself a long black coffee.

‘Sleep ok?’

‘Like a baby,’ she lies.

‘Good!’ he says, looking slightly embarrassed. ‘Marisa has made us sandwiches to take up with us,’ he adds, pointing to the loaded rucksack by the patio door. ‘Plenty of water too. Can I fry you an egg for breakfast?’

‘Perfect. Sounds like I’ll need my energy then?’ she smiles, sipping her hot coffee and settling herself on one of the tall stools at the table.

She watches as he happily toasts bagels and fries eggs, opening and closing various cupboards in search of other “secret” ingredients. The final result is simple, yet delicious. Marcos serves the fried eggs with a perfect runny yolk on top of half of the bagel. He garnishes it with a small blob of mayonnaise and a touch of parsley. Isabel puts down her coffee, admiring the presentation, before pressing the other half of the bagel on top and cutting into it slowly. Her mouth waters whilst she watches the yolk ooze onto the plate from between the two halves.

‘Please don’t watch as I eat this!’ she giggles, trying her best to pick it up without dripping egg all over her t-shirt. She leans forward and takes a big bite, feeling the yolk run out of the other side, over her fingers.

Marcos promised not to watch, but laughs and throws her a napkin as he studies his own bagel and how best to approach it!

Breakfast turns out to be a lot of fun as they tease each other about their table etiquette, both mopping up the pools of yolk from their plates with the remaining, bite-sized pieces of bagel.

‘That should be an Olympic sport,’ laughs Isabel, wiping her mouth thoroughly with the napkin. She excuses herself as she goes to wash her hands and face. ‘This walk should be a piece of cake compared to that challenging warm-up,’ she shouts from the bathroom.

Marcos slowly parks the car in the car park of a viewpoint called
El Mirador,
overlooking the coast, far below. It is only 8.30 in the morning but there are already two cars parked there. One has just arrived and two men step out into the fresh morning air. They are dressed for cross-country running in bright yellow Club t-shirts and bandanas. They adjust their watches and other gadgets, before warming-up against a wooden fence and setting off at a steady pace, into the shady forest.

‘Ready?’ asks Marcos, adjusting the straps of his backpack.

‘Absolutely,’ says Isabel happily, turning to admire him in his khaki shorts and brown leather walking boots. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to carry anything?’ she asks, feeling slightly guilty.

‘No, I’m used to it,’ he smiles, ‘it’s not heavy anyway and it’ll only get lighter as we eat and drink our way through the contents!’ he laughs. ‘Right, it’s only a circular route and there’s plenty of shade along the way. Shall I lead, Miss Marsh?’

‘After you,’ she says, stepping aside as he strides towards the narrow, dusty mountain track.

After only half an hour of brisk walking, Isabel can already feel the sweat trickling down her back. The track is not steep but there is a definite incline and the terrain is stony, making it more difficult to keep an even stride.

‘You, ok?’ Marcos asks, ‘Fancy a swig of water?’

‘Oh yes please,’ answers Isabel, as he slows down to a stop and slides the rucksack off his back. His t-shirt is already soaked and sticking to his back. He bends down to retrieve a large bottle of water.

‘You first,’ he offers.

Isabel takes several long gulps of cold water, handing the bottle back to Marcos gratefully. ‘It’s so beautiful up here,’ she says, resting her hands on her hips and looking up to the craggy peaks.

‘Look, eagles,’ says Marcos, pointing to four or five huge birds with an unbelievable wingspan, circling high above them on the rising thermal winds.

‘Oh my god,’ gasps Isabel, ‘aren’t they beautiful? So graceful. They’re just gliding up there. How amazing must that be, to be able to do that?’

Marcos looks over at Isabel, one hand shading her eyes from the sun as she stares in awe at the sky.

‘Is there any other “wildlife” up here? Anything I should be worried about?’ she smiles, taking the bottle back from Marcos and drinking thirstily.

‘Apart from friendly, shy Ibex..., only snakes and wild boar,’ says Marcos with a grin.

‘Really??’ gasps Isabel, swallowing the mouthful of water, her hand on her chest.

‘Yes, really, but you rarely see any and they’re not out to attack you anyway. And I’d protect you!’ he winks, taking the water bottle from her and screwing the top firmly back on.

‘Ok, the picnic spot is about an hour away from here but we’re going to go into the forest for a while now. Enjoy a bit of shade! You ready,
campeona
?!’ he asks, gripping her shoulder playfully.

‘
Adelante,’
she confirms smiling, pushing him in the direction of the trees.

They keep a brisk pace on the soft forest track, through the enormous pines, dodging roots and having to leave the path at one point, to scramble over a fallen tree. Isabel glimpses the golden yellow and brown patchwork of fields through the branches and the occasional picturesque white village, nestled against the distant mountains. They emerge back out into the sun, having reached a col, a mountain pass, where they stand and admire the views on both sides. One side stretches towards the Costa del Sol and the shimmering horizon and, the other side, towards the vast, flat plains of Seville.

‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ whispers Marcos with genuine emotion, as he stands and admires the landscape. ‘No matter how many times I come up here, I never get bored of it. Every day is different,’ he smiles.

‘I would come up here every day if I lived here,’ mutters Isabel, trying to take in the vast expanse of land.

‘Come,’ he says, and jumps down a steep rocky section on the south side of the ridge, before reaching back up to take Isabel’s hand, helping her down to a sheltered, shady spot beneath the trees. ‘Ideal picnic spot,’ he says proudly, unbuckling the belt of his rucksack and settling himself down on a large flat rock, big enough to serve as a bench for the two of them.

‘You’ve done
this
before!’ she jokes.

‘Only on my own though,’ he smiles, ‘this is the first time I’ve shared this place with anyone.’

‘Well then, I’m genuinely privileged’ Isabel says, sitting down and pulling her legs in towards her chest. She rests her chin on her knees and gazes out towards the coast.

As Isabel admires the view and feels herself relax totally for the first time in a very long time, Marcos busies himself with the contents of his backpack. By the time she feels a light tap on her shoulder, there is nothing short of a banquet laid out between them on the rock.

‘Woah, Marcos! I thought you said sandwiches?! Does Marisa have a Michelin star, or what?!’ she giggles, admiring the spread.

‘She’s a sweetheart,’ he agrees, removing the tops from a variety of Tupperware containers and passing her a plastic wine glass.

‘Wine as well?!’ she laughs, ‘In England, it’s customary to bring a flask of tea!’

‘We’re in Spain now, Isa’ he winks, ‘and, anyway, this is a special occasion.’

‘It is?’ she asks expectantly, her head on one side, admiring the glass in her hand. It sparkles in the sunlight.

‘Your first day up in the mountains,’ he says, raising his glass up to meet hers, ‘
salud!’

‘
Salud,
cheers,’ says Isabel. Marcos reaches over to kiss her on the cheek.

Isabel takes a sip of wine and hovers over the mouth-watering selection of
tapas
, with a little plastic fork in her hand. Cheeses, hams, salads, olives, little semi-circular pastries filled with tuna and tomato, bread and even little miniature pots of extra virgin olive oil.

‘I don’t know where to start!’ she says, giggling, feeling very spoiled.

Suddenly, Marcos reaches out and rests his hand on Isabel’s knee, a serious look on his face. ‘Isa,’ he starts, ‘I think you know by now how I feel about you?’

Startled by this sudden turn of conversation, Isabel blushes as she hears herself quietly confirming her mutual feelings for him, without so much as a pause, ‘I do...’ Her fork remains poised over a pot of potato salad. ‘But I’m scared,’ she adds, looking down at the stones beneath her feet.

‘I know, and I understand. I’m scared too,’ he continues, ‘This is not a joke Isabel. For me, this is a very big thing. Leaving the girl that I was so certain I would marry,’ he says, his Spanish accent sounding stronger than ever.

‘Is that what you want?’ she asks, nervously, dropping her fork on top of the salad, her eyes filling with tears.

‘Oh yes, most definitely, my Isabel,’ says Marcos. He reaches over and cups her face with both hands, clumsily gripping his wine glass between his knees. ‘I tried to fight it,’ he says, hanging his head as he drops his hands into his lap. ‘I am not a bad person, you understand?’ He looks back up into her eyes, imploring her to believe him. ‘I really loved Leanne and I really
did
want to marry her... but you made me see that things weren’t really right between the two of us. Do you know what I mean?’ he asks, sitting close to her as they both look out over the tree tops to a hazy, distant horizon.

‘I do,’ whispers Isabel again, as he gently takes her hand in his. They sip their wine, slowly drifting off into the silence that surrounds them, each lost in their own thoughts.

‘What will she say?’ asks Isabel eventually, looking up at Marcos, her face full of concern.

‘I don’t know,’ he admits, rubbing Isabel’s fingers between his own, ‘but it’s not fair not to be honest with her.’

 He finishes his glass of wine and places it down resolutely on the ground beside him. ‘I’ll tell her tonight, after I’ve dropped you back at your house.’

Isabel reaches up and kisses him, just once, on the lips. She nods seriously, neither of them feels it would be appropriate to take things any further, yet. They sit and nibble on the delicious pots of food, contemplating the enormity of their decision. They are both bursting with happiness and excitement, but are also aware of the massive repercussions their relationship will have on other people.

Isabel struggles to stop her mind from racing ahead.
My life will be changed forever. What about Cartheston, my friends, Paul, my job, my colleagues and pupils!
Everyone and everything that she will leave behind if she begins a new life here in Spain. She looks around at the beautiful landscape and the handsome man beside her. It takes every ounce of self-restraint that she possesses to prevent her from running up to the peak of the mountain and screaming at the top of her lungs. She feels so free, so alive. Yet neither of them want to cross that line, out of respect for Marcos’s promise to Leanne.

The track back down the other side of the mountain widens, allowing them to walk side-by-side, talking about anything
but
their future together. It feels almost as though neither one of them wants to tempt fate and burst this perfect bubble of happiness.

As they see the carpark re-appear below them, in the distance, the mood becomes more serious. They can feel each other’s tension and, despite Isabel’s complete and justifiable dislike of Leanne, she can’t help but feel sorry for her.
Even if she did try to drown me
, she thinks, looking up at Marcos’s profile and wonders what is going through his head. How is his going to tell her. Leanne has proven herself to be so volatile that Isabel actually worries for Marcos’ safety. But, she also secretly worries that Leanne will prey on his sensitive, moral character and actually convince him to go through with the wedding.
No, no way!
The more Isabel thinks about it, the sicker she feels.

‘Are you ok?’ asks Marcos, looking down at her pale, serious face.

‘I will be,’ she smiles, awkwardly. ‘Do you know what you’re going to say?’ she asks.

‘Yes,’ he says succinctly, ‘and you don’t have to worry. Please,’ he stresses, gripping her hand in his. ‘I’ll let you know as soon as it’s all over, I promise.’

S
he knows that she should probably avoid alcohol at a time like this but, not wanting to talk to Rachel or anybody else, until she knows what has happened between Marcos and Leanne, Isabel takes out a bottle of chilled gin from the fridge and pours herself a large measure. She adds ice, tops it up with tonic, and heads pensively up to the roof terrace.