Читать книгу For The Love Of Sara - Christopher Lee - Страница 14

CHAPTER 9

The rest of the holiday seemed to fly by. During the day they went site seeing. The island was covered in talayots – megalithic rock mounds that date back to the second millennium BC. The children climbed the taulas – huge T-shaped stone slabs and played inside the navetas, stone slab constructions which look like inverted loaf tins.

They visited the early morning fish market at the Plaza Espana in Mahon reached from a twisting flight of steps from the quay. They shopped in the municipal market housed in the cloisters of the Carmelite church behind the Plaza Carmen, and they visited the ice cream factory in Alayor.

During the evenings the children disappeared off to the hotel while Jill and Grant played cards on their patio. Grant saw Sara around the hotel, often on the space invader machine, but apart from a polite hello, had no further contact with her. He took his swim later in the morning with the rest of the family.

“It’s our last night tonight dad,” said Emma. “Are we doing anything special?”

“I think it will be good in the disco tonight,” said Jill applying some mascara. “There are a lot of people going home tomorrow and I think they are having a party night.”

“Way to go, man,” shouted Ben. “I’m a party animal, dude.”

Sally laughed. She was already, dressed in a pink and green jumpsuit with matching hair ribbons.

“That’s settled then,” said Grant picking up his Rolex watch from the table. Party time it is then.”

Dinner was ‘scrum’ according to Ben, burgers and salad. Grant thought Jill looked particularly nice in a plain white dress cut just above the knee. It showed off her deep tan to perfection. They finished their meal with ice creams served with lighted sparklers. Aware of having to drive back to the hotel, Grant limited himself to two glasses of wine. Jill finished the bottle and giggled all the way back. When they got to the disco, the bar was already heaving and they had to settle for a table by the patio. It suited Grant as it was a hot and humid night. Jill insisted on a large cuba libre despite Grant’s warning that she had already drunk a lot of wine. The children ordered cokes, but had disappeared into the melee by the time Grant got back from the bar.

“Come on let’s dance,” said Jill pulling her husband to his feet. “It’s the Lambada.” She pushed her hips against him, threw her head back and laughed out loud.

“Come on Grant,” said Jill thrusting her knee between his legs, “You’re not partying.”

The fact was Grant was becoming embarrassed by his wife’s antics.

“Maybe we should sit this one out,” he said trying to steer her away from the dancefloor. But she was having none of it. Jill wanted to party. He managed to manoeuvre her back to the table and sat her in her chair.

“Is mum okay?” Emma had appeared from nowhere.

“She’s fine,” slurred Jill, “let’s party.”

“Let’s get her back to the apartment,” said Grant putting his arm around her waist and pulling her to her feet.

“Shush, not in front of the children,” giggled Jill.

“You stay here with your brothers and sister,” said Grant to Emma. “I’ll take mum back.”

He reached in to his pocket and pulled out a 50 euro note and gave it to his daughter. “That’s for drinks, I will not be long.”

“Grant, make love to me,” said Jill in a voice loud enough for people at the neighbouring tables to hear.

“Sure babe, let’s just get you home first, eh?”

A nearby table of young lads gave a loud cheer as Grant struggled past supporting his amorous wife.

“Lucky bugger,” he heard one say

Twice on the way back to the apartment Jill nearly had both of them in the large swimming pool when she staggered heavily sideways. He somehow managed to get her up the stairs and into the apartment and propped her up against the wall while he fumbled for the key. He took it out and fitted it into the latch just as Jill emptied the contents of her stomach over his back. He felt a warm stickiness penetrate the silk of his shirt and smelled the undeniable odour of fish as she wretched again.

“Ah shit,” he gasped. “What a bloody mess.”

It was too, down the wall and running into a pancake on the tiled floor.

He turned the key and opened the door and carried her across to the bathroom. He pulled the light switch and the extractor fan roared into life. For the first time he was grateful for it to dissipate the smell.

He unzipped the dress which earlier had looked so elegant and now looked so …stained. He pulled it from her shoulders like undressing a rag doll. The dress dropped to the floor. He reached into the shower and turned on the taps. It sprayed him with cold water. He waited while it ran warm. He removed her white lace bra, knelt down and removed her panties, momentarily glancing at the thick patch of curly pubic hair.

“Come on girl, get under the shower and let’s clean you up,” said Grant. “You’ll feel better after a shower.”

He left her while he cleaned up the sick. Grant returned to the shower, turned it off and wrapped a large towel around his wife.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked.

“Just a new head,” she replied.

He took her into one of the bedrooms and helped her into Emma’s bed and put the covers over her.

“I’m sorry Grant,” she said wearily, “never again.” Her words trailed off as she slipped into a deep sleep.

Grant went back to the bathroom, stripped and showered. He dried himself and put on a generous amount of Jean Paul to mask any lingering smells of vomit. He put on a pair of light green trousers and a yellow shirt. A quick inspection in the mirror and he headed back to the hotel.

The disco was in full swing. Most of the tables were empty because everyone was on the dance floor. He made his way to the bar and ordered a San Miguel. As he waited for the drink to be poured he flinched as a hand snaked around his waist. It was Sara.

“I’ll pay for that,” she said now moving to his side. “It’s the least a girl can do for her knight in shining armour.”

Grant looked at her and smiled. “I’m afraid my armour’s a bit rusty. And I will be expelled from the Round Table if I let a fair maiden buy me a drink.”

“I had you down for the Rotary rather than the Round Table,” joked Sara.

In fact he was a member of both.

“So what would this fair maiden like to drink?” said Grant carrying on the joke, “and don’t ask for anything stronger than a shandy.”

“A coke will be fine,” she replied.

“Anything in it, ice or lemon?” asked Grant.

“Tia Maria would be nice,” she laughed.

Grant was taking a sip of beer and gulped. Some of the beer went down the wrong way and he coughed and spluttered. Sara hit him hard on the back.

“Do you need the kiss of life?” she teased, her face full of mischief.

Grant caught his breath and composed himself. “Aren’t you a bit young for Tia Maria and coke?” he asked.

“I won’t be getting drunk, if that’s what you’re worried about,” said Sara, then added; “How is Jill? Sleeping it off?”

“She’s a bit under the weather,” said Grant defensively.

“Rat-arsed more like,” said Sara.

“And does your mother know you drink Tia Maria and Coke?” asked Grant.

“Course she does,” lied Sara, “as long as I stick to just the one.”

“And how many have you had tonight?” Grant asked.

“None yet,” she lied again. In fact she had drunk three.

“And a Tia Maria for the coke,” Grant said to the barman.

“Where shall we sit,” asked Sara, “on the patio?”

Grant followed her out. They sat down at a table. Grant forced himself to look into the young girl’s face and not at the vast expanse of thigh showing below her tight black mini-dress. She crossed her legs and the dress rode higher.

“So have you enjoyed your holiday Sara?” asked Grant, sipping his beer.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” she asked.

The directness of her question stunned Grant into silence. At business meetings when he was pitching for a new account he was never caught off guard.

“Well?” she said leaning forward. “You have been avoiding me, haven’t you?”

He looked up at her, magnetised by those soft green eyes.

“Look, this is ridiculous,” he said almost in a whisper. “To start with…”

“You’re old enough to be my father,” Sara again finished his sentence for him.

“But you are not my father and I am not your daughter and if I’m not mistaken, what you feel for me is nothing fatherly.”

He went to speak, but she put a finger to his lips.

“Let me finish, then you can say whatever you want. Tell me to get lost if that’s what you want. I fell in love with you the first night I saw you. I know you are married and I know there is a big age difference between us and I know you don’t think I know my own mind, but you are wrong. It’s not a schoolgirl crush. I love you and I want to be with you. I think about you all the time when I’m not with you. I cry myself to sleep thinking about you making love to your wife.”

Grant continued to stare down at the floor.

“After my father died I thought my world had come to an end. I was so wretched I didn’t want to go on living because I could see no future. Meeting you has changed all that. When I am with you I feel so alive again.”

She paused and took his hands in hers. He looked up into her face, into her moist eyes. He swallowed hard trying to remove the lump that had been swelling in his throat.

“Sara,” he began to say.

“Hi, dad!” said Emma “hi, Sara.” Sara was still conscious of the fact her hands were still clasped over Grants and quickly moved them away.

”It’s no good trying to drag him up on the dance floor,” Emma giggled. “He’s far too old to boogie.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Sara taking his hands once more. “I think there’s a bit more life left in the old dog yet. What do you say? Will you dance with me?”

She pulled him to his feet and led him onto the dance floor.

“What time do we have to be back at the apartment?” asked Emma.

“Midnight,” said Grant, as she became lost in the crowd.

The music changed tempo and Tina Turner gave way to Chris de Burgh. Sara wrapped her arms around Grant and pulled him close to her. His hands rested lightly on her back. She swayed like a piece of seaweed being washed by the surf. Grant could feel the heat from her groin pressed against him.

“I’m very flattered,” said Grant trying to hold his body away from her, “but you will go home tomorrow and forget about me. I bet there are dozens of boys your own age back home waiting for you.”

“Hundreds!” she said snuggling into his shoulder. “But that’s just it, they are all boys, out for what they can get.”

They continued dancing.

“The thing is,” Grant said philosophically, “losing your father when you did, you just see me as a substitute, a kind of surrogate dad.”

She stopped dancing and pulled away glaring at him.

“Well that’s funny,” she said. “So how comes I never wanted to fuck my dad?”

She turned and ran off the dance floor. Other couples who had been dancing nearby momentarily stopped and muttered something.

Grant called after her, but she was through the patio doors and running as fast as her tight dress would allow her.

Grant followed her, not running, but walking at a fast pace. When he got to the patio he saw her running out of the hotel gardens down the path towards the beach. He broke into a jog and caught up with her as the path deteriorated into scrub and sand. He caught her by the shoulder, but she shrugged him off.

“Leave me alone,” she sobbed. “Go back to your precious wife and kids.”

He caught her by the shoulders again. This time she made no move to pull away. He turned her around and she put her head on his chest. He held her gently until her sobs subsided. She raised her head and looked up. Her mascara had run giving her panda eyes. He gently supported her chin with his hand. His face lowered towards her. He could feel her hot breath as she reached up to greet him. Then his lips brushed hers in a gossamer embrace. The touch was electrifying. It lit a spark of dark urgency which dwelled within them both. Hungrily their lips crushed together as Grant pulled her to him. Her mouth opened and Grant searched for her sweet tongue with his. She responded in the same manner and the two of them stood there locked in a forbidden embrace completely unaware of the shadowy figure on the path. Her own eyes moistened with tears in the moonlight. Emma turned and ran back to the hotel.

They walked hand in hand along the beach at the water’s edge, star-crossed lovers wishing they had the world to themselves. They didn’t speak. There seemed no need for words. They walked until they reached the rocks at the side of the bay. Sara found a flat rock and sat down. Grant sat behind her and put his arms around her. She pulled her legs up to her chest as they watched the waves break on the beach.

“Will you make love to me?” asked Sara.

“I already have,” replied Grant, “over and over in my mind, a hundred times!”

She laughed, nervously.

“And was I any good?”

“You were a mermaid,” he said.

She turned and looked at him quizzically. He kissed her forehead.

“Make love to me now,” she said softly.

Grant took a deep breath and exhaled.

“No,” he said. “May God forgive me, but I think I love you too much.” He enveloped her with his strong tanned arms and kissed the hair on the top of her head.

“It’s time you went home.”

“Where do we go from here?” asked Sara getting to her feet.

“I don’t know,” sighed Grant. “I honestly don’t know.”

They joined hands and walked back the way they had come.

“Will I see you tomorrow?” asked Sara. “Can we have one last swim together?”

She reached up and kissed him briefly on the lips.

“Okay,” said Grant, “one last swim.”

She turned and ran off towards the apartments. Grant headed back to the hotel where he rounded up Tim, Ben and Sally. “Where’s Emma?” asked Grant.

“She’s in reception,” said Tim. “She’s in a right mood.”

“Well go and find her,” added Grant. “I don’t want her being her on her own.”

“No,” said a voice in his head. “You never know what might happen to her.”

When they all got back to the apartment Jill was still fast asleep in Emma’s bed.

“Looks like you’re lumbered with me again, Em,” joked Grant.

“I’d rather share with Sally,” said Emma coldly.

“Can’t stand the snoring, eh,” said Grant

“Something like that,” she replied. “Goodnight,” and brushed past him into the other bedroom.

“I told you she had the ump,” said Tim.

“Probably time of the month,” said Ben. Grant did a double take.

“You know,” added Ben. “End of the holiday.”