I nodded. How many times have I done that now? I don’t think I’ll ever be able to talk about it with strangers.
Vero filled the silence. ‘Still, I am happy for you now, that you and Prim are back together.’
‘I’ll bet you are.’ Mouth first; brain second. God, I gasped inwardly, What if she doesn’t know!
But she did. She looked at me, and then, for all her dark complexion, she blushed. ‘Ah, I am sorry. I didn’t mean that at all.’
‘No, I’m sorry; that was a stupid thing for me to say.’
She shot me a quick, awkward, grin. ‘It is true, though. Your wife is a very attractive lady, and my husband is a typical Spanish man. I am very pleased to see her married.’
‘That doesn’t always guarantee anything.’ No, I will never have a future in the diplomatic service; I’d forgotten the reason she and Fortunato were apart when he’d been shacked up with Prim.
She went an even deeper shade of red. ‘Shall I cut my tongue out?’ I asked her.
That quick, guilty smile showed again. ‘We do seem to know everything about each other, don’t we?’ she murmured. ‘And about our past lives.
‘I’ll tell you the truth, shall I? Ramon can do what he likes now, and it won’t break my heart. I have my son. That’s why I took him back.’ She sipped her wine. I don’t know if she realised that she was smiling.
‘When I heard from an indiscreet friend in the clinic about Prim being pregnant. .’ It was her turn for consternation as she realised that maybe I didn’t know.
‘It’s okay,’ I assured her.
‘I’m sorry that I mentioned it.’
‘It really is okay. I didn’t think anyone else knew, though.’
‘Remember where you are; L’Escala.’
‘True. Does Ramon. .?’ I began. At the time I wasn’t sure why I asked her that.
‘No. I’m sure he doesn’t.’ I breathed a little easier. ‘When I heard about it, though, I was jealous of her for the first time. I admit it. That wasn’t the only reason why I took Ramon back, but it was the main one. I agreed to patch things up and try again, then as soon as I could I had his child. Now? We’re happy enough, as you said.
‘Our separate affairs are well behind us now; there’s no old temptation in my way.’ She glanced across at Primavera who was standing near the television with my dad, arms linked. ‘Nor, I am happy to see is there in his.’
Her eyes caught mine again. ‘But what about you? Are you jealous of Ramon?’
‘He’s here tonight as my guest,’ I pointed out. ‘So no, I’m not.’ As if to emphasise it, I gave her the party line. ‘When it happened it was none of my business, and it still isn’t.’
I hadn’t been aware of moving, but now I realised that we had drifted into the further corner of the big room, away from any possible eavesdroppers. I realised also that talking to Vero Sanchez i Leclerc gave me a distinctly odd feeling. There was a degree of intimacy between us, the nature of which I’d never experienced before. We were in a room full of people, among them our spouses. . shouldn’t that plural be ‘spice’?. . and yet I felt furtive, as we stood there, quietly baring our souls to each other. To my surprise, I felt guilty too. I wondered about that, until a constriction within my jockey shorts told me exactly why.
Thank you, Alejandro, I almost said out loud as the baby’s cry came from upstairs. There’s nothing better than a howling baby for dismissing Mr Stiffy, especially if his mother caused him to creep up on you in the first place.
Ramon broke off from a group of Brits, leaving Frank Barnett in mid-joke. ‘We should go home now,’ his wife said as he approached.
‘Yes,’ Ramon agreed. Just at that moment, there was a commotion around the television. The gathering parted and I could see the floodlit shape of Edinburgh Castle. It was ‘Happy New Year’ time again.
18
However happy we all think we are on high days and holidays, there’s no door that we can step through to leave reality on the other side. (Well, actually, there is, but they don’t sell return tickets.) We were reminded of that eight and a half hours into the new year when the phone rang by the side of our bed.
‘If that’s my sister. .’ I heard Prim muttering drowsily as I floated back up to the surface. ‘Bitch. We agreed that I would call her tonight.’
She picked up the phone, and answered with a slightly threatening ‘Yes?’
About three seconds later her face changed. Her free hand went to her mouth in an instinctive gesture, and she frowned more deeply than I’d ever seen. She didn’t say much, just four more ‘yes’s, each one quieter than the one before. Finally she nodded, and murmured, ‘I’ll call you back when I’ve done that.’
I stared at her, waiting, as she replaced the receiver. ‘That was Miles,’ she told me; her voice was steady, but I could tell she was having to work at keeping it that way. ‘Mum’s in hospital, in Los Angeles. She perforated a stomach ulcer last night. They’ve operated and that’s no longer critical but, during surgery, they spotted some other lesions. They removed them and sent them for biopsy; the hospital’s path lab is closed because of the holiday, so it’ll be a couple of days before they can run tests.
‘But it could be malignant. Oz, Mum could have cancer.’ I was sitting up by this time; I took her hand and gave it a quick squeeze. I’ve seen Prim in a couple of crises, and in each one she was unbelievably strong. But this was different; this was her mother she was talking about. I drew her to me, feeling warm wet tears on my shoulder, feeling the tremors of her quiet sobbing. I knew what she was thinking. I’ve been there myself with my own mother, and there was no happy ending then, for sure.
It didn’t last long, only a minute or so, then she was back in control. She looked up at me, embarrassed as she dried her eyes with the back of her hand.
‘What did the surgeon say?’ I asked her.
‘According to Miles, he said there was a chance that the growths will turn out to be benign, but he wasn’t hopeful. That’s exactly what I’d expect from an American surgeon. Say or do nothing that you might be sued over later.’
I blew out a big sigh as I thought about what had happened. ‘Elanore Phillips, of all people,’ I murmured. ‘I can’t believe it. She’s always seemed unsinkable to me.’
Prim chuckled, throatily. ‘Like a galleon in full sail, flying battle flags. That’s how I’ve always seen her, at her best.’
‘I didn’t know she had an ulcer,’ I said.
‘Neither did she. But it doesn’t come as any surprise to me; she isn’t exactly a nouvelle cuisine chef.’
‘So how’s SuperDave?’
‘Dad’s okay. He’s with her at the hospital. She’s still in intensive care, but that’s normal, post-op.’
‘And Dawn?’
From the way she glanced at me; I knew the answer to that one. Prim’s sister is a lovely, incredibly talented girl, but no film director, not even her husband, will ever cast her as a vampire slayer.
‘Miles is worried about her. . worried about the baby, really, I suppose, although he’d never say that. He asked me if I’ll go over there to be with her.’
‘Of course you will. I’m coming too.’
Prim shook her head. ‘No, you’re not. You can’t run out on the boys and your dad.’
‘But Dave might need some support as well,’ I protested.
‘Miles is his son-in-law too. He’s there already. Anyway, my father’s a lot tougher than he looks.’
She bounced out of bed and stood, looking down at me. ‘So am I, for that matter. I can take care of Dawn and him, if necessary. Not that it will be; it’s entirely possible that these growths are just simple polyps, and that all Mum will have to cope with is recovery from her surgery.’
‘Yeah, sure, but what if. .?’
She cut me off. ‘In that unlikely event, they’ll throw the full arsenal of anti-cancer weaponry at her. They’ll scan her for metastases, then treat, or take preventive measures as appropriate. Even if she has got stomach cancer, the survival rates are better than in most other types.