The Life We Almost Had. Amelia Henley

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СКАЧАТЬ the coach dropped us off at our hotel on the Spanish island of Alircia, it was nearly midnight but I still called Mum to let her know I’d arrived; she’d only worry otherwise.

      ‘We’re here.’ I tried to keep the sadness out of my voice but Mum heard it anyway.

      ‘It’ll get easier, Anna,’ she said, but I knew being alone hadn’t got easier for her. ‘Better with no one than the wrong one.’

      ‘I know.’ I did know. I’d accepted his proposal for myriad reasons: because of what I’d been through, was yet to go through, but none of them the right reason. The only reason.

      Love.

      I told Mum I’d speak to her soon. Nell and me hovered near the pots of exotic plants and flowers, waiting for the driver to empty the luggage hold; Nell plucked a bright pink bougainvillea and tucked it into my hair.

      ‘It’s so beautiful here,’ she exclaimed, but I barely registered the fairy lights twisted around the thick trunks of the palm trees that circled the pool. We wheeled our suitcases towards reception to check in. I was hot and exhausted. The gin I’d drunk earlier had left a residue on my tongue. A throbbing in my temples.

      ‘Check this out!’ Nell, typically, had abandoned her luggage and was sauntering into the bar. ‘Nightcap?’

      ‘I’m shattered.’ I was struggling with her case and mine. ‘I just want a shower and my bed.’

      ‘Spoilsport.’ She said it lightly but I felt a pang of guilt. I knew she’d used all her annual leave this year and had taken this time off unpaid to support me. The least I could do was let her have a drink.

      ‘I suppose because it’s all-inclusive it would be rude not to,’ I said.

      I stayed with our things, stifling a yawn and hoping Nell would order us shots as she sashayed to the bar. Instead of something we could knock back quickly, she returned with two glasses brimming with orange liquid and stuffed with pink parasols, cocktail sticks spearing glacé cherries.

      ‘I asked for something fun,’ she shouted over Madonna who was ‘True Blue’. What was it with Spain and their fascination with English Eighties music?

      I took a sip. ‘Jesus. We’ll sleep well after these.’

      ‘You think? I can only taste the orange. You’re such a lightweight. Hey, one o’clock.’

      ‘God, is it? No wonder I’m so tired.’

      ‘No. Look. At one o’clock.’ Nell jerked her head to her left. ‘He’s checking you out.’ I couldn’t help but look and when I did, I felt… I don’t know, a sense of déjà vu. Familiarity. He was tall, dark and awkward, sipping beer from a plastic cup, and alone. He seemed to be alone. He caught my eye and smiled. I turned away.

      ‘No boys, remember?’ I said to Nell.

      ‘I’ve you listed as being on your honeymoon?’ the young receptionist with jet black hair and bright white teeth asked.

      ‘Yes.’ Nell peered at his name tag. ‘Miguel.’ She draped an arm around my shoulders. ‘If we could have our key. My wife and I are eager to go to bed.’

      Pretending we were married was preferable to going into why I wasn’t and Nell knew I did have that terribly British urge to constantly explain myself, but the emotions that surfaced when I heard myself described as someone’s wife zapped the last of my energy. All of a sudden it all caught up with me. The journey, the alcohol, my lack of sleep. My vision darkened and my ears began to buzz. Wishing I could sit, I rested my head on Nell’s shoulder, lulled by the tap-tap-tap of Miguel’s keyboard as he checked us in, words drifting in and out of reach … breakfast… sun loungers… excursions.

      ‘Let’s go, darling.’ Nell dropped a kiss atop of my head. Simultaneously I straightened my neck and wiped my mouth for traces of drool before I thanked Miguel and forced my feet to move. I could feel eyes burning into my back as we headed outside where the air was still warm and chirruping crickets welcomed us to their island.

      The music grew fainter as we searched for our accommodation, using the scant light from the screens of our phones to make out the numbers on the whitewashed walls. Inflatable swans and flamingos rested on balconies, a signpost to the apartments with kids in them. Towels and swimwear dangled from retractable washing lines.

      Stars speckled the sky and through the blackness, to our right, the sound of the waves lapping against an unseen shore. The warm air smelled of the beach.

      ‘This is us,’ Nell said. She unlocked the door and flicked on the lights. ‘Oh God. I’m sorry, Anna.’

      I pushed past her, wanting to see what she saw. A ‘Just Married’ banner was strung across the lounge, rose petals scattered on the floor. On the coffee table, a bottle of champagne and two flutes.

      I was a bride without her husband. I began to cry.

      ‘Excuse me,’ a voice behind me said and I spun around, wiping my eyes.

      It was the boy from the bar.

      Adam. It was Adam.

Chapter Two

      Adam

      It was four days into the holiday and if I’m honest I was feeling pretty lonely. Josh had met a girl on day one and was spending much of his time massaging sun cream into her curves. She had a friend who smiled hopefully each time I caught her eye. She seemed nice enough, but holiday romances weren’t really my bag.

      ‘She’s offering it on a plate,’ Josh had said.

      But I needed some sort of connection. It all seemed so shallow otherwise.

      ‘Worse than a bloody woman.’ Josh checked his pocket for condoms again. As agreed, I vacated the room, heading towards the bar. I’d hardly spent any time with Josh since we arrived – this was supposed to be our last mates’ holiday before I launched myself into my new life – but I didn’t mind. Generally, I liked my own company.

      I was bored now though. I took another swig of beer – my fifth pint. It may be free but I had to drink twice as much as I did at home to get a slight buzz. The music was loud but that was okay, I didn’t have anyone to talk to; besides, I was a bit of a sucker for the Eighties – another thing Josh ribbed me about. If we’d met as adults I sometimes wondered if we’d have been friends at all, but Josh had been there for me during that awful time nine years ago and I don’t know who I’d be without him. Where I’d be. Despite his ‘don’t give a shit’ exterior, he was steadfast in his loyalty and like a brother to me, albeit sometimes an annoying brother. I was wondering whether to call it a night, whether he’d finished hogging our apartment, when I saw her.

      You know sometimes all the light in a room seems to attach to one person and they shine brighter than anyone else? That was her. Everything blurred into the background. I took in the cascade of thick, dark ringlets falling over her shoulders. Bright pink flower tucked behind her ear. Pale floaty dress skimming her ankles. She looked exactly like Star from The Lost Boys, one of my all-time favourite films.

       Star. СКАЧАТЬ