Page 79 of The Little Island Flower Stall
Bella pushed some coleslaw around her plate, feeling oddly deflated and redundant. She was still angry at the possibility that Rory had been lying to her, but not as angry as she’d been when she’d first put the phone down on the mystery woman. It wasn’t only about him, though. For the past few weeks she’d been full of purpose, as excited to be on his journey of discovery as he was. It had been a wonderful distraction from her own troubles. Now it was all over, life seemed dull and exhausting once more. She still had her divorce to work through, not to mention how she was going to start her life all over again, and as things stood now, it was hard to see a single bright spot in her future.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said after a moment. ‘Do you mind if I put this in the fridge for later? I’m not really hungry.’
‘I hope you’re not going to make yourself ill over this.’
‘Don’t worry – no man is worth that. I think I’ll go for a walk to clear my head. I’ll be fine when I get back.’
Bella buttoned up her coat, the breeze from the sea giving her goosebumps. Beyond the lights of the promenade were the soft dunes standing sentry on the beach, wild grass woven into them, and further still the black vastness of a dark ocean, pinpricks of yellow light marking out a boat here and there. After all the excitement and noise of the previous couple of days, St Rosa and its seafront seemed eerily quiet. Summer was coming, but the evenings were cooler, and today Bella had noticed a more obvious temperature drop. By the time the scorching weather arrived, she’d be back in Shrewsbury.
She’d grown calmer sitting here on the sand, with the waves beating a hushed rhythm against the shore, reflecting on what had passed between her and Rory. She’d decided there was no point in being angry with him. There was no point in being angry with herself either, for that matter. She’d done whatshe’d done in the heat of the moment, and despite his obvious flirting, despite him so often seeking out her company, he hadn’t asked her to kiss him. He hadn’t asked her for anything she hadn’t been willing to give. She’d told him how it was, and he’d respected that.
Yes, he was covering something up. She still didn’t know what, but that much was clear. She hadn’t the right to be angry about that either when she’d never taken the time to dig deeper into the facts of his life, though she couldn’t help but feel betrayed. After all, she’d been open with him, and he ought to have done the same with her.
She watched, lost in thought as a boat crossed her field of vision, heading towards the harbour. A fishing boat? They were often the only ones out after dark. Maybe it was Kelvin’s, Celestine’s friend.
Bella shook her head with a small smile. Kelvin? There were many more people with boats on Jersey – why would it be him? Perhaps her mind had gone there because he was one of the first people she’d met after she’d arrived and he’d seemed kind – he’d certainly been kind to Celestine. Why couldn’t Bella find a man like that? Uncomplicated, honest, kind…It wasn’t much to ask, was it? Had she really been such a bad person that she deserved such terrible karma?
Seized by a sudden impetuousness, she got to her feet. Driftwood View – that was Rory’s hotel, wasn’t it? She was sure he’d mentioned it at some point, though she’d never been back there with him. With a sense of irony, she realised why that was probably the case. Of course he wouldn’t have taken her to his hotel if there’d been a spouse waiting there for him. Although, that still didn’t entirely add up. Why would she simply sit in the hotel waiting for him? Why had he been roaming the island alone? Wouldn’t she have been with him?
As Bella started to march across the sand, opening the map function on her phone to locate the hotel, she wondered if Celestine might have a point. Why was this the first she’d heard of the mystery woman who’d answered the phone?
Fifteen minutes later, the hotel came into view. It was set back from the promenade, further along the sweep of the bay than Celestine’s flower stall. It was grand – a bit ostentatious, Bella felt – with faux gothic architecture and heavy velvet drapes at the windows. The first stars were now in the sky, and the hotel was lit yellow from within. Bella took the entrance steps and pushed on the heavy double doors to find herself in a carpeted lobby. Before her courage could desert her, she strode to the reception desk. The boy working on there couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen and, as she made her request, Bella suddenly felt stupid.
‘I wonder if you could tell me if you have a man by the name of Rory staying here.’
‘I’m not allowed to give that information out. Sorry.’
‘Right…I only want to get a message to him.’
‘I could pass one on.’
Him passing a message on would be telling Bella he was here, but she wasn’t about to point that out. ‘I’d appreciate that.’
‘So what’s his surname?’
‘Oh…’ Bella flushed. ‘Hang on…’
He’d told her but only once in passing, and she’d clean forgotten. How stupid, now that she thought about it. She’d gone and fallen for a man whose name she didn’t even know! They’d shared so much of their lives and yet she didn’t have that. It was like she’d been hypnotised or something by him all along.
‘I can’t do much without it,’ the boy at reception said. He sounded as if he wanted her gone.
‘Can’t you just see if there’s a Rory on your list of guests? I mean, it’s not a very common name, is it?’
‘Not really.’
‘I only want you to call up and tell him Bella is here and ask if he can come and speak to me.’
‘Without more information, I’m afraid I can’t.’
Bella huffed, tried to come up with a convincing argument and then decided there was no point. She could hardly blame the receptionist. She must have sounded ridiculous – she’d have acted in the same way had the tables been turned.
‘Thanks,’ she said, hurrying to the entrance, her mind filled with questions of her next step.
Outside, the moon had risen and was casting a pearly gleam on the calm of the ocean beyond the beach. Aside from the gentle rise and fall of the waves and the distant traffic away from the promenade, the street was quiet. There were a few souls wandering its pavements sharing murmured conversations and the odd sporadic burst of laughter, but it seemed dead compared to the feverish noise and excitement of the Liberation Day parade only the day before.
Had it really only been twenty-four hours? So much had happened since then it felt as if it ought to be years ago.
Bella crossed the promenade to walk closer to the beach. She let the sound of the waves breaking on the sand reassure her. In and out, always the same, like a constant heartbeat, somehow regulating her own, calming her.
