Gwennie's Girl Read online

  When Lizzie was recovering and the house was being sold away from her, she did visit the village at the end of a meeting in Apia. She had been tired and dispirited. Helen left her to wander, swim and talk to the children who brought Lizzie bits of coral. In front of Helen’s home, which was at the edge of the sand, there was a fresh water spring so that after swimming, Lizzie could splash away the salt. She ate fresh raw, white fish marinated in coconut milk with onions and tomatoes. A young man brought her a coconut, topped open so she could drink easily and eat the soft, clear flesh. Then some of the other village women came to sit cross-legged in the shade and the breeze. They wore brightly flowered cotton wraps, and Lizzie had been presented with one to wear over her bathers and a flower was put behind her ear. As they talked, Lizzie could feel herself growing drowsy. One woman spread a mat. These people were famous throughout the Pacific for their weaving because some mats were as fine as linen and draped superbly. The women motioned to Lizzie to stretch out and rest, and it was hours later when she awoke to find them sitting in a circle all around her as if mounting guard or protecting her. She was covered with a cloth of sea green with huge yellow flowers and they had been the colours of Samoa for her ever since that healing sleep.

  Sam seemed to be healing for her too, and it was nice, for a while, to let someone do the looking after, the nurturing. When he returned, they put on their bathers and their dressing gowns and, barefoot, they padded along to the lift which took them down to the baths. They entered through a small room entirely tiled in white, with a clear fountain surrounded by tiles painted with curving vines and fleur-de-lis. On a shelf were piles of warm, soft towels. They showered quickly then stepped into the shallow passage of water that took them out through a heavy plastic opening so that by the time they were in the cold, open air, they were covered by the warm, scented water of the bath. The contrast of the temperatures was, literally, breath taking. In the distant were snow-capped mountains, and the day was pearl grey against the black figures of the watching winter trees. Yet, they could swim and watch the sky, even, sometimes, feel the rain or snow on their faces. They swam together slowly; only twenty minutes at a time was recommended.

  When Lizzie lazed on the underwater seat near the jets that massaged her back, Sam came in front of her, putting his arms either side so she was caught in the circle of him. He kissed her softly on the lips and then slid down to kiss her neck, shoulders and patted the “bump” that registered no physical sensation for Lizzie.

  ‘Hello, Booby,’ he said. ‘I’m quite fond of this little one, you know, Lizzie. She makes you less invincible, more vulnerable, not quite so “everything must be perfect”, madam, in control.’

  Lizzie was remembering a nurse who had said, ‘Bye. Bye, Booby.’

  ‘Why do you like me vulnerable, Sam?’ she asked. ‘Don’t you like me strong?’

  ‘I like you all ways, Lizzie,’ he said seriously, ‘but there is something appealing about vulnerability. You know, makes me feel like a caveman. Yaargs!’

  She was ducked under the water, and they came up together laughing and spluttering. He added seriously, ‘We all feel vulnerable sometimes, Lizzie, and it would be good to be able to share that feeling.’

  They swam again before dinner, each time stripping off, wrapping themselves in the warm towels and dressing gowns and wandering back to the suite. Sam had organised for a fire to be lit, and they lay together watching the flames until it was time to dress. Lizzie slowly washed and dried her hair, repaired her Chechnya damaged nails and put on a plain, long, white dress that was one of her favourites. Usually, she wore it with a blazer, for work dinners, but tonight she used a turquoise silk wrap she had bought in Delhi. She loved the sensuous touch of it on her bare shoulders. She seldom wore jewellery other than simple gold earrings. When she was ready, she swirled in front of Sam, laughing and looking for his approval, but he frowned and said, ‘It’s not quite right.’ She was disappointed and more than little surprised at his response and stood still watching as he went to his case.

  He took out a small grey velvet bag and said, ‘I think this is what you need.’ As he opened it, a strand of creamy, matched pearls slipped through his fingers and he came to Lizzie, turned her around and said, ‘Lift your hair.’ She did so, and he clipped them around her neck. ‘Now take a look at yourself, my girl,’ he said. ‘How do they look?’

  Lizzie was silent. She knew they were extremely beautiful pearls and it was an expensive gift, and she was more than a little confused as to what was implied if she accepted them.

  ‘Don’t you like them?’ Sam asked. He was sounding disappointed now.

  ‘Oh Sam, what’s not to like? They’re glorious, and I think every woman feels beautiful in pearls. It’s just that I’m not sure.’ Her voice trailed away as she tried to sort out her feelings.

  ‘They are a gift. Just a gift. No strings attached. I just wanted to give you something and I remembered you saying you loved pearls.’

  ‘Everyone loves pearls, Sam. Of course, I love them. But I never meant that you…’ Again, she didn’t know what she wanted to say.

  ‘Then, that’s settled. Now you look perfect. Come and let me show you off in that very elegant dining room up those very elegant staircases. We’ll talk some more tomorrow. Are you hungry?’

  So Lizzie wore the pearls and put off thinking about them until the next morning. They breakfasted in front of the fire, swam again and returned to the fire. They read the International Herald Tribune, taking turns swapping pages and did the crossword together.

  Then Sam said, ‘OK, Lizzie, how about it?’

  ‘How about what?’ countered Lizzie.

  ‘You know what. How about coming to Thailand with me?’

  ‘Sam, that would mean giving up my job, giving up my apartment, giving up my independence. It’s a lot. I just don’t know if I can.’

  ‘You can, easily, Lizzie. The question is do you want to be with me? Do you want to do it?’

  ‘Sam, if I answer honestly; do I want to give up my job and everything? The answer is no. Do I want to be with you? Yes, I think I’d like that, I think I would. But it’s tough, Sam, it’s tough.’

  ‘Lizzie, we are not youngsters. Why not do it now? You’ve known me for a long time. You’ll love Bangkok. Let’s share the next adventure together.’

  ‘Sam, I don’t really know much about you, about your past or anything much other than the potted life histories we’ve exchanged. You don’t know what I can be like when I feel threatened.’

  ‘You would not be threatened, Lizzie. You will still be you—just you with me. There is nothing much more to know about me. You know me. You know how I feel about you. I love you, Lizzie. I want you with me.’

  ‘But what would I do?’ she asked.

  ‘You could relax, take it easy, get used to Asia. You’ll pick up freelance writing jobs. You can write your novel.’

  ‘Oh Sam, millions of divorcees write novels. Very few of them get published.’

  ‘You’ll find work.’

  ‘But, I don’t think I’d find another job like mine, again. At my age, if I drop out of the loop, I may never get back into it again. And what would I do financially?’

  ‘What do you mean? At your age? We may not be youngsters but we are not exactly over the hill, woman. Of course, with your CV, you’ll get work. We’ll live together. We’ll be fine financially,’ said Sam.

  ‘But, I don’t know, what if it didn’t work out? What if you decided to kick me out? What would I do if I couldn’t get work?’

  ‘Lizzie, I’m not going to kick you out. I want you. You might decide to kick me out but please don’t plan it.’

  ‘I can’t just stop working, Sam,’ she explained.

  ‘Lizzie, can you take a chance on me?’

  ‘Sam, did you hear me? I can’t do it. I am too scared.’

  ‘Come on, girl, where’s your spirit of adventure? You’re always taking chances. Take one on me. Come to Asia.’
r />   ‘Sam, it’s just not realistic. I admit that, particularly at the moment, I’d love to just throw everything to the wind, but I can’t. I have to protect myself.’

  ‘Lizzie, what would be so scary about us, as a partnership, together?’

  ‘I have to think about practical things. I’d have no job, no place to live; I could end up completely dependent. What sort of partnership would that be? Oh, shit, Sam it’s just all too complicated. Can’t we go on as we are? We’ll see each other pretty often with both of us travelling. We can take our holidays together.’

  ‘I want more than holidays,’ he said.

  ‘Is there any chance you could transfer back to Europe?’ Lizzie asked.

  ‘No, I don’t want to transfer back. I understand you don’t want to leave here too but it could be great for us both, Lizzie.’

  ‘All my instinct says “no”, Sam.’

  ‘Your instinct is based on fear, on what’s happened to you before. This is me. I’m not going to hurt you; I love you, Lizzie.’

  ‘Oh help. It’s all too difficult. Can’t we think about it for a while?’

  ‘We’ve been thinking about it for months. You know we have, Lizzie. Really, my darling girl, why not just do it?’

  ‘I don’t know, I don’t know.’

  ‘I’ll look after you, Lizzie.’

  ‘But what if you don’t, Sam? What if I can’t look after myself after then? Where would I be? I would be in shit, in shit, is where I would be.’

  ‘You would not be giving anything up, Lizzie. Just another adventure…together.’

  She looked at him and thought of all the caring and nurturing, all the easiness of being looked after and loved. It was seductive to know she was wanted and loved. But she loved her job—most of the time. She loved her apartment, her independence, her freedom.

  Yes, I know “Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose”.

  Was she just being a coward? Was she too scared to take a chance on being happy with a man, again? Oh bugger, why did she have to make this choice?

  ‘Because I love you and I think you love me.’

  ‘Yes, Sam. I guess I know you do.’

  ‘I won’t hurt you, Lizzie. Trust me.’

  Somewhere, in the back of her mind, warning bells rang out at the old “trust me” line. But this was Sam. Couldn’t she trust him?

  ‘Where’s the line between trust and gullibility, girl?’ a voice from the past insisted.

  She didn’t know. She didn’t know. Would she be just another gullible woman? Was she a coward? Why hadn’t she gone with Ahmed? Could this be a great adventure, living with Sam? Was she game enough to believe him? Could she give up her job, her security and trust him? Would Gwennie do it? Would Nanna do it? She knew those were stupid questions because she knew the answer either of those women would have given.

  ‘Oh hell, why not?’

  So she did.

  So she did.