On the Terrace

On the Terrace

  A short story

  By Christine Brand

  Copyright 2014 Christine Brand

  Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy from their favourite authorised retailer. Thank you for your support.

  The lady in red I decided to call Scarlet. She wore a rather revealing number; short, tight, and with a deep V at the neck. Her stiletto heels were black, to match the tiny handbag she clutched as she sashayed onto the terrace. Her blonde hair was piled on the top of her head, not perfectly, but in this heat, nobody managed to stay perfect for long. It was her good fortune that she was beautiful without being made up, as those who cover their not yet tanned faces with make-up, smear it wiping away the sweat. Not Scarlet; her lack of care to her appearance made up for the ill-advised wardrobe she wore. This was the first evening they had come to the bar, and sat on the terrace. The man with her was of average height, average colouring, average everything probably. He had removed his jacket immediately they walked out of the door, grumbling under his breath. They reached the canopied area and he sat down, slinging his jacket over a spare chair, and loosening his tie. Scarlet walked to the railing and stared out across the water to the island visible on the horizon. She leant over and looked down towards the entrance to the hotel, and for a moment she watched someone below. Abruptly she turned and smiled at Jacket Man. She walked over and sat opposite him, giving him an inquiring look.

  “I ordered you a white wine, whatever’s local,” Jacket says, looking bored and glancing around the almost empty terrace. He taps his fingers on the table, waiting for the drinks to come.

  “Okay,” Scarlet replies, taking a small mirror from her handbag and checking the tendrils of hair that escape from her coiffure. She smiles again at Jacket Man and nudges him gently under the table with her foot. “Do try to relax; we are on holiday after all, darling.”

  Jacket summoned up a small grin and nodded, looking at his undoubtedly expensive watch. “Sorry sweetpea, I forgot we were on holiday. The heat, the sun, the expensive prices…”

  “Now, now, you’re not paying the bills so why worry? Ah here we are.” This last as the distinctly Italian waiter arrives with a tray carrying a glass of white wine and a beer. Condensation covers the glasses and Scarlet runs her finger down the glass, leaving a wavy line. Jacket murmurs “Grazie,” and the waiter bows and returns to the bar.

  “Of course I forgot to add foreigners to the list…” He tails off as a harassed looking woman comes onto the terrace, carrying many bags of shopping and trailed by two children, shoving each other as usual.

  I had considered calling her Bag Lady when I first saw the woman, and as she came in every evening laden with souvenirs, clothes, toys and God knows what, it would be appropriate, but I could not reconcile this woman with such a grubby sounding label. She was pretty, in a tired sort of way, long medium brown hair, tied in a neat ponytail at the nape of her neck. Today she was wearing a blue top and beige shorts, her pale legs standing out against the vivid colours of the crowd of shopping bags. She was not old, but looked slightly worn, as if the two children had drained the youth right out of her. I imagined who she might have been ten years ago, before Sulky and Little Monster came along. She would have been carefree I imagine, young, and possibly part of a large family, certainly not ‘well to do’. Of course, I was basing most of this on her accent as she called out to her offspring. For of that fact I was certain. Monster could have been a carbon copy of what Seta Verde (for that was the name I had settled on) had been when she was nine years old. Sulky looked more like a cross breed, half Seta Verde and half some unknown quantity, possibly European, possibly even Italian. He had started to tan on their first day here, when the others were still turning pink.

  Seta Verde was sorting through her shopping bags when the waiter approached. “Two lemon sodas and a glass of rosé, per favore.” She returned to looking in one of the bags and removed some postcards. Searching in her handbag, she found a pen and started to write addresses onto the cards.

  Jacket Man is frowning at his watch again. Scarlet rolls her eyes, “darling, we have another twenty minutes before the taxi is booked. Stop worrying about everything. You’ll get ill if you don’t start to enjoy yourself.” Scarlet stretches out her legs and crosses her slender ankles, leaning back in her chair and arranging herself like a photographer’s model. “Watch me, I’ll soon show you how to loosen up!” She laughs.

  Seta Verde and the children have been here longer than the other guests have, seven days. The first time I saw Seta Verde without the children she was wearing a beautiful, but conservative, green silk dress that changed her from a possible Bag Lady into a stunning vision, easily a rival to Scarlet, and certainly ‘Green Dress’ would not have done justice to her. On the second day after dinner, she left Sulky and Monster watching a DVD after dinner and spent a happy hour reading a spy novel and observing the boats on the water below. The peace was shattered however, when Monster ran out howling that Sulky had refused to share the pick ‘n’ mix with her and had locked her out of the room. This put an end to evenings alone, and added another few lines to Seta Verde’s brow.

  She sets her pen down on the table and takes a sip of wine. Calling the children over, she instructs them to write on the card for Nanny and Granddad, and asks if they want to send any themselves.

  “Who to?” Sulky says, sulkily. Then Monster chips in, “Can I have three please Mum? I need to send one to Cara and one to Olive and lots to Edina! Edina needs to hear everything I’ve done! Edina went to Egypt for her holiday, but her dad got a really bad tummy and they had to do everything without him, but she sent me three postcards, and one had a pyramid on it!”

  Seta Verde rummages in another bag and produces some more cards. Laying about eight cards picture side up on the table, Seta Verde gestures for Monster to choose some. Monster pores over them unable to decide. Sulky, having added his scrawl to the proffered postcard, wanders off again to fiddle with the leaves of a lemon tree in a pot.

  Scarlet and Jacket Man stand up, Jacket placing his jacket over his right arm, and offering his left to Scarlet. She takes his arm and they walk together into the hotel and wait by the lifts.

  As if to replace them, Leonardo walks out from the door to the bar carrying a glass of beer and his large notebook. Leonardo has been here three days now, and I have yet to see him without the notebook. He seems as happy in his own company as I am. The first day I saw him, he sat at the table next to mine, perhaps sensing that I had no wish to converse with him, or anyone. Technical looking diagrams and calculations fill Leonardo’s notebook, hence the appellation. Tonight Leonardo has taken the table next to Seta Verde, and I wonder if it is deliberate. If not, he will not be pleased to have the squabbling children so close.

  Monster chooses three cards, collects the rest up neatly, and hands them back. She takes the cards and pen furtively to a table far away; no doubt forgetting her mother will read them all before she posts them. Sulky is kicking the wall beneath the railing gently but relentlessly as he stares out across the world below. He seems troubled, but maybe lonely is more accurate. I find myself sympathetic to an eleven-year-old boy, on holiday with two females, with so few other children here. Most of the children do not come out on the terrace, they are much younger, but I think Monster has made some friends.

  The waiter comes to take my teacup, and I ask for another. He nods and returns shortly with a cup of hot water and a selection of varieties of tea. He has learnt to bring a small jug
of milk also, and not to offer me lemon. Leonardo is scribbling across his notebook, and I notice he is left handed – sinister maybe? I get the impression he would be writing on his napkin or even the tablecloth if he had no paper to hand. He stops to take a sip of beer, and stretches both arms up and backwards before hunching over the table again and resuming his drawing. I notice he is well muscled, and quite good-looking, although his hair is a little long for my taste. He has a friendly face, although he does not talk to people much.

  Seta Verde is smiling and sipping wine as she relaxes with closed eyes. Sulky is wandering through the tables, looking lost and a bit unimportant. Monster has finished her writing and she makes her way back towards her mother with her postcards. As she comes level with Sulky he sticks his foot out and Monster falls quite heavily onto one knee. Seta Verde jumps up as she lets out a shriek of pain.

  I can see the blood on Monsters knee as Leonardo leaps to the rescue with a napkin in his hand. “Do not cry little girl! Accidents happen sometimes, you must be strong.”

  However, I know it was no accident and Sulky catches my eye briefly and looks away. He knows I know. Seta Verde helps Monster to her feet as Leonardo picks up the postcards. One is creased across the middle and now that Monster sees this she forgets about her bloody knee and cries for the postcard to Edina instead.

  “Edina will never know,” Seta Verde says as she smoothes the card out, “She will just think it got bent at the post office.” Nevertheless, Monster demands a new card and her mother gives her one. Leonardo stands awkwardly and Seta Verde seems suddenly shy.

  “Thank you,” she says, looking down at her feet.

  “No problem,” He says, also looking down at the floor.

  “Can I buy you a drink? Please,” Seta Verde smiles at Leonardo, and he smiles back.

  “No, please, let me buy you one, all of you,” he says expanding his gaze to take in Monster and Sulky, who are looking at their mother somewhat curiously. Leonardo raises a hand to stop any protest and walks into the bar before Seta Verde has the chance to object. When he returns Sulky asks for some paper, please, and he and Monster take their drinks to a far away table where they play hangman, and whisper cautiously, casting sidelong glances at Leonardo and their mother.

  Carietta enters the bar from the hotel door. The waiter hurries out to take her order as she chooses a table. Everyone seems to stick to a particular drink here, and I know Carietta will order coffee, black.

  She orders as predicted, and settles back in her chair, Stephen Kings “Salem’s Lot” in her hand. The first night it was “Carrie” and I wonder if she intends to read the whole lot from start to finish, and if so, is “The Shining” next, or “Rage”? She wears a wedding band but is here on her own, and I wonder if she is widowed.

  Monster and Sulky have a newfound alliance in working out what is going on with Leonardo and Seta Verde, and they look more like brother and sister than I have seen them so far. I smile. Leonardo has closed his notebook and moved to sit at Seta Verde’s table. She is showing him a dress she has bought today, and he feels the material appreciatively, nodding his head. They are talking too quietly for me to hear, but it looks as if he has asked her out to dinner. She shakes her head looking over at the children, and I think he includes them in the invitation as Seta Verde accepts with a smile. She calls the children over, and collecting the shopping, they enter the hotel to get ready for dinner.

  This is the first time, I think, that Leonardo has sat with his notebook closed. The waiter comes out to clear the tables and we both rise to return to our rooms to freshen up before dinner.