ago when she came into his agency to book a singles holiday in Fuerteventura. She had been passing through – she was a traveller for a pharmaceutical company and was a formidable woman in many ways, not least in size. She was wearing an ill-fitting tight grey trouser suit (that made the word ‘haunches’ spring unexpectedly into his mind) and was enveloped in a choking fog composed equally of Elnett hairspray and Dior Poison. After Andy had secured the booking and taken the deposit he’d said, ‘A gorgeous woman like you shouldn’t be single.’ Rhoda had laughed dismissively at him in the same way that the girls at school used to. Then she picked up her heavy black case of samples and got back in her company car. Nonetheless his chat-up line must have had some effect because a year later they were on honeymoon in a hotel in Crete that he’d secured a great trade discount on.
Rhoda had been living in Luton (‘a hell-hole’) at the time, but was from Filey originally and was relieved to move back to the East Coast. The magnetic pull of the North. ‘Like a spawning salmon,’ Rhoda said. ‘Except I’m not going to actually spawn. God forbid.’ It was a second marriage for them both and Rhoda hadn’t wanted children. ‘I think that ship has sailed anyway,’ she said, without any sign of regret. Andy did sometimes wonder what fatherhood would be like – seeing his own DNA blossom in a child. But then, he thought, perhaps the world was better off without another Andy Bragg in it.
Instead of a child they had a dog, a Newfoundland called Lottie who was as big as a pony and featured on their website as if she was one of the attractions of the Seashell, yet she remained stoically indifferent to guests. Andy and Rhoda projected a variety of emotions on to her, although in fact her expression – a kind of resolute blankness – never changed. Andy thought it was a shame she didn’t play poker. She tended to block your path, like a large, impassive piece of furniture. In some ways Lottie reminded Andy of his wife.
Rhoda knew her own mind, it was one of her best features. Also one of her worst, of course. She was determined to make the Seashell a success, even if she had to drug the passing trade and drag them through the doors. Like a tiger with prey, Andy thought.
The front door was locked by the time Andy got home – residents had a key. It took him several minutes to find his own key and a few drunken attempts before he managed to get it in the lock. There was no way he was going to ring the bell and get Rhoda out of bed – she was a nightmare if her sleep was disturbed. She was a lark, not an owl, she said. The differences between Rhoda and a lark were too great to contemplate.
Finally he managed to get inside, not before tripping over the giant spider conch that was acting as a doorstop for the inner porch door.
He passed the open door of the dining room where everything was neatly laid out for tomorrow’s breakfasts. Little individual jars of ketchup and jams that were expensive and wasteful, but that’s what defined ‘luxury’, apparently. High season and only three of the seven bedrooms were occupied. It was amazing what one poor review on TripAdvisor could do.
He had to negotiate his way round Lottie, who was sleeping soundly on the landing, before he could tiptoe up to the attic room that served as the office for Exotic Travel. He paused on the threshold and listened to make sure that Rhoda wasn’t stirring in the room beneath. He switched on his computer. He logged on. The screen was the only light in the room and he stared at it for a long time before typing in a website address. It wasn’t the kind of website you could find on Google.
Crystal had been having a fly cigarette on the doorstep when she heard the sound of a car turning into the driveway. Squinting into the darkness, she felt a little flutter of fear. Was it the silver BMW?
The motion-sensor lights that lined the drive were suddenly activated and she could see that it was only a local taxi approaching – Tommy home from the Belvedere. ‘Fig,’ she muttered, grinding out the cigarette beneath her foot.