An Authentic Life, page 10
Now she sneaks a look at Wendy and Michelle as they stand waist deep talking to each other. Wendy is tall and her shape classically pear-shaped. Joanna can see that she is attracting a few glances from white skinned British lads over to the right of them. Michelle is tiny beside her, thin and short and almost Piaf-like in her darkness. Her body hair is still dramatically dark, whilst Wendy is almost orange to match her auburn head.
Joanna rolls onto her front to watch them, comfortable now to do so and knowing that the ease has returned to the five of them. They will picnic soon, all women together but with some unspoken adjustments to be made all round to this new experience.
‘I bet no one ventures to stroll naked round the apartments and that this is kept strictly for the beach,’ she thinks to herself with a grin.
But she braves it. She stands up, thanking God that she went on that diet, and makes the twenty yards or so to the water, hoping that the others are not paying attention. She plunges under the water, the cold easier to cope with than the thought of Geraldine and Bobby looking at her from base camp. As the chill eases, she turns over onto her back and kicks the water, letting the chill give way to something more akin to comfortable. A shriek of ‘watch out’ makes her spin round but she is too late for Michelle’s warning. Wendy is pounding through the waves towards her, intent on mischief and she arrives at Joanna’s side to rise out of the water and to dunk her friend under. In the flesh of hands and feet and flailing arms, Joanna seethes with embarrassment but suddenly calms and laughs to herself. This is fun. It is innocent, uninhibited fun and she is part of it. She has concealed her discomfort – or else Wendy would not be playing like this, egged on now by Michelle and cheered from the sand by the other two. This is fun and she is enjoying it. They are like teenagers right now, carefree, easy teenagers. It is as if she is finding with these friends the experience of teenage that she could never have had when she really was a youngster.
By the time she has retaliated and Michelle has helped her to dunk Wendy, the others are in the water and they are churning up a sea storm as they play and pull at each other. Somewhere in all this, she registers the strong, firm shape of forty-five year old Geraldine with her firm, good-sized breasts and slim waist. Brunette, her hair shines dark and thick still, no signs as yet of change of life affecting her athletic body. The boisterous play lasts for a good while till they are exhausted. Even Bobby seems to discard her serious personality and soaks her short, chubby body without inhibition. They do not know it as it happens, but this will be remembered as one of the highlights of the holiday. Eventually, they are all back-flipping and letting the waves of the in-coming tide float them slowly back towards the shore.
They come out of the water, laughing and jostling each other, hungry for the cheese and bottled water they have for lunch and all but oblivious to the stares of the Brits to their left. The people from the Continent, Germans and Spanish mainly, are unconcerned. They are used to nudity and fun in the sun. It is a good day.
She dozes in the afternoon, whilst the others do the same or walk the beach - in bikinis for this - or read from the novels they have brought with them. It is a drifting, quiet time, little said, little to say. Towards five, Bobby suggests it is time to head back - there are baths to enjoy, clothes to rinse out, drinks to pour and plans to make for the next day before the big decision is taken – where to eat tonight. Bobby is organising well. And they are not reluctant to follow her advice since they are getting tired of the sun and relishing the thought of baths and showers. They dress into shorts and tops and struggle up the cliff path to the bar at the top of Papagaya Bay. Bobby will drive so the others can have a beer each. It is a good half hour, with little said, while they sit people watching as others begin to drift from the beach. They watch incredulously and with hoots of disapproving laughter as, below them, a man on his own, who has chosen a particularly exhibitionist posture to lie in - lying on his front with his legs full apart to the view of the passing bathers - brings his naked presence centre stage by getting up and strolling the length of the beach. He stands, hands on hips in apparent casual mode, talking to children as they fish with nets and talking to the boatmen amongst a crowd of dressed tourists brought in by schooner. In the whole day, it is the only distasteful moment of bad behaviour and he stands out, not for his nakedness and his apparel, but for the fact that people generally seem to be aware of him and to be taking avoiding action.
There is a heated debate in the jeep on the fast road back to Puerto del Carmen about whether beaches for naturists should be open to children. Views vary, but they conclude that it is parents’ responsibility to decide and to protect. And in truth, Michelle points out in a loud voice over the noise of the wind in their ears, parents on Papagayo beach were wise to the nude and his behaviour and they were discreetly heralding their children away.
“I don’t know about you,” Joanna quips. “I could do this nude bathing business today with you lot. But no way would I have been on that beach with Jeremy and Daniel.”
Wendy laughs. “My kids would always refuse to take their kit off when they were on holiday with us. We did, but they were the archetypical Brits on the beach. In fact, the funniest thing was when Benny was twelve. He fell over, fully dressed, and grazed his knees because he was too busy having a good look at everyone else to watch where he was going.”
They laughed at the thought of the young Benny doing just that. He is a young man now, well aware of the ways of the world. He would be the first to discard his clothes these days.
So the conversation piles on, comment on top of comment, as they drive and look about them at white villages and fields of lava where, incredibly, vines grow. Joanna is thinking about Lou and that man on the beach. There is no way to describe what she would do to any man who showed even the hint of inappropriate interest in her treasure.
They arrive back at the apartments, feeling sticky from the heat, the sand and the sea. The next couple of hours drift as they have done each evening of the holiday. There are baths to have, calls to family to make, lazy conversations to hold and clothes to sort for the evening ahead.
They meet towards eight for drinks on the patio to Joanna’s apartment. The venue for tonight’s meal may be Tanzi’s Italian restaurant. This is where they ate last night and the food was good, the drinks flowed and the waiters were more than attentive to the women. This was also where Joanna earned herself the nickname of Shirley Valentine, when the manager of the restaurant made a clear play for her, plied the table with free liqueurs at the end of the meal and offered to take the party deep sea fishing on his boat which he keeps at the marina along the coast. Joanna, in reality, paid little attention to the man and his offers, seeing them for what they were, but she was conscious today, lying on the beach, of the sexual thoughts that drifted through her head. The Italian is a big man and she yearns sometimes for the weight of a man on top of her, and the grinding thrust of a man inside her. She has not had a sexual partner for all the months since Stephen died. Lust was awakened last night and it was the bravado of the late night drinking back at the apartments that led her to suggest going back to Tanzi’s tonight. Bobby and Michelle egged her on and now, on the patio, the two are only slightly ashamed of their behaviour and they offer to head to the harbour instead of along the tourist strip of restaurants for the evening meal. Geraldine is serious, suggesting that a quiet evening would be a really good plan, and her tone seems slightly reproachful of the other women’s teasing of Joanna. She is watchful and somehow protective, saying little and letting the events of the evening unfold. But Joanna is very aware of Geraldine’s eyes on her.
As if challenged in some way, Joanna feels she wants to shake off this scrutiny and some perverse devilment in her comes to the fore.
“Let’s hit the Strip,” she laughs, referring to the new part of the town with its shops and restaurants bordering the sea. She intends to go to Tanzi’s. She gets up from her plastic chair and downs the dregs of her gin. “I’m starving,” she states, her tone one of bravado.
This brings knowing hoots of laughter, albeit a more cautious laugh from Geraldine, and they are soon in a couple of taxis and heading to the restaurant.
It is already crowded when they get there, the familiar smell of seafood, olive oil and garlic wafting around them as they stand and wait to be seated. Bobby is at the head of their little queue, and the waiter who approaches them recognises them from the night before. They are seated at a table open to the street, and are plied with menus, bread and water. They choose wines tonight rather than more gin, and Joanna makes a mental note that she will need to keep drinking water if it is not all going to go to her head. She cannot help but look around to see whether the manager is about his business tonight. He is. She spots him behind the bar, where he is opening bottles and sending waiters around the tables with laden trays. She is still in kamikaze mood.
They are well into their main course of large prawns, pasta and salad, before he acknowledges them. Laughter is spilling over from their table to the tables around, and Bobby is smiling but from time to time pleading quietly for a bit of reduction in the decibels from their company. But this is holiday land and the people around them are in good humour themselves and not paying any special attention to them. Antonio, for so it transpired is his name, hovers now at the table, smiling at them all in general and at Joanna in particular. He has to shout to make himself heard. Have they had a good day? They would have looked ‘bellissima’ at Papagayo. Are they enjoying the meal? It is good to see them all back this evening. He will come back to talk later in the evening. He leaves with a particular smile at Joanna, one that they all see.
“I think,” Michelle laughs, “That it’s you he thinks would have been beautiful to behold on the beach, Joanna. You are all right for later on, my girl.”
Geraldine just watches. Joanna is not feeling so full of bravado now and the thought of more of Antonio’s company and attention is suddenly not so amusing. She sits, fleeting thoughts of all the indignities of a holiday fling overwhelming her; all that groping with an unfamiliar body; all that disarray of discarded clothes; all that empty passion and ensuing tristesse after lust is satisfied; all the embarrassment there would be when she got back to the apartment; all the ribald remarks she would have to endure from the Gang; all the hope that nothing would come out to the children back home. No. Suddenly she is sober and this is all too much. She looks to Bobby to get her out of here without disrupting the evening for everyone. They rank round her. They finish the main course.
“I know,” Wendy suggests, “let’s get the bill, stroll along to the nearest café bar and have coffee and ices there.”
It is a good idea and Bobby calls for the bill. This brings a protesting and charming Antonio to the table. Surely they will try the ‘dolce de la casa’? They decline desert and insist on the bill as cheerily as possible but he is not pleased. He pleads with Joanna. She will surely think about the boat trip. She smiles. She will give it some thought, of course. Where are they all staying, he wants to know. But Wendy is wise to this and cuts across him.
“Over in Costa Teguise,” she lies, referring to the next tourist town along the coast. And she is on her feet, the other women following her lead and all but hustling Joanna out of the restaurant before Antonio can get to Joanna’s side.
Out on the pavement, they make speedy progress back towards the Old Town, the climate now filled with a mix of relief that the moment has passed and amusement that they can dissect the funny side of Antonio’s amorous advances at leisure. Wendy’s fib about where they are staying seems wise in the circumstances, and they conclude that they will eat at the harbour on the following night.
The evening ends an hour later after a nightcap, Geraldine and Joanna the only two left together on the patio to their apartment. Geraldine, Joanna senses, has hovered in order to sit on her own with her. Joanna just waits, letting the warm night air, the sounds and smells drift around them.
“That was a close shave,” she finally says to fill the silence, giving Geraldine an opening to whatever she wants to say.
Geraldine sighs and smiles.
“Very close. I thought that you were tempted.”
“Oh not really, but you know what it’s like. He was flattering and it has been a long time. It was titillating, somehow.”
“Would you have done it? A sex fling, I mean.”
Joanna is struck by the way Geraldine had asked the question. There is a heavy pause as Geraldine waits for the answer. She is watching Joanna very closely in the dim light.
“Would it have been so important if I had?” Joanna ventures.
“It would have been. It would have been to me.”
Slowly, Joanna leans forward towards her in the dark that is lit only by a single candle, a questioning look in her eyes. Geraldine’s round, serious face, is gazing straight at her, the dark woman’s brown eyes intense in the glimmer of the candle. Now Joanna feels that awakening realisation again that she felt once before, years ago in that encounter group.
She realises with a jolt what Geraldine is hinting at. This is what Sally wanted with her. This is what Joanna had with Annie, all those years ago. She stares, saying nothing.
Geraldine leans forward now. She comes close to her. Her hand reaches in the dark for Joanna’s and she finds it. She squeezes it and pulls Joanna towards her. As if mesmerised, Joanna lets her. There, silently, not a word said, she comes close, kisses Joanna on the lips for what seems like a very long time. It is a long, delicious time, a time when Joanna wakens again from her years of emotional slumber. Their mouths open. The kiss is wet as their tongues gently encircle.
Then, almost as quickly as it happened, it is over. Geraldine draws back and looks closely at her. She smiles. Joanna can only stare in a moment of quiet shock. Then Geraldine is standing and about to leave her.
“I am so glad you didn’t go with Antonio,” she whispers softly.
And with that she walks off the patio and into the apartment. Joanna hears the door to the bedroom click quietly closed behind her. She sits there, emotions whirling for the best part of an hour.
When she wakens in the early morning light, it is from erotic dreams in which Antonio has not figured. Geraldine has. She has made love to Joanna. As she wakens, Joanna is excited and disappointed all at once.
She can hardly face Geraldine over breakfast. But Geraldine is different today. She acknowledges Joanna with a smile but it is a guarded smile. She is confidant and making herself the centre of attention with the others. She barely speaks to Joanna. Now it is Joanna who is waiting to talk with her.
Her chance does not come till later in the morning when they are sitting in the grounds of one of the island’s famous monuments, the Cesar Manrique Foundation where the island’s most famous architect built his home. They have already wandered through the rooms created in volcanic bubbles under the ground and on the top of solidified lava flow. She is sitting on a wall admiring a mural when Geraldine comes and sits beside her. The air feels suddenly electric. She looks straight at Geraldine. Her friend’s face is serious.
“That was nice, last night.” She waits for Geraldine’s response.
Geraldine is silent for a moment. Then she turns and looks straight at Joanna.
“Yes, It was. But it’s not possible. It would destroy the Gang.” She says it gently. But she is quite firm - sad but firm.
She is about to say something else, but Michelle appears and, oblivious to the depth of exchange between the other two, offers to go and buy ices for everyone.
Joanna is left disappointed and awakened. Geraldine is right. But the fact remains - she is awakened now and she does not know how she will cope with these feelings, so carefully kept at bay for so long. She puts a hand out to Geraldine, anxious that their friendship can at least continue. Geraldine smiles at her, takes her hand momentarily and just says,
“Sorry. It was something I just needed to do. It was thoughtless of me.”
Chapter 15
It was all so unsatisfactory. The end of the holiday was dominated by a sense of lost opportunity and secrecy. Oh, she kept up a front all right. She laughed and joked and let herself be the centre of the bawdy jokes about her and Antonio. They all five went up the mountain on camels and then went on in the jeep to the volcano-top restaurant. They took the tourist bus round the volcano crater edge, Michelle saying afterwards that she was hoping that their driver would not have a stroke or a heart attack as he wound the tourist machine round precipitous lanes built on top of the lava, the craters dropping to either side of them within inches of the bus wheels. Another day, they split on who wanted to dive on the yellow submarine out of the marina harbour to look at wrecks and marine life. When she realized that only she and Geraldine were to be left at the marine side restaurant, Joanna plucked up courage and faced her claustrophobia. She dived in the submarine with the others and hated every minute. But she did not want to be alone with Geraldine. Not yet. She was too raw and too shocked, not knowing what to feel or what to say to this friend of hers of so many years; to this friend who had changed the nature of that friendship in just the single second of an evening; and who had said that things should go no further. So Geraldine sat and had coffee alone at a harbour café. Secretly, Joanna could not wait to be back in her company – well, in her company in the safety of the others’ presence.
One thing Joanna made sure did not happen was that they returned to Papagayo. She had no desire to be naked again in Geraldine’s company. That would have been too embarrassing; too bizarre. Instead, she suggested that they should enjoy the poolside facilities of the complex they were staying in and the others agreed without any protest.
If anyone else in the Gang guessed that there was any tension, they said nothing. As it was, she and Geraldine talked casually enough in the company of the rest, but there was no point at which they were again alone together. It was as if by some unspoken agreement, each knew that it would be too complex to talk. What could either of them say, after all? They could only move on into something that would be momentous or move further back from it. This way, things were as neutral as they could be. If ever there was a time not to talk, Joanna felt that it was now. Why she felt this way, she was not prepared to explore - not just yet. She knew that would come later. It would have to, if they were to go on being friends. For now, she wanted Geraldine’s presence and no more. Her presence was vital. Something was missing when Geraldine was out of sight. Joanna knew it but did not want to face it. She feared that she was standing at a Rubicon; one that she should not cross, one that she was not going to walk easily away from. Yet, somewhere deep inside her, she was angry with Geraldine – for the impact her friend had had on her equilibrium. All this emotion that she was feeling was stuff from the past. It was stuff that she had intended should stay in the past.
