‘You can get out if you want,’ he said. ‘I’m not stopping you.’ She pulled at the door handle immediately but it was locked. She started to shout something at him, becoming frantic in an instant, but he quickly pressed the button to release the lock. ‘It’s automatic,’ he said. ‘It locks itself. It’s open now.’ She was out at once, door swinging wide. She ran to the other side of the road and stood there, panting, looking back at him as if she thought he might get out the little gun and shoot her.
He leaned across the passenger seat and closed the door, started the engine. He counted slowly to ten, then put it in gear. She was still standing there. I will have to leave her , he thought. It’s her choice. But he didn’t want to now. If he left her he was certain she would be dead within twenty-four hours. He didn’t want her to die. She was his responsibility. Because he had done this, brought this situation about. If she died then he had killed three people for nothing.
But he couldn’t force her to come either. He started the car rolling, saw she was looking down at her phone. He slowed, stopped, lowered the windows. In the wing mirror he saw her running towards the car, heard her shouting for him to wait. She got to the door and looked in through the open window. ‘She had to change phones,’ she said, breathless, voice really high-pitched. ‘That’s why I couldn’t get her.’
‘OK,’ he said.
She opened the door and got in. ‘She says I’m to stay with you.’
11
The shop was so busy Julia was going to have to turn people out to get away on time. It was typical – slack all morning, and now a rush. She’d forgotten about the delivery too. A new freezer unit that had been on order for weeks. There were two guys manhandling it through the rear service doors now, as she stood watching them. She’d had to leave the teenager serving out front.
The shop/ice cream parlour – selling ‘speciality ice cream’ made mostly by Julia herself from frozen yogurt – was right on the beachfront road, the pedestrianised lane that ran along the embankment wall from the tip of Marbella old town, as far as the marina. It was hers – or at least the long lease on the place was. She had used all of her money, none of Juan’s, kept it separate, got a lawyer involved. Juan had resented that, at the time – they had been about to get married, after all – but she had just weathered that storm, waited for him to forget it. Now he worked about as much as her in the place and she assumed that gave him some rights, given their legal status. She had never checked, but maybe she should.
She was almost certain he was having an affair with a young waitress she had employed until about a month ago. If true it wouldn’t be the first time in their marriage. The third, in fact, and each time she had confronted him he had reacted the same – he had been crestfallen, seized with panic that she would leave him or tell Rebecca, crippled with guilt and full of apologies and promises. He insisted, of course, that it meant nothing. Maybe she believed that the first time.
She shouted out some instructions to the delivery guys, to stop them taking half the wall away as they came through, then walked back through to the front to check. There was still a queue but it was getting smaller. The girl was doing OK. Beyond the open doors she could see the sun, bright on the sea. The weather had brightened up mid-afternoon – that was what was doing it – a little heat and it had brought them out.
She walked back to the storeroom and saw they were almost done. She looked in her pocket for her mobile, to check the time, remembered it had died on her and was by the till out front, charging. She needed to call Rebecca, check she was back safe, check Juan had got there, as they had arranged.
As one of the men stripped the protective card and styrofoam from the edges of the unit she switched the phone on. A text
He leaned across the passenger seat and closed the door, started the engine. He counted slowly to ten, then put it in gear. She was still standing there. I will have to leave her , he thought. It’s her choice. But he didn’t want to now. If he left her he was certain she would be dead within twenty-four hours. He didn’t want her to die. She was his responsibility. Because he had done this, brought this situation about. If she died then he had killed three people for nothing.
But he couldn’t force her to come either. He started the car rolling, saw she was looking down at her phone. He slowed, stopped, lowered the windows. In the wing mirror he saw her running towards the car, heard her shouting for him to wait. She got to the door and looked in through the open window. ‘She had to change phones,’ she said, breathless, voice really high-pitched. ‘That’s why I couldn’t get her.’
‘OK,’ he said.
She opened the door and got in. ‘She says I’m to stay with you.’
11
The shop was so busy Julia was going to have to turn people out to get away on time. It was typical – slack all morning, and now a rush. She’d forgotten about the delivery too. A new freezer unit that had been on order for weeks. There were two guys manhandling it through the rear service doors now, as she stood watching them. She’d had to leave the teenager serving out front.
The shop/ice cream parlour – selling ‘speciality ice cream’ made mostly by Julia herself from frozen yogurt – was right on the beachfront road, the pedestrianised lane that ran along the embankment wall from the tip of Marbella old town, as far as the marina. It was hers – or at least the long lease on the place was. She had used all of her money, none of Juan’s, kept it separate, got a lawyer involved. Juan had resented that, at the time – they had been about to get married, after all – but she had just weathered that storm, waited for him to forget it. Now he worked about as much as her in the place and she assumed that gave him some rights, given their legal status. She had never checked, but maybe she should.
She was almost certain he was having an affair with a young waitress she had employed until about a month ago. If true it wouldn’t be the first time in their marriage. The third, in fact, and each time she had confronted him he had reacted the same – he had been crestfallen, seized with panic that she would leave him or tell Rebecca, crippled with guilt and full of apologies and promises. He insisted, of course, that it meant nothing. Maybe she believed that the first time.
She shouted out some instructions to the delivery guys, to stop them taking half the wall away as they came through, then walked back through to the front to check. There was still a queue but it was getting smaller. The girl was doing OK. Beyond the open doors she could see the sun, bright on the sea. The weather had brightened up mid-afternoon – that was what was doing it – a little heat and it had brought them out.
She walked back to the storeroom and saw they were almost done. She looked in her pocket for her mobile, to check the time, remembered it had died on her and was by the till out front, charging. She needed to call Rebecca, check she was back safe, check Juan had got there, as they had arranged.
As one of the men stripped the protective card and styrofoam from the edges of the unit she switched the phone on. A text
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