Fiction

Barbara felt she and Adrian were drifting apart. Then a younger man caught her eye . . .

SHE looked far too young to be somebody’s grandmother. Everyone said so. Barbara smiled when they said it but was realistic enough to know when people were being kind. She looked plenty old enough to be somebody’s gran and felt every day of the age she looked.

From the balcony of their hotel room she gazed down to the pool below. There were still a few people around, enjoying the last of the Maltese sun.

“Shall we go down to the pool?” she asked her husband, predicting the response with the accuracy born of 30 years of marriage.

“I’ll just see what channels are on the TV,” Adrian replied. “I might come later.”

Barbara knew he wouldn’t. She won- dered why they still came on holiday together. She picked up her bag and left.

The evening sun was still warm and Barbara chose a pool chair and took out her book. She wanted to watch the other people but thought it rude to do so without at least appearing as though you were doing something else.

A young couple had moved their beds close together, his hand resting on her waist. Honeymoon, Barbara thought. A father threw a ball to a young boy in the shallow end. A middle-aged woman dozed next to a man reading a car magazine. An older lady in a scarlet suit clearly not designed for swimming eased herself up onto her elbows as a much younger man brought her a drink with an umbrella in it. Son? Certainly not, given the way he leaned towards her as she drank and then kissed the droplets from her lips. Toy boy, then. Good for her.

She and Adrian had been like each of those couples once. Well, apart from the last one. But since the kids had left home they’d just drifted and now seemed to be caught in their own perpetual circle of sameness. Something had to give.

Adrian didn’t make it down to the pool and they spent the evening eating an uninspiring pizza in the hotel restaurant.

“What shall we do tomorrow?” Barbara asked.

“The pool looked nice,” Adrian said. ‘”And there’s soccer on TV.”

“But we want to see something of Malta, don’t we? There are trips. The Blue Grotto and Mdina and a local market. Or we could go out on a boat.”

“You know I get sick on boats,” Adrian said. “And have you seen those rickety old minibuses they take you on trips in? And the way they drive round here? You’d be taking your life in your hands.”

Better that than have it just slip away, Barbara thought. “I might go,” she said. “Fine,” said Adrian, “but don’t come crying to me if you’re covered in bruises.”

THE next day Barbara left Adrian reading his book and made her way to the trip meeting point. The minibus had certainly seen better days and as they bounced along rutted tarmac she thought maybe Adrian was right about the bruises. Still, at least she was having an adventure.

They arrived at the car park and headed for the tiny boats to take them into the Blue Grotto. Each boat seated four passengers and she found herself in a group with the honeymooners and a handsome man a little younger than her, Colin, who chatted amiably as they admired the caves and marvelled at the clarity of the turquoise water.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Colin asked Barbara on the bus home. “There’s a festival in Mdina. The bus leaves at eight.” “I’ll think about it,” Barbara said. Back in the hotel room Adrian was watching the soccer.

“Did you have a nice day?” Barbara asked. “Lovely, thanks. You?” “It was beautiful. We-” The remainder of her response was drowned out by Adrian’s verbal explosion at the referee.

“I thought I’d go to Mdina tomorrow,” she said. “Would you like to come?” “Dusty old buildings? No, thanks.” In the restaurant that night Colin caught her eye, held up eight fingers and raised an eyebrow. Barbara gave a slight nod, then dropped her gaze.

COLIN was waiting at the bus stop when Barbara arrived and they sat together. They wandered the streets of Mdina and it was pleasant having someone to point things out to and to share lunch with. Colin was a widower, she discovered, who liked art and architecture. He showed her aspects of the historic buildings she’d never have spotted and she told him about her children and grandchildren.

The following day there was a market on the other side of the island. Barbara didn’t bother Adrian and anyway, she was looking forward to seeing Colin.

She wanted to tell him about the ambitions she’d had when she was younger. She wanted to be an interior designer and started a college course but got pregnant and had to put it aside. She hoped there might be interesting fabrics at the market to remind her of her holiday. And when they got home she could look into adult education classes; perhaps pick up where she’d left off.

The market was busy and after browsing the stalls together they stopped for lunch. Colin seemed a little distracted. His glance kept straying to another table where a younger woman, who’d also been on the bus, sat alone.

Colin had been at the bus stop early again and when Barbara arrived he’d seemed to call her over. She’d happily ushered him into a seat and sat next to him. The other woman had got on just behind them. Barbara’s mortification as she now realised her mistake was more than she could bear.

She stood up, saying she wanted to return to a particular tapestry stall. As she left she noticed Colin was already heading for the other woman’s table.

Barbara made her way through the bustle of the market, not sure where she was going. She thought back to the pool and the woman in the scarlet swimsuit. Was that who she’d become?

There were even more people in the market this afternoon and as Barbara pushed through them she felt a sharp tug on her arm. Her bag had disappeared into the throng almost before she realised what had happened.

All her money and her phone were gone and there was no choice but to return to the bus. But which way was it? All the stalls looked the same and there were so many people. When she finally arrived at the meeting point the bus had gone.

Barbara sat on a bench and cried. She cried for her lost bag and the departed bus. She cried at her foolishness over Colin. She cried for her unfulfilled ambitions. She knew she couldn’t stay there all night but for now all she wanted to do was sit on the bench and cry.

“Barbara! Thank goodness you’re all right.” Adrian had never sounded so concerned. Barbara looked up to see him running towards her, worry etched on his face.

“I saw the bus come back without you. I thought I’d lost you.” Barbara had to smile.

“It’s not that big an island,” she said. “But I’m very pleased to see you.”

And she told him about her bag and about getting lost, and he told her how he’d taken his life in his hands in a taxi to come and find her. She didn’t tell him about Colin. What was there to tell? He hadn’t even noticed she wasn’t on the bus.

Adrian clung tightly to the armrest as the taxi driver swerved and jolted them back to the hotel. Barbara turned to look at him, taking in his white face and clenched teeth. She had no right to expect him to be perfect. After all, she could hardly claim to be so herself. “Adrian,” she said, “do you love me?” “Would I be in this thing if I didn’t?” he asked. No, she thought, no you wouldn’t. And that was worth a million Colins.

Barbara looked far too young to be somebody’s grandmother; everyone said so. But she was grateful she was and that she was somebody’s mother and somebody’s wife. What she made of the rest of her life was up to her. It wasn’t Adrian’s job to make her feel fulfilled; it was his job to love her just the way she was. And he clearly did that.

Still, if life was about grasping opportunities then this was one too good to miss. “So,” she said. “How about that boat trip tomorrow?”

They seemed to be caught in a circle of sameness. Something had to give