The Lemon Grove Read Online Free

moment – but she is heavy from food and drink and she delicately removes his hand. He seems content enough; he strokes her neck, scratches her scalp. They sip at their beers and look at the stars and she kisses him firmly on the mouth; a kiss that says ‘time for bed’.

    She is asleep. An insect is buzzing at the periphery of her consciousness. Does Greg get up? Was that a book that just slapped the wall? The gnat is no longer buzzing. The next thought she has is that, somehow, it’s morning. Greg’s side of the bed is empty. A strong sunlight is shafting through the shutters.
    They are on their way.

2
    ‘Did you not hear us coming?’
    Jenn is lying by the pool, her book rent at the spine and splayed across her face, its pages fused to her skin. The voice – its hurt and angry timbre – makes her sit up. How long had she been asleep? She hadn’t meant to doze off. This was just a quick top-up to bronze her strap lines while the sun was still bearable. And even then, as she opened the book across her face and shut her eyes, she told herself she was only drifting for a bit; cogitating, coasting the outer veils of consciousness, but definitely not asleep. She’d been aware of the scrape of the broken gate on the gravel, Berta the maid shouting hola from the steps. She’d extended an arm and twiddled her middle fingers back in greeting – she’d get up and fix them both a glass of lemonade in a minute. But then,for a while, she’d given herself over to the buzz of cars snaking down to the beach, imagining what lay in store for each. But this last car, theirs, turning into the long dirt track and crunching its way towards Villa Ana? She’d been dead to it.
    She props herself up on her elbows and blinks at the fierce light. It takes a moment for her eyes to acclimatise. Slowly, the silhouette standing before her takes form. Emma looks different, somehow; it’s only a week since she waved them off from the back of Greg’s mum’s car, but she’s altered. She’s swapped her usual jeans and T-shirt combo for a short but elegant bandeau dress which she’s teamed up with sandals and a sixties-style sun hat. The outfit is brand new and cost way more than the fifty pounds Jenn gave Emma, so she wouldn’t have to borrow from her nana. But the transition is not just sartorial, is it? Her face; the way she’s carrying herself. Has she lost weight? Are those highlights in her hair? Jenn tries not to stare at her.
    ‘Did you not hear us coming?’
    What is this? Jenn knows that tone; knows it too well. She’s being berated – but what for? Jenn suddenly twigs and sits up straight.
    ‘Did you not have money for the taxi? Shit … your dad has the euros. Is he still not back from the supermarket?’
    A trickle of sweat wriggles down her nose as she leans down and gropes for her bag. Her naked breasts hang loose. She snatches up her vest from beside the sun lounger. Her skin is hot and sticky and, as she tries to force her arms through, the cotton twists and tightens, snaring her upper body in the diving position. With her breasts now trapped under the hem, farcically round and exaggerated, she struggles to untangle the fabric. She concedes defeat, pulls the vest back over her head and starts again. Emma eyes Jenn’s freckled shoulders; runs her eye over her body.
    ‘Taxi? What taxi? Dad came for us.’
    Jenn is shot through with anger, but strangles it there and then. She takes her time, slowly feeds her arms through, one at a time, then inches the fabric down with her thumbs. The ritual gives her time to compose herself.
    ‘That must have been a nice surprise, then?’
    ‘Surprise? Hardly. It was all arranged last night.’
    This time Jenn can’t suppress the pang of hurt. ‘All arranged?’ When was it arranged? While she was in the loo at the restaurant? It was certainly never discussed. She swallows it, straightens her back, gets up and envelops Emma with a hug.
    ‘Well, anyway – you’re here! You