and was suddenly right beside her.
‘What you doing, Edeeee?’ It was Stefan, the bar and restaurant manager, who always pronounced her name with a few extra ‘e’ sounds at the end. ‘You been gone too long, you got three orders waiting.’
Edie shot a last glance after Laura, but she was no longer visible, swallowed up by the twists of the path and the sheltering tree branches.
‘Sure,’ she answered, flicking open the fridge, hauling out the Coca-Cola and pushing the door to with her foot. She wanted to go and hang out with her elusive sister, not get back to work. ‘I just noticed we were short of this stuff. I was only trying to help.’ She flashed a reproachful smile at Stefan, playing on the soft spot she knew he had for her.
‘Here, let me,’ said Stefan, pulling the crate from her hands. ‘I take it.’
He was too much of a gentleman, too calm and kind and far too beguiled, to get truly angry, despite her many failings. His entrancement was nothing less than she expected; she and Laura had learnt early in their teenage years the power that youth and beauty could wield. This translated now into the fact that Edie could get away with murder on Stefan’s watch. As Stefan lugged the crate of soft drinks back to the bar, she felt herself mellow, towards her job, the resort, everything. Her sister’s electric presence brought the promise of excitement that overrode the mundanity of working. Despite the feelings of inferiority that Laura unintentionally engendered in her, when Laura was around Edie instantly became a better, nicer, happier person. And of course there was always the impact of ‘double trouble’ to enjoy; the two of them together somehow held more than twice the allure of one twin on her own. They would have some fun in the next few days and weeks, for sure.
As the hours wore on, however, Edie lost hope that Laura, whose capacity for sleeping during the day was infinite, would reappear anytime soon. It was a shame, as she could have got some free food for her and had her nearby as she plunked baskets of bread and bowls of tomato salad, cups of coffee and bottles of beer onto the rough-hewn wooden tables. The up-market atmosphere meant plastic was kept to a minimum; Vlad wanted to create a rustic, authentic feel, but it was hard to eradicate almost half a century of Communism with a few artisan accoutrements and some things just weren’t quite right in Edie’s eyes. The restaurant still sported those naff metal dispensers that contained paper napkins so small and flimsy as to be good for nothing and Vlad had stared at her in utter bemusement when she had suggested serving beer in jam jars, as the trendiest places in London and Sydney did.
He’d had to concede to plastic chairs, though, as diners in bikinis had not appreciated splintered bottoms, but had confined these to the area at the front on the sand, keeping the wooden ones for the fully covered section, where people were expected to turn up with the semblance of being dressed. Of course by the end of every long night the chairs had invariably been moved and mixed up and one of Edie’s least favourite jobs was reorganising them all; she had about ten bruises on her legs from hefting around heavy, unwieldy lumps of pine. That was another legacy of Communism, Edie presumed; no concessions to ladies that they shouldn’t put their backs into physical work. Doing it really, really slowly was the only way she’d found of mitigating the situation but Vlad had got her number and threatened to put her on toilet-cleaning duty so she’d had to speed up a bit.
Slave driver Vlad was an enigma. His height was average – about 5 foot 10 – and he was dark like most people here, clean-shaven and well-groomed. His brown eyes burned bright in his thin face and seemed to be always scrutinising, judging, appraising; when he smiled, it did not reach them. He was slightly built but wiry – Edie had heard that he’d been a long-distance runner in his youth but that he hadn’t quite lived up to his promise and had only competed locally. Perhaps it was disappointment that lay behind his icy gaze.
Edie had never seen him with a woman and had found out, through not very discreet enquiries of other members of staff, that he was unmarried. What was puzzling – and unusual – was that he hadn’t tried it on with her. It had crossed Edie’s mind to wonder if he were gay. Now that Laura was here, this theory could be put properly to the test, as it was unheard of for any red-blooded male to refuse her sister. She was irresistible.
Although they were identical, with even their closest friends finding it difficult to tell them apart, there were differences between them that came from something intrinsic, primordial. Where Edie was pretty, Laura was beautiful. Edie was slim and attractive but Laura was something more, something harder to define, a heady mixture of sex appeal and mystery mixed with a pinch of dismissive contempt that kept every man she met drooling at her feet and coming back for more, however badly she treated them. Edie was generally considered a looker; her friends had nothing but envy for her appearance and figure and charm. But everything that Edie had, Laura had also, doubled. Laura was a stunner. At least, that’s how Edie saw things.
Their parents had tried hard to make sure that they never showed any favouritism, constantly reassuring Edie that they loved both girls just the same. Edie couldn’t remember the birth of her brother James, who was three years younger, but she was pretty sure that during their growing-up, all three children had enjoyed nothing but fair, equal and unconditional love. They had lived a life of plenty; plenty of money, plenty of space in their five-bedroomed semi-detached house in a leafy Brighton suburb, plenty of support. Edie, Laura and James had never wanted for anything and for sure, Laura had made a career out of getting others – men, namely – to provide for her. Edie, on the other hand, having dallied with university and modelling and travelling, had tired of life and needed to get away from the superficiality of everything that surrounded her. She was fed up of being supported, protected and smothered by her parents, Laura, doctors – all of them making decisions about what was best for her or what she should or would do. She had had to escape. So she had come here and got a solid, honest job and now she was working her socks off on a daily basis and wondering what on earth had possessed her. And yet … and yet she stayed. At three months and counting, it was getting to be the longest she’d ever stuck at anything.
The long afternoon dragged by. A group of lads, young and fit, provided the only entertainment, ordering beer after beer that kept Edie running backwards and forwards to the bar. She flirted with them a bit, out of habit as much as anything else, and also from a feeling she had that she was expected to provide the eye-candy at the beach bar that would keep the customers – the males, at any rate – coming back. She was glad when the group, half-cut and with glazed eyes, retreated to the beach to sleep off the alcohol, lying flat out on towels flung onto the soft sand under the pine trees, oblivious to the flies and the kids scuffling clumsily by and the volleyball game going on only metres away.
Even with the boys gone, there was no let-up from work; just customer after customer ordering meals and drinks and sandwiches. The resort itself wasn’t that big – only two dozen cabanas amongst the olives, all with plunge pools and cleverly situated to have sea views. But it was at full occupancy at the height of the tourist season and, though the accommodation was self-catering, most residents didn’t, and their custom was augmented by that of the constant ebb and flow of visitors, who came from far and wide to enjoy the beach’s clean yellow sand and shallow, crystal clear water. All of these people couldn’t be wrong and indeed it was an idyllic place. It could have been this that had made Edie act totally out of character and hang around so long, without ever intending to do so, and commit to the entire season working with Vlad. But in all honesty, her decision had more to do with Vuk; to being close to him by working with him. Or working on him. And now, working hard to keep Laura and Vuk apart, in all senses of the word.
Because Vuk, Edie realised, could be a problem now that Laura had arrived, the only blot on the rosy horizon of life with her sister. Vuk was devastatingly handsome and tall with it, well over 6 foot, strongly built with well-defined biceps and a six-pack to make a girl weep. His black hair was cut close to his scalp and a five o’clock shadow darkened his face even immediately after he’d shaved. The tan that enhanced his indisputable masculinity was deepening by
