Summer Loving (17 page)

‘What’re you doing for lunch today?’

‘I don’t know. I haven’t thought that far forward yet. Janica said to take this day one chunk at a time. I do want to avoid Estelle, though. I didn’t like her attitude at breakfast.’

I tell him what happened and what she said.

‘Oh shit. Yeah. The giveaway might have been you leaving my place wearing the same dress that you wore to dinner.’

That never entered my mind. How stupid. Still, I didn’t know that I was being observed, so it wasn’t really my fault.

‘Anyway, what can she do? She tells him, or you tell him. The result will be the same. It’s just one of those tough things you have to force your way through.’

‘I know. It’s just that there are right ways and wrong ways of doing things.’

‘When I dumped Monica Bellucci, I just texted her.’

‘We’re not all as heartless as you.’

‘True. Listen, let’s get changed and walk across to the town. There are a few places there for lunch if you get hungry. It’s only a small place. Hotel guests rarely go down there. Too many Portuguese around. I doubt whether you’ll run into your friend.’

‘She’s not my friend.’

‘Your fiend, then.’

‘That’s more like it.’

‘That was quite funny, wasn’t it. Fiend. I’m getting quite quick-witted.’

Half an hour later, we’re walking down a crowded street, surrounded by busy shoppers, cyclists and slow-moving cars that actually brush against you as they pass by. I’m wearing pale blue sandals and they’re already covered with a layer of dust. Most of the shops and houses we pass are painted a brilliant white. I can still hear and smell the sea, but I can’t see it anymore. The heat is incredible now and I realise that I’ve been spoiled by the air conditioning of the hotel. I wipe some sweat away from my upper lip.

It seems ridiculous, but this is the first sense I’ve had of actually being in a foreign country. The heat, the smells, the sounds, the people. The hotel, lovely and luxurious as it is, could be anywhere in the world. There are a few little hints in its decor that we’re somewhere other than the UK, but you’d be hard pressed to guess exactly where. And, of course, all the staff speak English most of the time.

‘Come and have a look at this.’

Kirstan takes my arm and steers me down a side street. After a few minutes, I notice a strong smell of fish and we’re soon inside a large, warehouse-like fish market. It’s cold in
here and it’s quite a relief after the heat outside. A lot of people, mainly women, mill around looking at the hundreds, or even thousands of fish lying on row after row of cold slabs and trestle tables.

It’s an incredible sight. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many different types of fish in one place, and the multifarious colours are incredible. There are even sharks, still looking dangerous and angry even though they’re dead, and a mind boggling variety of prawns and shrimps. Kirsten nudges me.

‘It’s amazing, isn’t it? All these fish you’ve never seen before in your life. There’re loads of little fish markets around here, but they tend to start up really early in the morning and they shut down around the time you and I are having breakfast. This is the only indoor one here, so they’re open much longer. Usually close about three in the afternoon.’

‘It looks fabulous. I’ve never seen anything like it.’

‘Great smell, too.’

‘Do you know what they all are?’

‘Sure.’ He walks past the rows of fish, pointing at them like an expert. ‘These are little red ones. Very arrogant, apparently. The ones up there are yellow ones with spots and a furious expression. Those are big white ones with vacant faces and grey bits. Those are eels – known for their sarcasm. And those are shrimps.’

‘You’ve obviously made quite a study of the local piscine population.’

‘You never know when it’ll come in useful. Impressing girls an’ stuff.’

We stroll along, hand in hand, looking at all the different displays. An old woman who looks at least ninety approaches us. Bizarrely, she’s wearing a Powerpuff Girls t-shirt. She smiles at Kirsten and then at me.

‘
Ela
é
uma
beleza
!’ she says to Kirstan, laughing, ‘
Você
deve
se
casar
com
ela
!’

Kirstan laughs out loud. ‘
Eu
vou
mater
isso
em
mente
!’ he replies.

She cackles loudly and hobbles off.

‘What was all that about? And since when did you speak Portuguese?’

‘GCSE Spanish, I’ll have you know. It’s not exactly the same, but you soon pick up the differences. They’re pretty close in lots of ways. You can get by with it.’

‘What did she say to you?’

‘Ah, well I can’t tell you that. It’s a superstition they have here. If an old woman wearing a Powerpuff Girls t-shirt speaks to you in a fish market, you can never reveal what she’s said. Sorry, but there it is. Want to get a coffee and a cake?’

I don’t speak Spanish or Portuguese, but I think I got the gist of it. I can feel my heart fluttering.

We sit outside a small café. I order a delicious-looking little custard cake and Kirstan has what looks like chocolate mousse on a pastry base, with a big dollop of cream on the top and brown sugary sprinkles. We eat and drink for a few minutes, watching people go by.

‘Is this lunch or elevenses?’ I ask.

‘I don’t know. I think it’s called gratuitous sugar intake time.’

‘Do you still eat doughnuts with coffee icing?’

‘Whenever I can get them. They’re quite rare out here, though.’

‘This cake is so rich that I don’t think I’m going to be able to manage any lunch in the near future.’

‘Yeah. All the pastries here are full of eggs. They really fill you up. Doesn’t matter. We can just sit here for as long as you want. No pressure. I’m going to order another coffee in a minute. This mousse cake is gluing my teeth together.’

‘Do you…?’

‘What?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘OK. If it doesn’t matter, you can keep it to yourself.’

‘You git. I was going to ask you if you felt this was…’

‘Weird?’

‘Apart from that. Do you feel it’s like we’ve never been apart? I know that’s an awful cliché…’

‘It is an awful cliché. But yes. That’s exactly what it feels like. That and weird. Also, I’ve never been out with a blonde before, so it’s quite exciting and sexually stimulating for me in a filthy, evil way.’

‘I’m glad I could be of help.’

‘When’s he back?’

‘Who?’

‘Your guy.’

That comes as a tiny shock. I’ve been feeling so relaxed that I’d almost,
almost
forgotten about all of that. Damn.

‘They managed to book the course for two sessions. Yesterday afternoon and this morning. They’ll probably have lunch there. Then it’s a couple of hours drive back here. So, mid-afternoon. Late afternoon. Who knows?’

‘You’re not looking forward to it, are you?’

‘Would you?’

He covers my hand with his. ‘No. I wouldn’t. I went through almost this exact thing with Kate Moss.’

I make a face at him. ‘So are you going to tell me what the old woman said?’

‘Well, as I said, Portuguese is different from Spanish. Similarities, but it can be confusing sometimes. I couldn’t really do an accurate translation.’

‘Yet you understood enough to be able to reply to her.’

‘Yeah, well, sort of, yeah. It was a sort of reply. Close to a reply. It was reply-esque. Don’t know if she understood or not.’

‘She laughed, though.’

I’ve got him squirming now.

‘She might have been laughing at my bad Portuguese.’

‘What did she say, Kirstan?’

‘Oh, alright. She was talking about you. She said that you were a real beauty and that I should marry you.’

‘And what did you say?’

‘I told her I’d think about it.’

I punch him hard on the arm. ‘That’s possibly the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.’

‘I knew you’d say that. You’re so bloody predictable, Sask.’

Thirteen

We walk hand in hand back to the hotel. In a rather cowardly way, our hands separate when we get within sight of it, as if we’re thirteen and have just spotted our parents. I get a stab of anxiety in my stomach again, as I remember that Franklin will be back some time in the next few hours. I try to convince myself that it’ll be a trouble-free transition, but I’m not convinced. I try to convince myself a little harder, but it still doesn’t work.

‘Well, Sask. You were my penultimate one-to-one surf lesson here. I’ve got some Brazilian kid of about nine this afternoon and that’s it. His parents are convinced that he’s so good at everything and he’ll be carving fifty footers after one half hour lesson. You can tell he’s afraid of them. I feel sorry for him.’

I turn around so that I’m facing him. ‘I want to go tonight, Kirstan. As soon as we can.’ I know I’m looking at him with an expression that could be interpreted as pleading. Inexplicably, I feel rather sad. Or maybe depressed. I don’t know. I’m just sick of existing in a semi-permanent state of uncertainty and anxiety. He smiles at me and flicks a strand of hair away from my face.

‘It’s going to be a bastard of a journey. I’m driving, you realise that, don’t you?’

I didn’t, but I can’t really say that it bothers me.

‘I planned to just go from place to place as the mood and the map took me. We could maybe get up to the northern part of Spain by tonight if we left late afternoon. I’m not sure where, exactly. I thought of vaguely heading up towards Tarragona or Barcelona. We might not get that far, though.  I’ve got a tent that’s big enough to sleep three, but if there’s nowhere to set up, I’m sure we can stay in some little bar or hotel somewhere. Or even in the van. There’s a mattress in the back.’

‘I’ll bet there is! I don’t mind. I don’t mind where we stay.’

‘Then I was going to go up into France, maybe stay there for one night, possibly two, then down into Italy. I don’t really know how I’m going to get across to Sardinia, though. Haven’t looked into it yet. We can see when we get there. You can probably get across from Naples. Not one hundred per cent sure how I’m going to get across to Italy from France, either. I don’t want to – I wanted you to know up front that it’s not going to be comfortable or luxurious. You might not like it. Plus the fact that I don’t know what I’m doing.’

‘I’m going to be driving through Spain, France and Italy with a handsome surfer hunk who I’m in love with, staying at romantic little hotels or camping on the beach and you’re wondering whether I’ll like it or not?’

‘I’ve got an iPod now. You probably won’t like most of it.’

‘Oh, well I’m definitely coming, then.’

‘I finish around four, unless the kid gets swept out to sea. I’ll go back and say goodbye to Janica. I think the new girl’s arriving this afternoon some time. Janica’ll show her the ropes, but I’ll have a chat with her anyway. There’re always a few little things that I can tell her that Janica may forget. Then I’ll go back and clear my stuff out of the chalet. It won’t take long. That’s where I’ll be. Wanna come down there at four, five or so, if you can? We’ll have a chat about what we’re going to do and then start on our fantastic journey.’

I smile at him. ‘This is right, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah, it is. Don’t know about you, but I feel like a weight’s been lifted.’

‘I know what you mean. It’s like the missing piece of the jigsaw has been found.’

‘That’s one hell of a metaphor. D’you mind if I use that and claim it as my own?’

‘I’m going to kill you.’

He leans forwards and his lips brush mine.

I get back to my hotel room and get in the shower. My hair feels thick and uncomfortable from having been in the sea for so long and I work twice the amount of shampoo and conditioner into it that I normally would, and leave it in for much longer, too.

I look at myself into the mirror as I’m rubbing moisturiser into my face. I’m surprised to see that I’m smiling. My usual mirror expression is glum and critical. I’m always looking for little adjustments that have to be made to my appearance. Appearance is so important with Franklin. He feels it reflects badly on him if people look at me and I’m not in perfect condition. It’s a bit like I’m one of his cars.

I notice that my skin has absorbed the moisturiser completely and it looks dry again. Has to be the sea water. I squirt a little more into my hand and work it in, then, for luck, add some more. I look at the container. It’s Chantecaille Nano Gold Energising Cream. Probably over two hundred quid for around two week’s supply.  I don’t even know where it came from. Maybe it was a gift, maybe it wasn’t.

I stare into the wardrobe, trying to decide what to wear. I know I’m looking for something that would be suitable for afternoon wear, but I’m finding it really hard to focus on what that would be. I finally decide on one of my favourites, a sleeveless Etro dress with a wrap at the waist and a crazy splash of multi-colour all over it.