by Lilac Mills
The road slithered through the relatively flat land of what she learnt was an ancient caldera, with a ring of mountains surrounding the high plateau. The caldera was the remains of an even larger volcano that had blown itself apart at some point in the distant past, the guide informed them, and all that was left was the circle of peaks indicating its circumference. The scale of it was breathtaking.
The major attraction – cone-shaped Teide – was on the left, and as the coach drove towards the cable car, she was amazed to see a hotel in the middle of the plateau. What an impressive and scary place to spend the night, she thought with a shiver. Visiting was one thing, sleeping in such close proximity to this slumbering dragon of a mountain was another thing entirely.
Sophie had never been on a cable car before, and the thought of a glass box swinging on a bit of wire several hundred feet above jagged rocks didn’t fill her with confidence. But she was determined to reach the top of the volcano because she’d read that the views were spectacular.
They really were, she discovered, as she stepped out onto the viewing area, pulling her fleece over her head and stuffing her arms in the sleeves. It was several degrees colder up here than at sea level, which wasn’t surprising since the volcano was over twelve thousand feet high. The air was thinner up here too, and she’d noticed warning signs advising people with heart conditions and pregnant women not to take the cable car.
Wow, you can see for miles, she thought, gazing at the spectacular view and breathing in the fresh, sharp air. Even in October and at this altitude, the weather and the temperature were still better than what she’d left behind in the UK. No wonder so many people loved this island – she was already falling in love with the little bit of it she’d seen, and the thought of returning home filled her with dread. She wasn’t ready to face reality yet, to have to deal with the prospect of finding somewhere else to live, to have to clear out her mum’s things, find a job, build a new life.
Giving herself a mental shake, she pushed the negative thoughts out of her mind – there was no place for them up here, high above the world in the shimmering sunshine, where she could almost imagine being able to touch the sky.
There was no place for melancholy or negativity when they descended either, as the coach crossed to the other edge of the caldera and dropped down through spectacular pine forests towards the north-east of the island. The scenery took her breath away, every turn and bend in the road revealing more beautiful vistas, and she couldn’t wait to show Aunty Anne the numerous photos she’d taken.
The group were on their way to one of the prettiest towns on the island, La Oratava, where they were to stop for lunch. And as the coach pulled into the car park of a restaurant, Sophie felt a tap on her shoulder.
‘I hope you don’t mind, dear,’ said an elderly lady sitting in the seat immediately behind. ‘I hate eating on my own, so would you mind if I sat with you?’
‘Of course not. I’d be delighted.’ Although she had sat on her own whenever she’d eaten out, she didn’t particularly like it, and the thought of having a companion at her table, however new the acquaintance, lifted her already buoyant spirits. ‘I’m Sophie.’ She poked her hand through the gap between the two seats, and the woman shook it.
‘Valerie, but everyone calls me Val,’ she offered.
They walked into the restaurant side by side and were shown where to sit. It seemed they were sharing a table with four other people, but she didn’t mind – although she realised that she would have minded a whole lot more without her new friend by her side.
Val took her hand and gave it a squeeze.
‘I’m OK,’ she hastened to reassure the elderly lady, and gave her a smile.
‘That wasn’t for you, dear, it was for me,’ Val said. ‘This is my first holiday without my Jim, and it’s not been easy. I was determined to do it, though. He wouldn’t have wanted me to sit around moping. In fact, he told me as much, more than once. Val, he used to say, there’s plenty of life left in you yet, so don’t waste it. It’s too precious.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry. How long were you married?’
‘Over forty years.’
It was Sophie’s turn to give Val’s hand a squeeze. ‘That’s a long time.’
‘However long it is, you’ll find it’s never long enough. Time is so precious, and it goes so quickly.’ She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘You young ones don’t realise.’
‘I think I do,’ Sophie replied. ‘I lost my mum less than a month ago.’
‘Oh, my dear, I do feel for you. How old was she?’
‘Sixty-one.’
‘That’s far too young. What was it? Cancer?’
Sophie nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
‘And you’re here all by yourself?’ Val asked.
She nodded again.
‘That’s so brave of you.’
Sophie gave her a small smile. ‘Not as brave as you.’
‘I tell you what, let’s be brave together,’ Val said, letting go of her hand and reaching for the carafe of red wine which had been placed on the table. ‘Will red do you, or do you prefer white?’
‘The red will be fine, but only one glass; I don’t drink much,’ she warned.
The warning fell on deaf ears, because by the time they were called back to the bus, Sophie was feeling decidedly squiffy. The three-course meal had been no match for three glasses of wine, and she hoped she wouldn’t fall asleep on the coach and miss the rest of the tour. They were currently on the northern side of the island and would be making their way south to a place called Masca Gorge.
Once again, the coach was heading up into the mountains, and the road was becoming twistier and narrower the higher they climbed. Val was now sitting in the front seat next to her, and every so often she’d reach for Sophie’s hand.
‘Oh, my word!’ the elderly woman exclaimed as the coach appeared to be heading directly for a wall of solid rock, before the road swung abruptly to the left and narrowly missed it. And it wasn’t the first time this had happened – it seemed the only way for such a large vehicle to manoeuvre around a narrow hairpin bend was for it to take up all the available space in the road. Sophie felt sorry for anything coming in the other direction, although it was bound to happen sooner or later, and when it did her heart was in her mouth as the two vehicles inched slowly past one another.
Val, she noticed, kept her eyes screwed shut throughout the whole thing.
‘The driver must be used to it,’ she said to her, but Val, without opening her eyes, shook her head.
‘I don’t care how used to it he is, accidents happen, and have you seen that drop!’
Sophie had, and wished she hadn’t, especially since there was only a low wall of intermittent concrete blocks separating them all from certain death, and—
‘Oh…’ she breathed as she saw where they were headed, and her soul sang at the beauty of it.
Val risked opening one eye. Then she opened the other and sat up straight.
In front of them, perched on the hillside, with houses tumbling down the steep sides in ordered chaos, was a village, half of its buildings appearing to balance precariously on a knife-edge ridge.
But that wasn’t what had taken Sophie’s breath – it was the view. A deep V-shaped valley had been gouged into the mountains, the bottom too far down to be able to see, and the sky was a startling blue in between the peaks of the rugged ridges, with the azure sea in the distance.
‘So that’s Masca Gorge,’ she murmured. Then their guide proceeded to give them some interesting facts and figures, before letting his passengers off for a wander around the village and to take some essential photos.
‘I can’t believe people can actually hike down that,’ Val said, as they reached a lookout point (or mirador, as it was called in Spanish) where the view down the gorge was spectacular and very definitely worthy of a photo or two.
Both of them got out their phones and took turns taking photos of each other.
‘My son thought I’d spend all day lounging by the pool,’ Val said. ‘This’ll show him.’ She nudged Sophie with her elbow and laughed. ‘Especially when I tell him I walked down it. That nice guide of ours says that it’s very popular with walkers, and you can get a speedboat to pick you up from the beach at the end of the gorge that’ll take you to Los Gigantes harbour. Fancy that! If I was a few years younger I’d give it a go, but I’m lucky if I can manage a couple of flights of stairs these days without my knees giving me trouble. You ought to do it, though.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Sophie began, but Val interrupted her.
‘Why not? You’re young and fit, and think of the sights you’d see. I’ve always wanted to have a ride in a speedboat. If you don’t do these things when you’re young enough, healthy enough and have still got all your faculties, then when can you?’
‘Er… right. I might look into it…’
Sophie liked the idea of hiking down the gorge. You could hike up it too, but the up bit didn’t appeal to her half as much as the going down bit, as it would involve considerably more effort and a greater degree of fitness than she possessed, despite Val’s misplaced enthusiasm. But she hadn’t brought the right footwear and neither did she have a set of those walking poles she’d seen people using. Plus, she didn’t want to undertake such a hike on her own, especially since she only had five more days of her holiday left. If she ever came back to Tenerife, she would definitely walk down Masca Gorge, have a celebratory swim from the beach at the end of the valley, then finish off the trip with a ride in a fast boat. For now, though, she’d have to settle for a coffee and a pastry at a little café perched precariously on the side of the gorge where she could admire the spectacular view.
She realised one thing, as she stared out over the steep-sided valley, and that was that Tenerife, with its varied landscapes, friendly people and glorious weather, had most definitely and irrevocably got under her skin.
She’d be very sorry indeed when she had to board the plane for her homeward flight and the real world at the other end.
Chapter 5
This would be the third occasion she took the coastal walk to Alcalá, but Sophie was looking forward to it as much as, if not more than, she’d done the first time. It had quickly become her favourite thing to do in the mornings, as she’d settled down into a routine since the fabulous trip to Teide and Masca. First she’d have breakfast, then pay the supermarket a quick visit to pick up some fresh bread and ingredients for her dinner, followed by the making of sandwiches for when she arrived at one of Alcalá’s several beaches, where she’d read her book, do a spot of sunbathing and maybe even dip her toes in the rather refreshing, if not downright chilly, Atlantic ocean. Then there would be the gentle stroll back, past the natural seawater pool, the waves pounding against the rocks, the banana plantations, and her favourite villa.
But today she noticed that something was different.
The first part of her plan went… well, according to plan.
The plan deviated slightly when, as she passed the villa, wondering as usual if anyone actually lived there because she’d yet to see the shutters open or anyone in the garden (although the last time she’d walked this way a chair had been moved, so someone was around), she noticed a piece of card tied to one of the double gates. It had two holes punched in it and was secured to the metal rail by what looked like a shoelace. It also had writing on it, in pen, which had been gone over several times to make the top line stand out. The handwriting itself was neat and quite elegant. But it was also in Spanish, so she couldn’t read a single word of it.
Thank goodness for Google Translate, she thought, as she typed the words slowly into her phone, making sure the spelling was correct.
Fully expecting the note to be for a delivery driver, or maybe (and her heart did a flip at the thought) that the house was being put up for sale, she was stunned to read the message her phone revealed.
‘Help wanted’ it said. Then it went on to detail what kind of assistance was required. It seemed like an elderly gentleman who was due to have a hip operation needed help with home chores (at least, that’s what Google told her). Maybe it meant housework?
But the bit that really gave her pause – and began a slow churning excitement in her stomach – was the fact that it was a live-in position. Small payment for services, all food and other living expenses included, according to her phone.
Could she? Maybe…
Should she? Probably not.
Dare she? Yes. No.
Oh dear…
She’d walk to Alcalá and think about it. Now wasn’t the time to do anything hasty.
She began walking, her feet seeming rather reluctant to move as the thoughts rolled around in her head like so many loose marbles.
Just making an enquiry wasn’t being hasty, was it? In fact, the more enquiries she made, the better informed she’d be to make a decision—
Oh, who was she kidding? Make a decision about what? Taking a job she wasn’t qualified to do, in a foreign country, where they spoke a language she could neither speak nor understand? She had a life, a family and a home in England, and—
Hang on a sec, what life was this, then? Come to think of it, what home? She’d very shortly be moving out of the one she’d shared with her mum, and she hadn’t the foggiest idea where she was going to live. And as for a life – she had no job and not even the prospect of one, no friends, and no social life, unless you counted the online forums and Facebook groups she’d joined to connect with other people in the same situation as her. There was her family to consider, though. Aunty Anne would miss her, and she’d miss her aunt, but with Denise about to give birth any second, her aunt would have her hands full helping her daughter look after the new babies. And that was another thing; Sophie wasn’t sure she wanted to miss out on her first cuddle with the little ones.
But it was only for three months… not for ever…
She halted. Maybe she should just go back and reread it. Re-translate it. Just in case she’d got it wrong, and the occupant was redirecting an IKEA delivery or something. Actually, was there an IKEA on Tenerife?
For goodness’ sake, get a grip, she told herself silently, as she started walking again. She would go to the beach as planned, spread her towel out on the hot, dark sand, eat her sandwich and think it through logically. And if she felt the pros outweighed the cons, then there was nothing to stop her ringing the bell and asking for more details on her way back to her apartment. What was to say she’d get the job anyway? She might take an instant dislike to the man with the hip, or he might not like her. Or, more likely, her lack of Spanish would be a major drawback. Not everyone spoke English on the island, she’d noticed, although many people did have a smattering, usually related to the kind of work they did. And if none of those things proved to be a barrier, then her gender or her age might. The gentleman might not want to share his home with a woman, or he might be looking for someone more matronly.
She decided to keep walking, have a good long think, and take her time – the villa wasn’t going anywhere. It would still be there on her way back.
But the job mightn’t be.
Someone else might apply for it, someone local. She’d kick herself if she’d been pipped at the post.
Sophie sat on one of the large rocks dotted at intervals along the side of the path and turned to face the way she’d come. From this distance and from this angle, it was impossible to tell if the advert was still attached to the gate.
Oh, it must be, because a woman walking her dog had stopped to read it.
What if she decided to apply for it?
Sophie jumped to her feet and marched back along the path.
The woman moved on, towing her dog behind her, but every now and again she glanced over her shoulder at the villa. Sophie increased her pace until she was almost running.
By the time she arrived at the villa’s gates, the woman had turned a bend and was out of sight, and Soph
ie breathed a tentative sigh of relief.
Before she rang the bell, though, which was an old-fashioned pull cord linked to a real brass bell hanging by the side of the front door, she checked and double-checked the notice. Each time, Google gave her the same result, so, without anything further to be gleaned, she took a deep breath, briefly closed her eyes and pulled the cord.
The bell rang. Sophie waited.
And waited.
Nothing. No movement whatsoever that she could see.
Perhaps the occupant, or occupants, were out? There was a phone number written on the card, but she didn’t want to call it and risk having an awkward conversation with someone who didn’t speak English.
Perhaps she should walk to Alcalá after all, and try again on her return?
She backed away, then turned on her heel, glancing over her shoulder as she did so.
The door opened and a grizzled head poked out. ‘Qué pasa?’
‘Er… I… um…’
‘Inglesa?’
‘English? Yes, yes, I am.’ She nodded enthusiastically.
‘What do you want?’ His English was heavily accented, but at least it was English.
‘The… um… advert?’ She stepped closer, until her nose was practically squashed up against the railings of the gate.
‘Sí?’
‘Do you want a carer or a home help?’
‘Qué?’
She knew what ‘qué’ meant – her mum used to love watching reruns of Fawlty Towers.
‘Someone to help you after you have your operation,’ she amended.
‘Sí, yes, I need help with the clothes, the food, the cleaning…’ He trailed off, then called out, ‘Come in, come in,’ beckoning her inside the gates.
Sophie had assumed they were locked because she could clearly see a chain and padlock, but closer inspection revealed the padlock wasn’t in fact locked, so she threaded the chain through the railings and pushed the gate open; it wouldn’t do to rush off now that she’d disturbed him, she decided, not wanting to be rude.