I checked my watch. Two o’clock, and right on time, the old Spanish man appeared, dragged along by his two overweight labradors. When they reached the entrance to the Enchanted Pool, the two dogs strained and pulled, as they always did.
“No, you can’t go in there!” said the man loudly. “Come on!”
But instead of continuing their walk, the dogs strained harder, and, to my amazement, broke free.
“Come here!” yelled the man.
But the labradors were having none of it. Still tied together by their double leash, they pounded along the path to the pool and launched themselves into the deep end.
“¡Madre mía!” squeaked the Metronome and for the first time in living memory, was forced to swerve and change her path to avoid a collision with the oncoming dogs as they paddled towards her.
Labradors are water dogs, and this pair amply demonstrated that fact. Tied loosely together, they looked like a double act as they swam the entire length of the pool, side by side. Ignoring Joe and me, they paddled past us and headed for the shallow end where the elderly couple were standing watching, mouths open.
“Hugo! Horacio! Come here!” yelled the old man.
And where was the custodian of the pool? Asleep in the shade, his mouth slightly open, his mobile phone still in his hand.
Having reached the shallow end, Hugo and Horacio ran up the wide steps and out of the water.
“Here, boys!” called the old man.
The labradors, panting, shook themselves then raced back to their master.
A few drops must have reached the slumbering Alberto, because he opened his eyes in surprise. He held out his hand, testing for rain drops and checked the clear blue sky for stray rain clouds. He glanced at the pool, and nothing seemed amiss. The Metronome was swimming her widths, Joe and I were swimming our lengths and the elderly couple were standing in the shallow end.
By the time he looked over his shoulder, the dogs had been secured and were already pulling their master out of sight up the road. I imagine Alberto never found out who or what woke him that day.
“I reckon the Loch Ness Monster herself could take a dip in this pool and Alberto wouldn’t notice,” said Joe.
I agreed with him. But I’d enjoyed the interlude, and filed this last visit to the Enchanted Pool away in my Spanish memory archive. Sadly, we didn’t spot any ibex that day, but Hugo and Horacio made up for that.
On the evening of Sunday, 6th September, our car was packed and ready for the journey the next morning. The house was spotless, the roof terraces and patios were swept, and the garden was weed free. Our grapes were ripe and had never looked or tasted better.
But we wouldn’t be there to eat them.
None of our goodbyes were easy. We’d made so many friends during our time in the village and each farewell was painful.
“Come back to the village and visit us someday,” said Paco. “Pah! We’ll always be here in El Hoyo!”
We nodded, but I think we all knew in our hearts that we might never see each other again.
“And there’ll always be a bottle of my wine for you. You know my wine is the best in Andalucía, and I think this year’s harvest is going to be the best yet! Here, take this bottle. You should have a drink on your last night.”
It sounded so final. My eyes misted.
“You are doing the right thing,” said Carmen, as we hugged for the last time, and I was glad she understood.
We were leaving very early in the morning, so we’d already said our goodbyes to Marcia. We’d kept it brief and as light as possible. Years ago, I’d taken a rather nice photo of the village in spring, with poppies nodding in the breeze. We’d had it framed and presented it to Marcia, who loved it.
“I shall put this up in the shop,” she declared, “and it will always remind me of you. And I have a little snippet of village information for you to take away with you. It’s not general knowledge yet, but I think you would like to hear it.”
“Oh!” I said, grateful for any distractions. “What is it?”
“It concerns the young priest.”
“Father Samuel?”
“Yes. He has requested, and been granted, laicisation.”
“What’s that?”
“It means he has been relieved of his priestly duties. From now on, he will be treated as a layman. He has asked Lola Ufarte to marry him, and she has accepted.”
Joe and I stared at her.
“Well, I sincerely hope that young lady makes him a good wife,” said Joe drily.
“¡Madre mía!” I said, absorbing the news.
“Listen to you!” exclaimed Marcia. “Sounding so Spanish just as you are leaving!”
We hugged for the last time as her black cat looked on haughtily.
It was almost dark as we stood on the roof terrace looking out over the village. The remaining hours in the village were ebbing away and our last moments together were precious.
We watched Paco and Carmen’s ancient Range Rover climb out of the valley, crest the mountain and disappear from view over the other side. They would return to the village next weekend but Joe and I would not be there to greet them. For a long time, neither of us said a word.
We’d watched our last Spanish sunset and the street lights were flickering into life. High above us, a crescent moon hung. Joe topped up my glass with Paco’s wine, the rich, ruby-red wine sparkling as he poured.
“Did you know this summer has been the hottest on record in this part of Spain?” he asked.
“Has it?”
“Yes, and we were here for the coldest winter on record.”
“How could I forget! When we were snowed in, remember? And we didn’t have a kitchen.”
“Or anything, really. No proper bathroom.”
“And we’d just bought our first chickens. You had to dig them out of the snowdrift in the morning.”
“And last year was supposed to be the driest winter.”
“And we were here for the wettest winter. It rained for weeks and weeks, all over Christmas, and it didn’t stop until February, if I remember correctly.”
“And the roof leaked.”
“And we had a row of saucepans and buckets set out to catch the drips.”
We fell into silence again.
So many memories.
“Look,” said Joe, suddenly. “Who’s that?”
On the far side of the village, a couple were walking hand in hand. As they approached a street light, there was no mistaking the Real Madrid scarf, or the long hair. Geronimo and Valentina were taking a moonlight stroll.
“Well,” announced Joe, “I think your matchmaking work is done. There are no more unhappy couples for you to meddle with. It must be time to move on.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said, but I was smiling.
“I only hope you’ve got it out of your system now. Otherwise, look out, Australia!”
I don’t think either of us slept much that night, and the sun was barely peeping over the mountains when we locked the front door and posted the keys into Paco’s mailbox. The village was still asleep, wooden shutters closed tightly. Pearl droplets hung from spiderwebs in the bushes that lined the road out of the valley. We’d nearly reached the top when I saw a movement.
“Joe! Stop!”
On a crag, silhouetted against the pink dawn sky was a small herd of ibex, their curved horns held high. For a good thirty seconds they paused, allowing us to admire them before they melted away amongst the boulders.
“Oh! What luck to see them!” I said. “It’s like they were saying their farewells.”
Joe didn’t reply but I sensed he felt the same.
At the airport, we ordered coffee at the characterless cafeteria. I felt quite numb, almost light-headed, and it wasn’t because of my restless night.
“We shouldn’t string this out,” said Joe. “We both have very long journeys in front of us.”
It was agony.
Leaving Spain. Leaving our friends
. Heading in different directions to opposite ends of the planet, for who knew how long?
“This is just terrible,” I whispered.
Joe squeezed my hand.
“It won’t be for long, I promise. The radiotherapy will be easy, and I’ll be with you in Australia before you know it. Enjoy being with Karly, Indy and Cam. Keep busy. Have a look round for somewhere for us to live and I’ll be with you in no time.”
I nodded, I didn’t trust myself to speak.
It’s just a new chapter in our lives, that’s all, I tried to tell myself.
We stood and hugged, then Joe turned away and headed for the exit doors. Soon he and his new best friend, Jane the Sat Nav lady, would be driving the length of Spain to catch the ferry in Bilbao that would take them across the Bay of Biscay, into the English Channel, docking in Portsmouth. Then, together they’d navigate British roads.
My flight to Madrid flickered on the screen above my head. I concentrated on the tasks ahead, determined not to give in to emotions that threatened to engulf me.
I checked in, after paying to have my suitcase wrapped tightly in plastic. Maybe that would deter thieves if my luggage went missing again.
A thousand butterflies cartwheeled in my stomach as I climbed the steps and boarded the plane.
31
EPILOGUE
Foreign airports are always exciting, filled with promises of adventures ahead. Sydney Airport was no exception and, although it was becoming familiar to me, I was still excited.
It was ten o’clock at night when we touched down and I was groggy and light-headed from lack of sleep. My luggage hadn’t been lost, thank goodness, and now I scanned the crowd, hoping to see Karly and Cam. Cam, being a head taller than most, was usually easy to spot. I knew Indy wouldn’t be there as she was sleeping over with Cam’s parents.
And there they were, the broad grins on their faces mirroring my own.
“Good journey?” asked Cam, when we’d all finished hugging.
“Yes, not too bad. Just long.”
“Well, you won’t have to do it again. You’re home now!” said Karly.
“Yes! You’re quite right! Australia is my home now!”
“And we’ve made you a special Welcome Pack,” said Karly, handing me an envelope.
I grinned. Karly and I share the same sense of humour. I knew whatever was in the envelope would amuse me.
I ripped it open and took out the contents. The envelope contained a series of laminated cards, each with a picture and a message.
I read the first one out aloud.
This voucher entitles the holder to 1 x beach pool swim.
The picture was a photograph of Mona Vale ocean pool which I had fallen in love with on my last visit.
“How lovely!” I said.
“Read the next,” said Karly.
This voucher entitles the holder to 1 x fish and chips on the beach.
“Oh, perfect!”
Each card had something wonderful written on it, ranging from gin and tonic to chocolate. Karly knows me well.
I squealed and laughed my way through the whole stack until only one card remained.
“Read it,” said Karly.
This voucher entitles the holder to 1 x new grandchild.
The picture showed a pregnancy tester stick. For a split second, the world stopped spinning. I read it again, just to make sure, then looked up.
“Are you saying…”
“Yes!”
“You mean…”
“Yes!”
“You’re…”
“Yes! We’re pregnant! The baby is due in April!”
My jaw dropped.
“We’ve known for a while, but we wanted to tell you ourselves, in person.”
“We haven’t even told Indy yet.”
“She’s going to be a big sister!”
The news finally sank in. I shrieked, causing heads to turn. It was so totally unexpected, and the best welcome I could ever have dreamed of.
In that moment, I knew without a shadow of a doubt that Joe and I had made the right decision.
And what of Joe in the UK? Well, I’m pleased to say that he and Jane completed the journey without mishap, in spite of Jane developing the unnerving habit of flying off the dashboard and burying herself in his lap without warning.
Joe’s radiotherapy treatment also went smoothly and the course finished before Christmas. Just three months had passed since our painful parting in Spain.
As the New Year fireworks exploded over Sydney harbour, Joe arrived in Australia.
For us, another joyous life-chapter was beginning.
This time, Down Under.
P.S. What about Mother?
Thank you for the many wonderful Facebook messages and emails I’ve been receiving since Turmoil was published in December 2017. However, something has become clear from these.
I think I may have left a loose end trailing, concerning two old friends who didn’t appear much in this book. What about Mother and Judith? Did they come to the wedding?
Yes, Mother came to the wedding, looking extremely glamorous as usual. She wore lilac, with a matching fascinator decorated with tiny beads and feathers. In her position as the bridegroom’s grandfather’s girlfriend, she sat with Alejandro Senior, at a table with Alejandro’s extended family. Her gloved fingers held a long black cigarette holder, in which a ‘herbal’ cigarette smoked. I smiled when I remembered that time, years ago, when Mother had asked us to look after her tomato plants. How surprised we’d been when the penny dropped and we realised her smelly plants weren’t tomatoes at all. Mother still knew how to enjoy herself, and blew a smoke ring into the air above her head.
Judith, her daughter, didn’t attend the wedding as she lived in the next village, not El Hoyo. I don’t believe the wedding would have been her kind of ‘thing’ anyway, she would have preferred to stay at home with all ten dogs and goodness knows how many cats.
January 2018
A request…
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So what happened next?
Excerpt from the next in the series: “Two Old Fools Down Under”
I’ve always wanted a dog. I’ve had cats, all big personalities and all much missed. I remember Fortnum and her brother, Mason, who grew up with the children. Fortnum was a beautiful, delicate tabby with the heart of a lion, unlike her brother, Mason. He was huge, but cowered behind his little sister as she fought all the battles with the neighbouring feline community.
And there was Chox, the Siamese mix who enchanted us in Spain and ended up living in Germany.
There were always excellent reasons for us not to have a dog: we were working and out of the house all day. Or travelling too much and unable to give a dog the time or stability it deserved.
So I made myself a promise. One day, when the time was exactly right, we’d have a dog.
It was September 2015, and I had just landed in Australia clutching my precious, newly-granted Permanent Residence visa.
We no longer needed to travel. Our year working in Bahrain had cured my itchy feet and Joe was probably not well enough to explore the far-flung corners of the earth.
We’d stopped looking for greener pastures because we’d found them. Home is where the family is. Australia was where the family was and Australia was where we would put down our roots.
The possibility of owning a dog was suddenly within my reach for the first time in my life.
“You won’t rush out and get a dog the moment you land in Australia, will you?” Joe had asked, watching me carefully.
“No! Of course not! I’m going to be far too busy catching up with little Indy, and house-hunting, to think abo
ut getting a dog.”
But I lied.
“Good. When I’ve finished my treatment in the UK, and we’ve got a place of our own to live, then there’ll be plenty of time to discuss whether we want a dog or not.”
Read more in “Two Old Fools Down Under”
The Old Fools series
Book #1
Chickens, Mules and Two Old Fools
If Joe and Vicky had known what relocating to a tiny mountain village in Andalucía would REALLY be like, they might have hesitated...
Book #2
Two Old Fools - Olé!
Vicky and Joe have finished fixing up their house and look forward to peaceful days enjoying their retirement. Then the fish van arrives, and instead of delivering fresh fish, disgorges the Ufarte family.
Book #3
Two Old Fools on a Camel
Reluctantly, Vicky and Joe leave Spain to work for a year in the Middle East. Incredibly, the Arab revolution erupted, throwing them into violent events that made world headlines. *New York Times bestseller three times*
Book #4
Two Old Fools in Spain Again
Life refuses to stand still in tiny El Hoyo. Lola Ufarte’s behaviour surprises nobody, but when a millionaire becomes a neighbour, the village turns into a battleground.
Book #5
Two Old Fools in Turmoil
When dark, sinister clouds loom, Victoria and Joe find themselves facing life-changing decisions. Happily, silver linings also abound. A fresh new face joins the cast of well-known characters but the return of a bad penny may be more than some can handle.
Book #6
Two Old Fools Down Under (NEW)
Vicky and Joe face their future in Australia with some trepidation. Now they must build a new life amongst strangers, snakes, and spiders the size of saucers. Accompanied by their enthusiastic new puppy, Lola, adventures abound, both heartwarming and terrifying.
Two Old Fools in Turmoil Page 25