The Holiday Swap

by Zara Stoneley

  ***

  Hugo James got back into his own house and, leaning back on the front door, reached into his pockets for the cigarettes he’d forgotten he’d given up. Again.

  He should have minded his own business, except if she’d set the cottage on fire then his own half would have gone up in flames as well. When he’d found her on his doorstep earlier it had been faintly amusing. But seeing her half-dressed in the cottage, when they were practically inches apart, had been more than a little disturbing and he’d been alarmed to find himself seconds away from kissing her.

  Until she’d had a little pink fit, which made her even more appealing, dressed as she was in a very lacy bra (he couldn’t even remember what colour), her washboard-flat stomach disappearing into blue-striped pyjama bottoms.

  He could have sworn she was about to slap him. Which was why he’d backed off and gone before she’d noticed his hard-on. Hmm. He rifled through the kitchen drawer and found a packet of fags he’d hidden from himself.

  It looked like life was going to be slightly more entertaining round here for the next couple of weeks. Much more fun than grappling with Daisy and her hulk of a boyfriend. He lit the cigarette and stared out into the darkness.

  He remembered Flo, even though he appeared to have made less of an impression on her. In his teenage brain she’d been an exotic creature as she flitted round Billy’s yard, her naturally honeyed skin a contrast to the pale faces that surrounded him, and she’d looked on his antics with the scorn they deserved. Barely sparing him a glance. Which was why every week he’d teased her, then given up and switched his attentions to one of the many girls who were more than happy to play his games.

  Now she didn’t seem quite as immune, and she was ten times sexier. With her flushed cheeks and full lips she was the hottest girl he’d seen round here for a long time. And she had a fiery streak, which was what had really turned him on. Life round here could get boring, he liked a challenge every now and again.

  He stubbed out the cigarette and grinned. ‘Christmas, dear Hugo, has come early.’ Playing with the grown-up Flo was going to be much more fun than playing with the teenager would have been.

  Chapter 11 – Daisy. New Friends

  Daisy opened her eyes and lay there for a moment. It was weirdly quiet. No Mabel blundering about waiting for her breakfast. No birds. No Anna or Flo.

  She grinned and spread her arms and legs out like a starfish and felt ridiculously happy. And slightly silly. If anybody saw her now they’d think she’d gone mad. Well Jimmy thought she had anyway, and Anna didn’t seem too sure when she’d headed off back home.

  So now what did she do? The world (well Barcelona) was apparently her oyster, and she planned to make the most of it. Daisy stopped being a starfish and sat up, cradling her knees in her arms and feeling a bit foolish. The past few days had been a holiday, with friends. Now she was on her own, with nothing to do except enjoy herself, which was a bit odd and unnerving. The last time she’d been in this position… no scrub that, she’d never been in this position.

  She clambered out of bed and headed for the bathroom. It wasn’t that she wasn’t used to being on her own (although, to be honest, with Jimmy popping in, Hugo stopping off to put her in her place, and customers bringing dogs, there weren’t often days when somebody didn’t knock on the door), but she always had tons of ordinary stuff to do. Unavoidable stuff. Like feed chickens, walk dogs, mend fences, ride horses, make fires.

  ‘Right, I need a list.’ Talking to herself would have to do, seeing as she didn’t have Mabel. ‘And before that I need breakfast.’

  ***

  Daisy stared at the man who was looking at her expectantly. And now slightly impatiently. Every last ‘Essential Spanish Word and Phrase’ she thought she’d learned from her book while they were on the plane completely deserted her.

  How on earth did you say ‘I’d like a croissant and coffee’ in Spanish? She actually had been quite proud of herself as she’d ignored Anna’s scoffing (and attempts to steal the book) and had mastered ‘How do you do?’ ‘My name is Daisy’ and ‘Can you tell me the way to the railway station’ and ‘I would like to make a reservation for two people’. Well she thought she’d mastered them. And had thought she was doing quite well, until now, when she realised she’d skipped the obvious food-related stuff.

  Now, the only words that her brain would dredge up were ‘cafe’, which she was pretty sure was French, followed up closely by ‘Je m’appelle Daisy.’ French again. And ‘voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?’ this time dubious song-inspired French, which was totally inappropriate when you’d just got up.

  ‘Si?’ He stared at her, then rattled off something that could have been Greek for all she knew.

  ‘Croissant?’ Was that just French, or multi-lingual?

  ‘Croissant, si.’

  Phew.

  ‘Que quieres de beber?’

  Oh bugger. Surely he couldn’t be asking if she wanted a baby?

  He gave her a slightly disapproving look. ‘Drink? You want a drink?’ She must have looked even more clueless, and on the verge of panic, than she thought.

  ‘Oh yes, oh coffee, café, por favour, please.’

  ‘Con leche? Cortado? Americano? You want it with milk, no milk?’

  ‘Er black coffee please, no milk, erm how do you say that in Spanish?’ It felt so rude not to even know how to say anything except please and thank you.

  ‘Un café Americano.’ He smiled and nodded.

  ‘Gracias.’

  Feeling better after her first sip of coffee, Daisy looked at the map Flo had left and the list of ideas. She was used to having structure in her days and she knew she needed something to do, have something planned. Or she’d panic.

  ‘Daisy Fischer, you’re crazy.’ How could she possibly even think she was about to panic when she was sitting outside a gorgeous little café, in the sun, in December? Okay she had a jacket on, and croissant flakes were blowing about a bit and getting stuck in her fringe, but it was still amazing. At home she’d be knee-deep in mud (or snow) and have been up since 6 a.m. chipping ice off the trough for Barney. Instead she had ab-so-lute-ly nothing to do.

  She sat back in her seat and gazed around. The square was only round the corner from Flo’s apartment, but they hadn’t actually stopped and sat here in the last few days. They’d barely had time to appreciate the Gaudi architecture (not that Anna was particularly interested), or even check out the Christmas market before it was time for Anna to head home. Followed, not long after, by Flo.

  The large square was quiet at this time in the morning, apart from the occasional dog-walker. In fact, there were more pigeons than people. It was so peaceful she couldn’t believe she was in the middle of a city, that just a short walk away was the hustle and bustle of Las Ramblas.

  She studied the striking building opposite through the steam coming off her coffee. Then flicked through her guidebook to see what it said.

  This, apparently, was the el Born ‘Centro de Cultura y Memoria’. It was historic, it was interesting, it had been a market, it was free entry, it was worth a visit, said the book. So she would. After she’d compiled a list. With that at the top (free was good).

  The list Flo had written out for her was split into ‘touristy things you might think you have to do’ and ‘real-life stuff that is fun’. Which was typical Flo. Not surprisingly lots of things seemed to cross over both categories – very Flo, she was brilliant at seeing the positives and trying anything. But she had seemed to recognise that Daisy wasn’t quite as adventurous.

  My God, how had she ever thought she’d be stuck for something to do? Just looking at Flo’s jottings made her feel tired.

  Go window shopping on Passeig de Gracia and Rambla de Catalunya (touristy) had an arrow to Fab beer and olives at La Bodegueta (fun)

  She certainly wasn’t going to go home any thinner.

  Walk up Montjuic (touristy) had a pointer to Coffee and snack at café, view of the whole ci
ty then get the cable car down to Port Vell (more fun)

  Picasso Museum (this was in both categories with a note, depends how seriously you take yourself and your art)

  Tapas and wine tours (fun) – Javier has some ace places on his list, and he’s cute. (Cute? Where did cute men come into this?)

  Meet-ups (fun) – there’s a local one just round the corner. I’ve told Javier to expect you.

  Hmm, sounded a bit dubious, and this Javier got around. This sounded like match-making at the most underhand level, which wasn’t like Flo at all. Flo was open and generous.

  Jog along the beach (everybody does it, and I know you’re a fitness freak).

  She wasn’t, always being on the go was different than fitness freak.

  Vespa tour (can’t be much different to riding a horse, can it?)

  It probably could, thought Daisy. And no way would she ride a horse on these roads, there were scooters going in all directions (wrong ones quite often), which went right against her sensibilities about doing things correctly.

  She would, thought Daisy, as she scanned down the rest of list, have to do some prioritising. It was like being a kid in a pick-and-mix shop, she wanted to grab a handful of everything but she knew if she did she’d probably feel ill afterwards and not appreciate the best bits.

  Closing her eyes and tipping her head back, she let the soothing warmth of the sun stroke her face. It was so relaxing, she could just sit here all day drinking coffee and dreaming where she could go and who she could visit.

  Or she could check in with Jimmy and then go exploring. Even after his little temper tantrum when he’d found out she was staying, she owed him at least a phone call. He’d have calmed down now, so they could have a quick, friendly catch-up. The time to discuss their future was when she got home. Face to face.

  ‘Hi, you’ve reached Jimmy but he can’t be arsed to answer his phone right now. If you’re selling something, bog off, if you need me for a job leave a message and if you’re after my body leave a number.’ Daisy grimaced; his answerphone message was the most original thing about him, but he hadn’t changed it for years. It was like their relationship. Comfortable, stuck in a rut, and, quite frankly, not as funny as it used to be. Jimmy was just Jimmy – totally predictable and happy as he was. He didn’t want anything to change in his life, and he wanted her to stay the same as well.

  She sighed. They really weren’t ready for marriage. Either of them. And especially not to each other.

  Leaving a quick message to tell him she was fine, and ask if he could check Flo was okay, she rang off and pocketed her phone.

  Dropping some change into the dish to pay the bill, she stood up. Today would be a wandering around getting her bearings day, and she’d look at the list in more detail.

  And chill.

  ***

  She’d stick with water. Water was good. Water meant you didn’t get drunk, say stupid things, make a fool of yourself or have a hangover. She reached out to push the bar door, then it opened. Which meant she nearly fell in – except she was stopped short.

  ‘Hi there.’ The deep, startlingly blue eyes stared straight into hers and she was transfixed by the fine lines that fanned out from them (it was definitely the wrinkles, not the oh-so-gentle-but-slightly-sad eyes, that had caught her attention), and the dark eyebrows above, and the tan. Wow, that was some tan. He was slightly taller than her, but had taken a step back when she’d more or less toppled into the place. Which was good. It avoided that embarrassing being pressed against a complete stranger’s body situation. Fine on the London Underground (or so she’d found the one time she’d been there), not so fine in a Barcelona bar.

  Close enough to shake hands, not so close to swap fragrances; gently inviting, not overcrowding. Which was nice, and not intimidating at all.

  She dithered. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. What on earth was she doing here? But she’d told Flo she’d come, and she always did what she’d promised.

  She probably should say something.

  ‘Er.’ Excellent start.

  ‘Here for the meet-up?’ The broad, genuine smile caught her off-guard and she found herself smiling back.

  She nodded.

  ‘You’ve not been before, I take it? Come in, nobody bites.’ The smile faltered a bit when she reversed a step, and he lifted an eyebrow. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Fine.’ Feeling pretty stupid, but fine. ‘Sorry, I’m Daisy.’

  ‘You’re Daisy?’ He laughed, a generous warm, reverberating kind of sound. ‘I’m Javier.’

  ‘You’re Javier?’ Phew, she had been thinking she’d spend all evening surreptitiously peering at people, trying to find the mystery man. And she’d have been looking for some Spanish-talking, arm-waving, madly gesticulating, totally outgoing, noisy Spaniard. Okay, she was being a bit stereotypical here, but that was just how she’d pictured him. After what Flo had said. Not a gentle, very English-speaking (but slightly Spanish-looking), reserved type of guy.

  ‘I am.’ He nodded. ‘Flo told me all about you.’

  ‘She did?’

  ‘She messaged me an hour ago and told me that if you didn’t turn up I had to go and winkle you out of her apartment.’

  ‘I don’t know how I ever got to have such bossy friends.’ Ahh. She must have sounded particularly pathetic when she’d messaged Flo earlier and mentioned she had one hundred and twenty-seven books on her Kindle so wouldn’t get bored at all.

  ‘I’ll send you a link to the meet-up group that was on my list, it’s for people who want to, well, meet up. It’s brill, one of the places is just round the corner, literally. You just sign up online and then turn up and have a few tapas and drinks. And Javier will probably be there, you’ll like him, everybody does.’

  ‘Javier?’

  ‘He’s a mate of mine, he runs these tapas and wine tour things so he goes to the meet-ups and hands leaflets out, you know, networks. I did a piece for the mag about the meet-ups and that’s how I met him. There, I’ve emailed you a link. Actually there’s a meet tonight. Go! I’ll send Javier a message and tell him to look out for you.’

  She’d checked the link and was relieved to find that it was in no way related to speed-dating, or aimed at sad, lonely singletons in the city. It was just a chance to meet people, chat, find out about good places to go to and rubbish places to avoid.

  ‘Come in.’ Javier motioned her in, and started to thread his way through the crowd of people, checking she was following. ‘Flo’s sweet, and very kind.’

  ‘She is, I was kidding about her being bossy. She’s lovely.’

  ‘She said you’re staying at hers for a couple of weeks?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘I’ll have to persuade you to come on one of my tours then.’ He winked, then turned as he reached the bar. ‘Drink?’

  ‘Red wine please.’ Fail. So much for sticking to water.

  ‘I’ll introduce you to a few people.’ Mr Wonderful-smile was fed up of her already. ‘You can leave your coat and stuff over there, if you want.’

  She clutched the Kindle tighter and felt a bit daft. It was her security blanket, she’d not been convinced when Flo had told her that meeting people in Barcelona was easy – meeting new people in Tippermere was as likely as being invited to a royal garden party. If she had her Kindle she could sit in the corner with a drink for an hour if nobody talked to her and she’d be fine. She could make inroads into her to-be-read pile.

  ‘So what kind of tours do you do?’

  ‘Tapas and wine.’ He took her jacket and hung it on one of the hooks under the bar, then leaned in to make himself heard. One warm hand rested on her shoulder and she relaxed. He was nice, he was like an antidote to stress. ‘No pressure, but they’re fun if you fancy that kind of thing, I just take you round to some of the best bars – you know, the ones that are a bit off the beaten track.’ He paused and raised his eyebrows, ‘unlike this one.’

  Daisy laughed. The place was crowded, with the buzz of people g
etting to know each other. It seemed years since she’d been in this situation, and, despite having to shout to make herself heard it was giving her a novel rush of adrenalin. A happy vibe.

  Javier glanced towards the door and a smile of pure adoration settled on his features. Daisy followed his line of sight, smack into a very pretty, petite figure, who was waving wildly, a massive grin on her generous mouth. ‘Hang on a sec, I’ll be right back. Will you be okay for a bit? I’ll introduce you to—’

  ‘It’s okay.’ For a second she felt reluctant to let him go, she wanted to hang on to him, which was stupid, she’d only just met him. But it had felt safe having a friendly figure at her side, somebody who actually wanted to chat to her.

  She swore that Jimmy hardly heard a word she said these days, and he definitely didn’t listen when she was talking about what she’d been up to, or what she’d like to do. He just wasn’t that interested, she supposed, he tuned out unless she was talking about something that interested him – like food, beer, or how much he should charge to cut a hedge. Which was more about him than her.

  Daisy stifled the sigh. It was so refreshing to be having a proper two-way conversation with a man who hadn’t got one eye on the TV. Which was why, she supposed, she’d relaxed in Javier’s company and found herself chatting away quite happily to a stranger. ‘You go. I’ll be fine.’

  ‘If you need me, just shout.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘I’ll catch up with you later.’

  ‘Sure.’ She put on her best sparkly smile and took a gulp of the wine. It was time to mingle.

  ***

  To say she’d had a good time was an understatement, thought Daisy, as she shut and bolted the door behind her and wobbled her way over to the ceiling-height doors so she could stare out at the star-speckled sky. The same sky she had at home, same stars, same moon, which kind of made everything seem more familiar, closer. Or that could have been the wine talking. She hadn’t exactly made friends, but she felt almost like a little kid who’d been to a party. Exhilarated and a bit giddy (or again that could be wine) that she’d done it, got out there, talked to people.