She liked the idea. She wondered if her sisters would too.
30
Aries—Fire; Cancer—Water; Sagittarius—Fire.
Three weeks later Nessa, Cate and Bree arrived at Alicante airport. Once they’d collected their baggage they went to the car hire desk to pick up the keys of the car that Bree had already reserved. Nessa looked at her watch and worried that Adam wouldn’t get Jill to school on time, that something would go wrong with the arrangements for collecting her later (although she knew she could trust Jean Slater who’d volunteered for pick-up duty), that neither Adam nor Jill would eat properly while she was away.
Adam had been shocked when she told him about the holiday.
“You and your sisters!” He couldn’t keep the incredulity out of his voice. “Together? For a week?”
“It was Bree’s idea,” explained Nessa. “She wants to get away and, of course, Cate could do with a break and…” her voice faltered, “so could I.”
Adam didn’t comment on Nessa’s desire for a break but he did ask her how she proposed that Jill would be looked after.
“I thought you’d do it,” she said. “You’re her father.”
“Be realistic, Nessa. It’s not as though I can take the whole week off myself,” said Adam tersely.
“Why not?” asked Nessa. “We didn’t go on a family holiday this summer. You must have loads of time off to take.”
“We’re very busy.” Adam’s tone was patient.
“If I can get someone to pick her up from school and look after her till you get home then it shouldn’t be a problem, should it?” Nessa was surprised at how forceful she was being.
“I suppose not,” conceded Adam. “And if something comes up in the evening I can always get Ruth to babysit.”
“But nothing will come up in the evening,” said Nessa firmly. “Come on, Adam. It’s only a week.”
He sighed. “Oh, I suppose I’ll cope.”
“I know you will,” said Nessa.
It had been Adam who dropped them all to the airport. Nessa had felt extremely guilty as she waved goodbye to her husband and to Jill who was holding his hand and calling after her to bring back a nice present. It wasn’t fair going off and leaving them, she thought, as she followed Cate and Bree to the departure gate. It wasn’t as though they had any experience in fending for themselves. And maybe it wasn’t a good idea to leave Adam on his own. He hadn’t had the opportunity to meet women and stick his tongue down their throats over the past couple of weeks but her being away could change that. Yet she desperately wanted to be away. She wanted some time to be herself, not just Adam’s wife and not just Jill’s mother. So she put her fears and her guilt to one side and told Bree to count her in.
She’d felt guilty again during the flight although her horoscope in one of the collection of magazines that she’d bought at the airport had urged her to “broaden her horizons” and put “personal concerns ahead of other obligations.” She’d smiled wryly as she read it and remembered that she’d made a resolution not to look at them anymore. But she couldn’t help herself. She read hers and then Cate’s and Bree’s. They were all upbeat and positive. Even Adam’s was cheerful, she noted. It was telling him that he could find time to mix family responsibilities and fun. Not this week, she thought, as she slid the magazine back into her bag. This week it would be nothing but responsibilities for Adam Riley!
“OK, girls!” Bree turned from the desk with the keys to the car in her hand. “Let’s go.”
They’d arrived early in the morning and the sky was a pale, hazy white with a smattering of gray clouds moving rapidly eastward. During the flight the captain had advised passengers of a weather front moving across Spain but the sisters were hoping that they’d managed to avoid it and that the week ahead of them would be one of clear blue skies with nothing more taxing to do than lie on the beach and observe the local talent.
“Where’s it parked?” asked Cate as they dragged their cases across the road to the car park.
“On the upper level.” Bree consulted the diagram in front of her and strode onward.
“Are you sure you’re right?” asked Nessa when they’d reached the spot where Bree had told them the car would be and found it empty.
“Of course,” she said irritably. “It says here it’s—oh, sorry! I was looking at the wrong number. It’s over there.”
They pulled their suitcases across the car park to where the dark green Mondeo was parked. Bree unlocked it and they heaved their cases into the boot.
“Who’s going to drive?” asked Cate.
“Me,” said Nessa.
“You?” Bree looked at her in surprise. “I’ll drive.”
“Why?”
“Because I booked it, didn’t I?”
“But that doesn’t mean you should drive. You’re still injured.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Nessa, I’m fine now.”
“All the same—”
“Also, I’m used to driving here. I lived here, remember?”
“I know, I know. But that was ages ago. I just thought—”
“It really doesn’t matter who drives,” said Cate impatiently. “I will if you two are going to argue about it.”
“I’ll drive,” said Bree firmly. “You can drive tomorrow, Nessa. And you can drive the day after, Cate.”
Cate giggled. “You sound like a schoolteacher.”
“I feel like one.” But Bree chuckled. “Now get into the car and let’s have no more nonsense!”
They were all laughing as she reversed out of the space and drove carefully out of the car park and onto the main road. Nessa consulted the map.
“You have to turn onto the motorway,” she told Bree.
“I know what I’m doing,” her sister replied.
“Why are we going toward Alicante?” demanded Cate. “I thought you said this place was south of it, Bree?”
“It is,” said Bree patiently. “Trust me.”
“Oh, look!” cried Nessa. “Cartagena. That’s the direction, isn’t it? Turn now, Bree. Now!”
“I know. I know.” Bree accelerated and passed a tour bus as she left the motorway and turned south.
“It’s a nice idea, booking a place of our own and not having to worry about being with a gang on a tour bus,” said Cate. “Is the owner a good friend of yours, Bree?”
“Nope.” Bree shook her head. “I just knew her from the time I was here before so when I rang and asked about her place she said no problem. I haven’t been in it before but it sounds lovely. It’s a renovated farmhouse so it has all we need.”
“Except being close to the beach,” grumbled Nessa. “I still think it would’ve been better to do a package and get an apartment on the beach.”
“You’re so lazy!” cried Bree. “And this way you get to see more of the countryside.”
“It’s only a couple of miles inland,” said Cate. “That’s nothing, Nessa. We can drive to the beach.”
Bree flicked on the window wipers as a few spots of rain began to fall. Cate peered out of the window anxiously. “There’s a dirty great black cloud heading for us,” she told Bree. “I suppose it’s the weather front they were talking about. I hope it passes by.”
The rain grew heavier and heavier until it was drumming the roof and lashing against the windscreen. Bree slowed down and switched on her headlights.
“It did this when I was here before,” she told her sisters. “Kind of tropical really. It belted down rain for half an hour then the sun came out and everything was fine.”
She drove carefully along the increasingly greasy road. She hoped that the rain would ease off soon; it was difficult driving in these conditions and she didn’t want to miss her turn. A huge truck rumbled past, sending up a wave of rainwater which almost engulfed the car.
“Moron!” yelled Cate whose hand gesture, rather fortunately, was unseen by the truck driver.
Bree had the wipers on at full speed but they were making very l
ittle difference to visibility. She shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat and glanced at the milometer.
“Watch out for a small church coming up soon,” she told Nessa and Cate. “We turn at the church.”
A minute later both of them had spotted it and Bree turned off the main road and headed inland.
“Three kilometers up this road,” she said. “We pass a funny shaped tree and it’s in to the right. It’s signposted as Villa Naranja. After the orange trees, I guess,” she added as she nodded at the orange and lemon trees which grew either side of the road.
“I bet it’s lovely when it’s not raining,” said Cate. “This isn’t much of a road, is it, Bree?”
“It’s a minor road,” said Bree. “I suppose they don’t get a lot of traffic on it.”
A crash of thunder startled all of them.
“Bloody hell,” said Nessa. “This is obviously the middle of your tropical thunderstorm.”
“It sounds like it’s closing in,” agreed Cate.
“Keep your eyes out for the villa, will you?” pleaded Bree. “It should be soon.”
After six kilometers she stopped.
“What’s the matter?” asked Nessa.
“We should have seen it before now,” Bree said. “Dolores told me that it was exactly three kilometers from the turnoff. I’ve gone twice that far.”
“Maybe it’s a Spanish kilometer,” suggested Nessa. “Like an Irish mile.”
“Dolores wouldn’t say exactly if it wasn’t exact,” said Bree. “We missed it.”
“How could we miss it?” demanded Cate. “I was looking for a signpost.”
“Maybe it’s not exactly a signpost,” said Bree. “Maybe it’s just a small sign.”
“Do you want to turn back?” asked Nessa.
“Well, there’s no point in going any further. We’ll end up in the damned mountains.”
“OK,” said Nessa. “Let’s go back. We’ll watch out for anything that looks like a farmhouse.”
“It’s a small farmhouse,” Bree told her. “Not what you might be thinking of.”
“You told us about it at home,” said Nessa. “Renovated. Three bedrooms, living room, bathroom, kitchen, verandah. Can’t be that small.”
Bree looked cautiously around her as she turned the car. The road was narrow and twisting and she didn’t really want an oncoming vehicle to smash into them. But the road was deserted.
She drove back slowly.
“It’s not that ramshackle old place there, is it?” Nessa sounded worried as she pointed to an off-white building slightly back from the road with a collection of fallen roof tiles in the garden. “Your friend wouldn’t totally mislead you, Bree, would she?”
“I don’t think so,” said Bree. “It belongs to her family. It’s their holiday home. They’d hardly stay in it if it was falling to bits.”
“I still don’t see anything remotely resembling a farmhouse,” said Cate. “But there have been a couple of really narrow roads that might end up with a building at the end of them. Any likelihood it’s one of them?”
“I suppose so.” Bree rubbed the back of her neck. She was tired from the flight, tired from driving and anxious that they seemed to be lost.
“There! There!” Nessa exclaimed suddenly.
Bree slammed on the brakes and the car skidded gently to the side of the road.
“God, Bree, be careful!” gasped Cate. “We nearly ended up in the ditch.”
“Sorry.” Bree flexed her ankle which had hurt when she stamped on the brake. “Where were you pointing at, Ness?”
“Back up a bit,” directed Nessa. “See. The sign. Villa Naranja. Two kilometers.”
“Two kilometers!” cried Cate. “It’s in the arsehole of nowhere!”
“I told you we should have gone with a package holiday,” said Nessa. “Come on, Bree. Off you go again.”
The road that they were on was probably a dirt track during the summer. But now, with the heavy rain continuing to pound down, the sandy soil was soft and sticky. Bree felt the tires skid a couple of times and hoped that her sisters wouldn’t notice. The track twisted and turned and then, quite suddenly, opened out in front of a small, whitewashed building with a terracotta roof and a tiled verandah at the front. A ceramic sign on the wall said La Villa Naranja.
“It looks all right.” Cate sounded relieved. “Those flowers are pretty.”
The verandah was crammed with pots of brightly colored flowers, jostling for position along the edge.
“Great.” Bree sighed with relief and massaged the back of her neck again.
“We should probably just sprint for the house and come back for our bags when the rain eases off,” suggested Cate.
“You mean tomorrow?” asked Nessa tartly.
“It’ll ease off,” said Bree confidently. “It always does.”
“Come on,” said Cate. “Let’s go.”
“Bree got out of the car first. “Be careful,” she warned them, “the ground is really soggy and slippy.”
“Ugh!” cried Nessa as she followed Bree and slid in the mud. “My shoes are going to be ruined! And they’re my most comfortable pair.”
Cate stepped tentatively onto the muddy ground. “Oh shit!” she yelled. “This is really awful.”
“Don’t worry about it now,” said Bree. “Let’s just get in out of the rain.”
She slammed the driver’s door closed and hurried toward the farmhouse, followed by Nessa.
“Wait! Wait!” Cate stepped around the car and tried to follow them. But she suddenly found herself sinking into the mud. “I’m going to fall!” she cried.
Bree and Nessa, who’d both reached the verandah and were squeezing rain out of their hair, turned to look at her. Bree covered her mouth with her hand and Nessa bit down very hard on her lip. Cate was ankle deep in mud, her new white designer trainers completely covered. Her pale lilac trousers were spattered with the sandy-red clay and her hair was plastered to her head.
“Oh shit.” Bree’s shoulders shook with laughter.
“She’s pregnant,” said Nessa urgently although she was close to laughter herself. “She might damage herself or the baby if she falls.”
“Bloody hell,” said Bree. “Let’s rescue her.”
“I’m taking my shoes off first.” Nessa slipped out of her soft leather shoes which were already coated in mud and walked gingerly toward her sister. “Are you all right?” she asked.
“How could I be all right?” demanded Cate. “I’m up to my neck in this shit! I’m wet. I’m cold. And I can’t move!”
“Give me your hand,” said Nessa.
Cate reached out and took Nessa’s outstretched hand. Bree grabbed her other hand and both of them tugged. Cate’s feet came out of the ground with a squelching noise that had both Nessa and Bree shaking with laughter again.
“It’s not funny!” cried Cate.
“I know.” Bree tried to keep a straight face. “But you looked so—so—un-Cate like.”
“You’d look bloody awful too if you’d got stuck like that,” said Cate angrily. “Honestly, Bree, why didn’t you park a bit closer?”
“Because there’s a massive great puddle just ahead,” said Bree. “I didn’t want you to step out into a puddle.”
“But it was OK to step out into a quagmire?” demanded Cate. “My new trainers! They’re totally destroyed.”
“Come on, Catey, you probably got them for free.” Bree grinned at her.
“I did not!” snapped Cate.
“They’ll be all right once they dry out,” said Nessa comfortingly.
“No they won’t,” said Cate. “You can’t even see the uppers for the mud.”
“It’ll brush off,” promised Bree. “Honestly it will.”
“Huh.” Cate wasn’t convinced but she followed her sisters into the farmhouse. “We can’t walk anywhere,” she said. “Our feet are filthy.”
Nessa took some tissues out of her bag and they dried off as best
they could. Then they looked around them at the farmhouse and heaved a collective sigh of relief. All of them had been worried that it wouldn’t live up to expectations but the small living room was comfortably furnished in traditional Spanish style. The yellow sofa was covered in bright and cheerful multicolored cushions while a selection of modern prints hung on the walls.
“Not bad,” said Bree.
The three bedrooms were decorated in the same traditional style, each with a different vivid and lively color scheme. The enormous bathroom was tiled from floor to ceiling and the kitchen had everything they could possibly want.
“Thank God for that,” said Nessa as she flopped onto the sofa. “I had a horrible feeling that we’d been sold a pup!”
“Dolores isn’t like that,” Bree told her. “I said it would be OK and it is.”
“I know, I know,” said Nessa. “It’s lovely, Bree. Honest. And it’ll be great once the rain stops.”
“If the rain stops,” said Cate grimly.
“It’ll stop.” Bree glared at her sister.
“Of course it will,” said Nessa brightly.
“Maybe the thing to do would be to turn on the immersion heater so that we could all have showers,” suggested Cate. “That’ll freshen us up. And I’ll make some coffee.”
“Good idea,” said Nessa. “Where’s the immersion, Bree?”
Bree shrugged. “In a cupboard somewhere, I guess.”
They found it in the small utility room and Nessa flicked the switch.
“Shouldn’t that little light come on?” she asked Bree.
“I’d have thought so.” Bree peered over her shoulder.
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