I nodded and went into the bedroom.
‘There’s a leak here too,’ I said before closing the door and changing into a dry T-shirt and shorts.
‘I will phone my home,’ said Pep when I emerged again. I will tell them of the . . . leaks.’
He took his mobile from his pocket. His conversation was rapid and intense.
‘My mother wishes that you come to us,’ he said.
‘I can’t, Pep. Really I can’t. I have to stay and make sure that the house doesn’t flood completely. You can see that yourself.’
He spoke on the phone again and finally ended the call.
‘She says I am to stay to . . . to take care of you.’
‘I can manage.’
‘You cannot be alone here with no power and a roof that . . . that . . .’
‘Leaks,’ I supplied.
‘Exactly.’
‘In that case you’ll have to get out of your own wet things,’ I told him as the rain dripped from his shorts.
He slipped his feet out of his trainers and smiled at me.
‘That’s not quite what I meant.’
‘I know.’
I laughed, suddenly exhilarated and no longer worried by the storm.
‘There are some old clothes in the cupboard on the landing,’ I told him.
He opened it, then looked at the threadbare T-shirts and grey cotton shorts. ‘These are not your clothes?’
‘They were here when I arrived.’
‘Possible they are Eduardo’s,’ he said as he took a white T-shirt from the pile and shook it out. ‘He is a big man.’
He peeled off his T-shirt, and I felt a shiver down my spine.
‘I’ll leave you in privacy.’ I hurried downstairs.
Banquo greeted me with a knowing look.
‘I can’t help it,’ I hissed at the cat. ‘He’s very sexy.’
A few minutes later, Pep followed me. He was wearing the T-shirt and a pair of grey cotton shorts. It didn’t matter that both were clearly too big for him. He looked amazing.
‘I have left the wet clothes in the bathroom,’ he said.
‘Right.’
‘I am not sure about these shorts.’ He pulled the drawstring tighter. ‘I am afraid they might fall off.’
I couldn’t speak. It was probably just as well.
He sat down beside Banquo and began rubbing his back. The cat rolled over and started to purr.
‘Coffee?’ I’d found my voice. ‘I can make it on the gas hob.’
‘Thank you.’
I think I just meant coffee. I can’t honestly be sure.
Sitting in the candlelit living room with Pep wasn’t exactly relaxing. At least, not until I remembered the bottle of red wine on the kitchen counter. I fetched it and poured us both a generous measure. It was very smooth and tasted very faintly of raspberries.
‘Frambuesa.’ Pep nodded when I said this to him, and when I looked surprised he laughed. ‘My English is good for fruit and things about wine,’ he told me. ‘Not so good for . . .’ he gave an annoyed shrug and gazed upwards, ‘water coming in.’
‘Leaks,’ I reminded him.
‘I do not know why I cannot remember that word,’ he said in exasperation. ‘It is not difficult.’
‘Teach me some Spanish,’ I said. ‘What’s a leak?’
‘Una gotera,’ he said.
‘Gotera.’ I repeated the word a couple of times. ‘And what about red wine?’
‘Vino tinto.’
‘And . . . rain?’
‘Lluvia.’
‘How do you say it’s lashing rain?’
‘I do not understand lashing,’ he said.
‘Raining a lot. Like now.’
‘Está lloviendo a cántaros.’
It sounded impossibly seductive when he said it, not at all like he was describing a downpour.
‘I wonder when it will stop this lloviendo a cántaros,’ I said, trying to mimic his accent.
‘Tomorrow morning,’ he said. ‘That is what they say.’ He smiled at me. ‘You speak Spanish very well.’
‘I don’t speak it at all,’ I reminded him.
‘But when you say the words, they sound very good. And you learned bisagra before. I do not remember the English for it.’
‘Hinge,’ I reminded him.
‘Ah, yes. Hinge.’ He nodded. ‘I will teach you more, if you like.’
‘I should learn,’ I agreed. ‘But I won’t be here long enough for it to really matter. All I need is “yes” and “no” and “please” and “thank you” and “have a nice day”.’
‘Qué tengas un buen día,’ he said.
‘That’s “have a nice day”?’
He nodded.
I repeated that too.
‘I will make you into a Spanish girl,’ he teased. ‘Word by word.’
He was looking straight into my eyes. And I was looking into his. We both leaned towards each other. And then he kissed me.
‘What’s a kiss?’ I gasped.
‘Un beso.’
He kissed me again. His kiss was passionate and demanding, and I kissed him back in exactly the same way. And then he was sliding the strings of my top from my shoulders and I was pulling the too big T-shirt from him, and he pulled me to him even as I wrapped my arms around him. I was shaking with desire. I wanted nothing more than to make love to him on the old and very unromantic sofa of Doña Carmen’s living room, but Pep suddenly scooped me up in his arms – at the same time grabbing the torch, which he’d left on the floor beside us – and carried me up the stairs to the bedroom, where he dropped me gently on to the bed.
It gave me a moment to think.
‘And the Spanish for condom?’ I asked.
‘Condón,’ he said, without a moment’s hesitation.
‘In the bathroom. In the bag beside the sink.’
He walked out of the bedroom. I had a couple of moments to ponder on the fact that I was going to have sex with the hot young Greek god, after all. And that I was really, really excited about it.
Pep returned with the packet of Durex that had been in my toilet bag ever since I first went to Belfast to be with Brad. I’d gone back on the pill when I’d started seeing him but hadn’t been on it long enough to be one hundred per cent sure of its effectiveness, so I’d brought the condoms with me. There were three left.
‘Just the right number.’ He grinned as he took one out of its wrapper.
I wondered if he thought I was some wanton Irish hussy who’d arrived prepared for a sexual adventure with a Spanish hunk. I didn’t care. There’s a bit of an assumption that every woman wants to be in a proper loving relationship before she sleeps with someone, but of course that’s not strictly true. The first time I slept with Sean I didn’t know I’d end up engaged to him. It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. But the first time I’d slept with Brad . . . that had been very special. To me. Clearly not to him.
I put my past lovers out of my head. In the present, Pep Navarro knew exactly what he was doing, and I lost myself completely in the pleasure of it all. Then we did it all over again before he rolled on to the bed beside me and sighed deeply.
‘That was good,’ he said in a voice replete with satisfaction.
‘Not bad,’ I agreed.
He laughed. ‘Better than not bad. Wonderful. For me. I hope for you too.’
‘Oh, yes,’ I said. ‘For me too.’
And then, even though there was one condom left, I closed my eyes, leaned my head against his shoulder and fell asleep.
I was once told that we always dream when we’re asleep, it’s just that sometimes we don’t remember. I certainly remembered nothing when I opened my eyes again. As always, the effectiveness of the shutters meant that I’d no idea what time it was, but I doubted that I’d been asleep for too long, even if I couldn’t recall a dream. After all, that was what I was used to. Asleep for fifteen minutes. Awake for an hour. Repeated over and over, throughout the night, so that I wa
s always tired when I got up. But I didn’t feel tired now. In fact, I felt wide awake.
I realised that the constant drip, drip of the water into the saucepan at the end of the bed had stopped, and I wondered if it was the silence that had disturbed me.
I sat up and stretched my arms over my head, then got out of the bed and opened the shutters. Bright sunlight poured into the room and I blinked in surprise. After the violence of the previous day’s weather, I couldn’t quite believe that the sky had returned to its former cloudless blue state, and that the sun was as hot as ever. And then I remembered Pep Navarro. And that I must have been asleep all night with a man I hardly knew in the bed beside me.
But I was awake now.
And he was gone.
Chapter 14
I got dressed and went downstairs. As soon as I walked into the kitchen, Banquo jumped delicately from the recycling box and headbutted me on the legs.
‘So was it a dream?’ I asked as I scratched him under the chin. ‘Did I sleep with Pep Navarro last night? Or am I going crazy?’
Banquo purred loudly. I opened the kitchen door and he went outside, immediately sitting in front of his empty food bowl. His needs came before everything, so I took the bag of dried cat food from the cupboard and filled the bowl. Then I filled another with water from the outside tap.
I saw the note when I went back inside. It was beneath a glass on the drainer beside the sink.
I have to leave at this moment, Pep had written in a bold, decisive script. I do not want to wake you. You look very tired. But very beautiful. Will return later with man to fix roofs.
OK, I told myself. It wasn’t a dream. I’d had sex for the first time since Brad’s death. And, from what I could remember, it had been pretty sensational sex. In fact, possibly the best sex I’d ever had. I liked Pep, I really did. But I didn’t want to get involved with him. I wasn’t ready for that. And it would be so damn complicated . . . and then I reminded myself that I was done with involvement and complications, and that Pep and I didn’t have to be anything more than fun in the sun.
I was relieved to see that the power had been restored, so I made myself a cup of coffee and took it outside. Banquo watched me as I sipped it. I wondered if he was making a moral judgement on me and my desire to have uncomplicated sex.
‘It’s none of your business,’ I said while he continued to stare at me. ‘You don’t have any say in the matter.’
I finished the coffee, had a quick swim in the pool and was getting dressed again when I heard the bell at the gate ring. I hurried to the front of the house. There was a small van outside. But it wasn’t Pep’s. Two older men got out and started talking in unbelievably fast Spanish at me.
I looked at them helplessly for a moment and then one of them said, in very broken English, that they were here for the tiles. I realised they were the people Pep had arranged to come and repair the roof, and I was impressed by the speed of their arrival. He could only have called them earlier in the morning, yet here they were already.
I buzzed them in, and after the older of the two had parked the van I showed them upstairs. It occurred to me, as we stood in the bedroom, that I hadn’t asked for any ID and that I hadn’t a clue who they were, but they weren’t paying any attention to me. They looked at the pots and then at the water-stained ceiling and nodded a few times. Then they went back to their van and took out some ladders. Less than fifteen minutes after I’d let them in, they were scrambling around on the roof.
It was about ten minutes later that Pep himself arrived, this time accompanied by an older man and a woman around the same age as Ana Perez. He introduced them to me as his parents, Elena and Miguel.
‘It’s nice to meet you,’ said Elena as she leaned forward and gave me a continental double kiss. ‘The storm was terrible. I’m glad Pep stayed with you and that you did not have to face it alone.’
I felt my face redden and hoped she’d put it down to the fact that we were standing in the full sun, not because I was remembering what Pep and I had done together.
‘The Jimenez brothers are good builders,’ said Miguel. ‘They will fix it for you.’
‘Um . . . there’s just one thing,’ I said. ‘I’m not sure how much it will cost and—’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that,’ said Elena. ‘I phoned Ana Perez earlier and she was horrified to think that you were stuck in a house with the rain coming inside. She was very distressed that she’d been here with you and hadn’t noticed a problem.’
‘I was fine,’ I assured her. ‘And Pep was . . . very comforting.’
Pep grinned and Elena turned to her husband. She said something to him in Spanish and he walked over to the house and began talking to one of the men on the ladder.
‘You should come to eat with us tonight,’ Elena said to me. ‘It is not good to be too much on your own.’
‘I don’t—’
‘You must,’ Pep said. ‘I will collect you.’
‘We will eat early,’ said Elena. ‘Half past eight?’
‘Well . . .’
‘Excellent,’ she said.
Her husband rejoined us and spoke to her again, then Elena said that the builders would be finished with the repair work in a couple of hours.
‘Thank you,’ I said.
‘It is no problem,’ she said. ‘Ana would not allow me to leave you in a house that is open to the skies.’
Which was a bit of an exaggeration, but I smiled at her, anyhow.
‘I will see you at eight,’ said Pep.
‘Your mum said eight thirty,’ I reminded him.
‘For eating,’ he said. ‘I will collect you before then.’
‘OK.’
He kissed me then. Very chastely on each of my still hot cheeks.
Pep arrived at eight o’clock exactly. I’d changed into my only non-sundress dress – a multicoloured Ted Baker sheath, which had once been a little tight but was now a perfect fit.
‘Guapísima,’ he said when he saw me, and I didn’t need him to translate the word.
This time his kiss wasn’t in the slightest bit chaste, and neither was my response. We moved from the garden to the bedroom in a few seconds, and the sex was quick and frantic and absolutely brilliant.
‘Your mother will be wondering where we are,’ I said as I got dressed again.
Pep shrugged and ran his fingers through his hair. I brushed mine and reapplied my lipgloss.
‘Even more beautiful now,’ said Pep. ‘You have colour in your face.’
I felt myself blush, which probably turned it even redder.
I’d expected Elena and Miguel to be waiting for us to arrive, but when we walked around the house – a large, well-maintained finca – there was already quite a gathering in the garden, and Pep’s parents were laughing and joking with them.
‘My family,’ said Pep.
‘I thought you only had a brother and a sister here!’ I exclaimed.
‘And aunts. And uncles. And cousins. And their children.’ Pep grinned. ‘This dinner was arranged a long time ago. We are honoured you could join us.’
I counted a dozen people, excluding me and a group of children whose ages ranged from about four to ten.
When Elena spotted me, she hurried over, did the kissing thing and then asked if the work had been finished on the roof.
‘It didn’t take long,’ I said. ‘They were great.’
‘Good,’ said Elena. ‘I didn’t want to think of you in the house on your own when it might rain again.’
I glanced up at the cloudless sky, and she laughed.
‘It may rain,’ she said. ‘It does sometimes. Now come and meet the rest of the family.’
Suddenly I was in a whirl of introductions and kisses and good wishes. It was entirely stereotypical, I thought, everything I imagined a Mediterranean family gathering would be. Everyone was talking loudly and at the same time, and although I didn’t understand most of it, I could tell it was good-natured and cheerful.
> Then Elena led us around a corner, and my heart stopped. Because although the table was long enough to cater for everyone, the setting – with its green parasols and pergolas and tiled terrace – was achingly similar to the last photo Brad had sent me. Of the dinner he’d been going to with Alessandra and Dylan. The dinner I’d thought had been with family and friends, but not a wife and son. It was as though I’d been jerked back into a place I thought I’d left behind. And it was like a hammer blow.
‘Are you all right?’ Pep looked at me curiously.
‘I . . .’
‘Is something wrong?’
I took a deep breath.
‘No,’ I said. ‘Nothing’s wrong.’
But all during dinner, even as I fixed a smile on to my face and reminded myself that I had moved on enough to have sex with someone new, I was as hollow as ever inside.
It was after midnight when I got back to the Villa Naranja. This time, because we’d all had wine at dinner, I walked. I hadn’t realised that it was possible to access the Navarro finca from Doña Carmen’s house, but there was a narrow trail through the orange groves. It wasn’t used much, Pep told me as he unlocked the gate in the boundary fence so that we could pass through, but it had been useful in the past.
As we walked past the jacaranda tree I thought of that past, when Pilar’s great-grandfather had been hanged in the garden, and I shivered.
‘You are cold?’ Pep sounded surprised.
I shook my head and scratched the mozzie bites that I’d suffered in the walk through the trees.
‘Was it too . . . too . . . too many people for you at dinner?’ he asked. ‘You are tired?’
‘No,’ I replied.
‘Because we try to speak English but not always, and this is a little rude,’ he added.
‘You were all lovely,’ I assured him. ‘And I think I’m starting to understand some Spanish.’
‘You seemed sad,’ he told me. ‘I do not want that you are sad.’
‘I’m not . . . well, yes, I am a bit sad,’ I said. ‘Before I came here, things went wrong for me. And sometimes I still feel . . .’ I shrugged. I didn’t really know what I felt.
Pep put his arm around my shoulder and didn’t say anything else until we were outside the door of the house.
The Hideaway Page 14