‘Is good,’ he said. ‘Is better.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’
‘He has promised not to jump around stupidly again,’ said Catalina.
Even as both of us smiled, I knew we were having the same thought. That Xavi wasn’t the sort of boy not to do stupid things. But kids had to experience life. It was something I often said to parents when they turned up at the hospital with their bloodied offspring in tow. Arms and legs break. But they can be fixed. It’s the other things in life that are more difficult to repair.
In work, I have a reputation for being the kind of person who never shies away from the difficult stuff. Interacting with Rosa might be hard, but I had to do it. Even though we weren’t exactly friends, she had been friendly towards me. And despite the fact that her relationship with Pep must have been in the past, I might have been rattled too in the same circumstances. I didn’t want to feel that my history was repeating itself, however tenuously. And I didn’t want to feel guilty either. I was done with guilt.
Maybe I was getting in touch my chakras after all, I thought, as I sat down at the table nearest the door. Maybe I was following Mum’s advice and looking after myself a bit more. I glanced around. It was a quiet time of the day and only one other table was occupied. There was no sign of Rosa, so I picked up a Spanish gossip magazine that someone had left behind and flicked through it as I waited for her to appear. It wasn’t my imagination that she was still cooler and more offhand than she’d ever been before when she took my order. So when she returned to put the coffee and cake in front of me, I asked her if she had a moment to sit down.
‘Why?’ she asked.
‘I wanted to talk to you,’ I said.
‘I’m busy.’
I looked around. The occupants of the other table had two full glasses of Coke in front of them. I raised an eyebrow, and she shrugged before sitting opposite me.
‘I wanted to talk about Pep Navarro,’ I said.
‘Pep?’
‘Yes. The last time I was here you were obviously upset by the fact that he and I have become friends.’ I wasn’t going to say lovers. That sounded far too dramatic for a sunny afternoon.
‘Oh, that’s nothing.’ She tossed her head and her auburn curls glinted in the sunlight.
‘Really?’ I asked. ‘It didn’t seem nothing to me. And so I thought perhaps you and he might have had a relationship before, and you’re bothered that he and I are seeing each other now.’
‘Why would you think that? Why are you even asking me about it? It’s none of your business.’
‘You sort of made it my business by being rude to me,’ I said.
‘Oh, all right.’ She didn’t look at me as she spoke. ‘We had a thing for a while. But it wasn’t serious. I apologise if you got the impression I was rude to you.’
‘Your thing with Pep is over, but you don’t like to think of him being with me?’
‘Why should you care what I think?’ This time she looked at me directly. Her eyes were dark and angry, regardless of her words.
‘I just do,’ I said.
‘He’s a free agent. We all are.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘But you’ve been nice to me and I don’t want to . . .’
‘Don’t want to what?’ she demanded. ‘It’s too late. Everyone knows he’s completely under your spell.’
‘I’m not sure if—’
‘That’s the trouble with all you outsiders!’ she interrupted. ‘People who come to the town for a few weeks and think you’re part of it. Well, you’re not. You never will be.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘I do know. I’m not trying to be part of anything, Rosa. I’m just trying to . . . to get over something myself.’
I’d felt part of it, though. When I’d gone to the DIY store to buy varnish and paint. When I’d taken Xavi to the hospital. When I’d met Ana Perez. When the men had come to fix the roof. When I’d started work on the house. When I’d gone to dinner at the Navarros’. And most of all when I’d made love to Pep. I’d felt more than a tourist. I felt as though I belonged. But I didn’t. And I never would, no matter how long I stayed. I was kidding myself if I thought any differently.
‘I’m sorry.’ Her shoulders slumped suddenly and she looked at me with eyes that now held resignation rather than anger. ‘I’m taking it out on you, and I shouldn’t. It’s just that, for a time, I thought Pep and I might . . . that we were . . .’ She shrugged. ‘I was wrong.’
‘You’re very young,’ I said. ‘And there are plenty of men.’
‘That’s what my mum says.’ She made a face. ‘It doesn’t matter how right people are when they tell you stuff like that. About there being more fish in the sea. It’s how you feel inside that counts.’
‘How do you feel?’ I asked.
‘I know it’s over but I can’t get him out of my mind,’ she told me.
I could empathise with that.
‘How long is it since you were seeing him?’ I asked.
‘Eleven months, three days.’
‘Oh.’
‘I only remember it that accurately because we split up on my mum’s birthday.’ She smiled faintly. ‘Dad had organised a family dinner at the hotel, and when I invited Pep he . . . well, basically he said he wasn’t my family and that I shouldn’t think like that about him.’
‘Ouch.’ I was taken aback at Pep’s harshness.
‘Maybe he was right,’ she said. ‘Like you said, we were very young. We’re still young. It’s just that when you think you’ve found the right person . . . well, you don’t care about anything else.’
I knew exactly how she felt.
‘But if you want to go out with him, that’s entirely up to you,’ said Rosa, and her tone, while not warm, had lost some of its chill. ‘Even though he’s a lot younger than you. I’m fine with it, and I shouldn’t have given you a different impression.’
‘I don’t know what I want.’ I ignored the crack about my age. ‘My track history of relationships isn’t great, and before I came here . . . well . . . like you, I thought I’d found someone – but I hadn’t.’
‘What happened?’ She looked at me with undisguised interest, her voice suddenly a good deal warmer.
‘He was married,’ I said.
‘Oh.’
‘I didn’t know at the time.’
‘How did you find out?’
‘That doesn’t matter. What matters is, I did.’
‘And what about his wife? Did he have a family?’
I couldn’t tell her everything. Despite acceptance, it was still too hard and it still hurt too much. And I didn’t want her to have a worse opinion of me than she already had.
‘None of it is important,’ I said. ‘But I came here to get over it. And Pep . . .’
‘Was available to help.’
‘He was coming to the house to do the pool, and he’s very attractive.’ I sighed. ‘I didn’t realise there was anyone else.’
‘There isn’t,’ she said. ‘At least, I’m not the “anyone else”. Not after nearly a year. I should have realised that by now.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said.
‘Are you in love with him?’
‘I like him a lot,’ I replied. ‘But I don’t want to be in love with anyone right now. As for him, he’s young – and, as he said before, he’s not ready for commitment.’
‘All the same, he’s crazy about you,’ said Rosa. ‘It’s perfectly obvious. Everyone’s noticed.’
‘Hardly everyone—’
‘What did you expect?’ She stared at me. ‘You’re very pretty, and people can’t help being interested in how you’re living at Doña Carmen’s all on your own. You’re . . . well, you’re older and more experienced than most of the other girls in Beniflor. It’s no wonder he’s interested in you. After you did that Irish dancing stuff at the fiesta and he kissed you . . . well, that was that.’
‘It wasn’t much of a kiss,’ I protested. Then I thought about the rest of it, wha
t we’d done in the Villa Naranja afterwards and what we continued to do, and I sighed. I’d basically turned into the cougar who comes into town and has an affair with its most eligible bachelor. I was a walking cliché. And the idea of being gossip fodder chilled me. ‘You’re right,’ I added. ‘I’m too old for him.’
‘You’re not that old,’ conceded Rosa. ‘I mean, yes, you’re older than me. And him. But you’re not ancient.’
Deliberately or not, she’d succeeded in making me feel it.
Some more people arrived and sat down at a nearby table. Rosa got up to serve them and I picked up the magazine again. But I was looking at the pictures, rather than trying to understand the stories, when she returned and sat down again.
‘Are you thinking of consulting one?’ she asked as I put the magazine on the table.
I looked at her in surprise and she nodded at the Classified Ads page, which was open. Most of the notices were for fortune tellers, and I didn’t need to be able to understand Spanish to know what they were offering.
‘To find out if you and Pep are the real deal?’
I shook my head. ‘I don’t know how people can be persuaded to spend money on these charlatans. I mean, look at the cost per minute. And they don’t tell you anything you don’t already know. It’s a complete con.’
‘I’d never ring a premium line,’ said Rosa. ‘But a few of us go to Magda once a month. She’d change your mind about it. She’s brilliant. It might be a good idea for you to consult her.’
‘Who on earth is Magda?’ I asked.
‘She’s a psychic.’ Rosa’s tone was respectful. ‘She knows stuff that she couldn’t possibly find out unless she was in touch with some kind of spirit. She has a guide, of course. An Egyptian cat called Tetu.’
I couldn’t believe that the modern young woman in front of me truly believed this drivel. And I wondered what it was about Beniflor that kept pushing me in the direction of the kind of other-worldliness I knew was utter nonsense. Feeling watched at the Villa Naranja. Imagining that Brad wanted to communicate with me from beyond the grave. And now this psychic rubbish.
‘I can tell you think it’s silly,’ said Rosa. ‘But I swear that after a session with her you’ll change your mind. She helped me a lot after the split with Pep. She told me there were good things on the horizon for me, and there were. I did well in my end-of-year exams. I got the job in the café, even though lots of people were after it.’
But she clearly hadn’t told Rosa that I was going to show up and throw a spanner in the works, or that she’d be wracked with jealousy when Pep moved on to someone new. So not that much help, really. Rosa would have done well in her exams anyway. She’d have got her waitressing job too. Magda telling her that there were good things out there for her hadn’t changed anything.
‘Even if you don’t believe in it, it’s a great evening out,’ said Rosa when I remained silent. ‘We’re going to her the day after tomorrow. Why don’t you come?’
In less than an hour we’d gone from her hating me to wanting me to come with her to see a psychic. I supposed that was progress.
‘Why would I, when I don’t believe a word of it?’ I asked. ‘I’d only ruin it for you.’
‘Because you’re uncertain about your future,’ Rosa said. ‘You need to know how you feel about Pep. And Magda will help you. She’s good like that.’
I laughed dismissively as she got up to serve more customers. Then I flicked through the magazine again before stopping at the horoscopes. Obviously, I couldn’t understand a word of them either, but it suddenly occurred to me that I often read my horoscope in magazines, even though I think astrology is about as scientific as reading the tea leaves. I never remember what it says, of course. But I do know that my sign, Virgo, means that I’m supposed to be methodical and analytical, which was is obviously true for me. I’d once read that Virgos are often misunderstood, and I remembered feeling a little self-satisfied at that, because my most frequent refrain at home when I was small had been, ‘You just don’t understand me!’ But you can make your zodiac sign fit your personality in the same way as you can make your horoscope fit what you expect from the week ahead.
‘So?’ asked Rosa when she returned to collect my empty plate and cup. ‘Are you going to come?’
I didn’t want to upset her any more than I already had, and I was concerned she’d take offence if I said no. So I smothered my reservations and said yes instead.
‘Who else will be there?’ I asked.
‘Me, my mum, Carola from the TV shop, Esther from the pizzeria and Catalina Ruiz,’ she replied.
‘I just met Catalina in the street,’ I remarked. ‘She had Xavi with her.’
‘You see.’ Rosa gave me a knowing look. ‘You meeting her and now coming to see Magda with us. It was meant to be.’
I shook my head as I got up to leave.
I had no idea what my future was going to be. But I did know that it was going to be on my terms and my terms only, no matter what some charlatan might predict.
Pep arrived at nine in the evening, when I was sitting on the patio reading the last of the novels that the girls had bought at the airport. It was partly set in Andalucia during the war, which made reading it now doubly atmospheric. Every so often I thought about Pilar’s great-grandfather and the tragedy that had befallen him right here, in this garden. But it didn’t spook me. Nor was it making me feel as though I was being watched. It was just interesting.
Pep had brought some more of the Navarro wine with him and he poured me a glass.
‘What do you think?’
‘Lovely,’ I said.
‘Nearly as lovely as you.’ His English, especially his flattery, was coming on in leaps and bounds. My Spanish – despite the occasional phrases he’d taught me – was still pretty terrible. ‘You are thinking of your friends?’ he asked when I didn’t speak.
‘No.’ I turned to him. ‘I was thinking about Rosa Johnson.’
‘Rosa? Why?’ he asked.
‘Because I had coffee with her today.’
He said nothing.
‘We talked about you.’
‘I am sure I am not very exciting to talk about,’ said Pep.
‘Actually, it was very interesting. I didn’t know you’d gone out with her before.’
‘When we were younger,’ he said.
‘Until a year ago. So not that much younger.’
‘It was a big romance,’ he admitted, ‘but it was too much for me. She . . . she is a lovely person but she wanted it to be forever, and I am not ready for forever.’
He was still too young for forever. I said so.
‘I am young, but good for a mature woman,’ he told me.
‘I’m the mature woman?’
‘But yes. You are very mature. Mature women have more wisdom than younger women, no?’
It was a long time since I’d felt wise, and certainly not mature. And I wasn’t even sure I wanted him to think of me as mature. It was another way of saying old, wasn’t it?
‘I am sorry it did not go the way Rosa wanted,’ he remarked after a moment’s silence. ‘I still like her very much. But she was angry with me so we do not talk.’
‘From what she says you were quite harsh with her.’
‘Harsh?’
I picked up my phone and opened the dictionary app I’d downloaded.
‘Duro,’ I said. ‘You told her you weren’t her family.’
‘I did not intend to be harsh,’ he said. ‘I did not want to hurt her. I was just saying the truth.’
‘I think she’s over it now,’ I told him with a hint of satisfaction.
‘I am glad.’ His tone was relaxed. ‘And you?’
‘Me?’
‘Are you over what made you come to Spain and fall into my arms?’
‘I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘It’s complicated.’
‘Complicated I understand,’ said Pep. ‘But it is people who make things complicated, no? They do not have to
be.’
‘You might be young but you have a way with words,’ I said. ‘Even in a foreign language.’
‘You have helped me a lot with my English,’ he said as he put his arm around me and pulled me towards him. ‘As well as other things.’
And the rest of the night wasn’t complicated at all.
Chapter 21
If I believed in psychic coincidence, I’d have found significance in the fact that an email from my mother with links to her mindfulness and chakra sites arrived just before I headed out for the trip to Magda. (Rosa had utterly forbidden me to call her a fortune teller. She’d got quite snippy about it when I’d messaged her at the café to check what time we were meeting up.) Anyhow, whatever I felt about the concept of meditation – something I’ve tried from time to time but singularly failed to accomplish, as I simply can’t control the thoughts in my head – I was having none of Mum’s assertion that I should think of my chakras as internal batteries constantly recharged by cosmic forces. But I didn’t say that in my reply. I just thanked her for the links and then left my iPad charging its own internal batteries on the table.
Rosa’s mum, Bridget, was already at the café when I arrived, along with Carola, who was about the same age as me. They were chatting about the last visit, at which Bridget had been told that patience would be its own reward.
‘And so,’ she told us triumphantly, ‘I didn’t get on the decorator’s case but left him to it – and he came back with a much better proposal for the spa, which we’ll be going ahead with at the end of the season. Magda was right, as always.’
I kept my mouth shut. I wasn’t going to offend Rosa’s mother by saying that the running of a business shouldn’t be dependent on the advice of a bloody fortune teller.
The others arrived and we set off for the psychic’s apartment. I’d expected her to live in an isolated country house – perhaps one of the pinpricks of light that I’d seen when I was first driving to the Villa Naranja – but her home was on the top floor of a four-storey modern block at the edge of the town. The conversation as we walked to it was a mixture of English and Spanish, depending on who was talking – and although I didn’t understand everything they said, I got the drift, which was that Magda Burnaia had a real gift. A gift for conning people, I thought, even as I was getting slightly caught up in the general excitement. I warned myself not to leave my critical faculties at the door.
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