“What? What did he say? Boat trip? Paella?”
“Just drop it, will you?” snapped Mum. She looked back over her shoulder, frowning slightly. “Listen, I’ve got to pop back to the room for a second; I’ve forgotten something. You two go ahead without me.”
It was busy by the pool. Nan nabbed the last two sunbeds and started to smother herself in cream. We actually tan quite easily, all three of us, but we weren’t used to this kind of heat. “Doesn’t the water look lovely?” she said. “I’d jump straight in if I was your age, Bee.” The pool did look tempting but I wanted to be by myself for a bit, to think about everything that had happened. I left her settled on her sunbed with her bumper crossword book and went off to explore.
It was even busier down on the beach, with almost every centimetre of sand covered in brightly coloured towels. There was a small cafe called Globo Rojo, with bright red balloons tied to every chair, a hut renting out deckchairs, two lifeguards up in a tall, wooden tower – and a long line of children running in and out of the water, shrieking and dashing back every time a wave came rushing towards them. I picked my way through the towels and down to the water’s edge.
I love being by the sea. I just love the feeling of space – the way you can look out across the waves and pretend it goes on for ever. Sometimes, when I’m stuck at school, I like to imagine that I’m far out in the middle of the ocean where no one can get me.
It only took me a few minutes to walk the entire length of the little crescent bay. I sat down for a bit, sifting sand through my fingers, thinking about Dad and how much he would’ve loved it here too. I tried to picture him over at Uncle Ron’s, spending time with my cousins when he should’ve been here with us. It just felt so wrong coming away without him.
We used to have family holidays when I was a baby and Aidan was twelve or thirteen. I’ve seen photos of us on a beach just like this one. I’m sitting in a hole in the sand and Aidan’s waving a spade about and Dad’s reaching for me, laughing his head off. He looks so young and happy, it’s difficult to believe it’s the same person.
A couple of children ran past me, chasing a frisbee. I swivelled round to see where it would land and noticed a girl, about my age, perched up on a rock, reading. She was incredibly pale, with short blonde hair tucked under a straw sun hat, and long legs drawn up to her chin. There was something familiar about her – nothing specific, just a feeling I’d maybe seen her somewhere before. I sneaked another look, trying not to make it too obvious, and then I realized: it was the girl from the airport.
I sat watching her for a bit. She was reading one of my favourite books, Five Children and It, by E. Nesbit. It was the perfect book to be reading on a beach; about five children and an extremely grumpy sand-fairy who can grant them a single wish each day – but only if he’s in a good mood. I don’t know anyone else who’s read it but it’s brilliant.
The other girls in my year tease me about loving books so much. Melissa Knight started it. She got them to call me “Bookworm Bee” and buzz around behind my back as if they’d just invented the world’s funniest joke. I thought they’d get bored after a bit, find someone else to make fun of. I even tried to laugh along with them, but that just seemed to make it worse. If I could make a wish, I’d wish for a new friend. Someone brave enough to stand up to Melissa Knight and all her stupid, brainless mates.
The children grabbed their frisbee and raced off, laughing. The girl on the rock hadn’t looked up once from her book, but I was certain she knew I was there. I was dying to talk to her but I didn’t want her to think I was stalking her, especially after what happened at the airport. I sat there for at least another five minutes trying to think of something to say that wouldn’t sound too desperate, and then forced myself to get up and go over.
“Are you from England?” I said, pressing my toes deep into the warm sand. “Only we met at the airport...you know, when we were getting our cases.” She didn’t say anything. She didn’t even blink. “Erm...I’ve read that b-book by the way,” I stuttered, wishing I could disappear. “Do you like it? It’s one of my favourites.”
She looked up then, squinting in the sun. Her face was small and pinched, her eyes the exact same colour as the sea.
“Yes, I am from England,” she said, waving the book at me. “And no, I don’t like it – it’s rubbish!”
I took a step back, surprised, and neither of us said anything for a moment. The silence seemed to go on for ages. I wracked my brains for something else to say but it was hopeless. I was about to turn away, head back to Mum and Nan at the hotel, when she shifted up suddenly, patting the space beside her and smiling. You’d never believe a smile, even a small one, could change someone’s face so completely.
“Look, why don’t you come and sit up here,” she said. “There’s loads of room. My name’s Lizzie, by the way, what’s yours again?”
“I’m Bee,” I said, scrambling up the rock, squashing up next to her. “Bee Brooks, from England.”
And even without a grumpy sand-fairy to grant me my wish, in a funny sort of way, it was as easy as that.
CHAPTER SIX
I’d noticed the girl sitting near my rock for ages before she came over; it would have been hard not to, with her wild, curly hair and gorgeous toffee-coloured skin. She was wearing baggy blue shorts with a white vest and she was so brown she looked as if she’d already spent three weeks in the sun.
She asked me if I was from England and if I remembered her from the airport. I did, of course – I even remembered that her name began with a B – but I didn’t say anything at first, or even look up. I thought she’d get the hint and go away but she just stood there, peering up at me, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand.
It seemed so mean to ignore her, but I knew Dad would go mad if he found out I’d been chatting to some stranger on the beach. And then suddenly it hit me. Dad wasn’t here; he was hundreds of miles away in England. My tummy flipped over. It was as if I’d been set free from prison. I could speak to whoever I wanted, whenever I wanted, and there was nothing he could do to stop me.
“Yes, I am from England,” I said, holding up the book. “And no, I don’t like it – it’s rubbish!”
She stepped back, staring down at her feet. There was this long silence – it seemed to drag on for ever. She looked so nervous, as if she wanted to sink into the sand and disappear. I don’t even know why I barked at her like that – it wasn’t exactly friendly. The last thing I wanted to do was scare her off.
“Look, why don’t you come and sit up here,” I said, smiling. “There’s loads of room. My name’s Lizzie, by the way, what’s yours again?”
She clambered up, her face breaking into a massive grin, and squashed up next to me on my rock. I felt like cheering. Dad would go ballistic if he ever found out, but I’d worry about that when it happened. I really couldn’t see what harm it could do – and anyway, who else did I have to talk to?
“Are you staying at the Bay of Caves?” she asked. “It’s the small hotel just up those steps at the far end of the beach.”
I twisted round, pointing. “No, I’m staying over there, on the other side of the bay at The Secret Cave. We always stay there, every year. Same hotel, same two weeks. It gets so boring you wouldn’t believe. How about you? Have you ever been here before?”
Bee shook her head. “I’ve never been anywhere. This is the first time we’ve had a proper family holiday since I was tiny and I’m twelve now!”
“Hey, I’m twelve too. What year are you in?”
“Just finished Year Seven, going into Year Eight. How about you?”
“Same,” I said. “Except I don’t go to school, worse luck, I’m homeschooled.”
She stared at me, amazed, as if I’d just said I’d won the lottery or something. “You are so lucky; I’d do anything to be homeschooled. Anything. I hate my school.”
“Lucky?” I cried. “You’ve got to be joking. I hate being homeschooled. It’s really grim. I’d s
wap places with you any day.”
“You wouldn’t, believe me, not if you went to my school.” She was quiet for a moment. “So why are you reading Five Children and It if you think it’s rubbish?” she asked, changing the subject.
“I have to read it. My dad chose it for me. He chooses all my books. He’s given me a list for the holiday and this was the first one – I started it at the airport.”
“What do you mean, he chooses all your books?” She frowned slightly as if she hadn’t heard right. “How does he even know what you’ll like?”
I shrugged, embarrassed. “He doesn’t really care what I like. He’s the one who homeschools me so he gets to decide.”
My phone buzzed in my pocket suddenly, making us both jump. “That’ll be my mum, checking up on me.”
“Is she really strict?”
“She’s not, but my dad is. He’s not actually here yet, but my mum still worries about me.”
I texted back that I was on my reading rock and that everything was fine and then stuffed my phone back in my pocket. I wasn’t about to mention Bee – Mum would only come scurrying down to make sure she was the right sort of friend for her precious daughter. She’s not nearly as bad as Dad but she’s too scared to go against any of his stupid rules.
We chatted for ages. Bee seemed really shy at first but the more we talked, the more she relaxed. She told me how much she loved reading, especially the classics. She said she liked to imagine she was living in the past, in one of those grand, old houses, like Estella in Great Expectations. “The girls at my school tease me about how much I love books and reading...” She hesitated for a moment, biting her lip, as if she was worried I might laugh at her as well, but I told her how much I loved reading too; just not the books my dad chose for me.
“Little Women is the only classic I really love,” I told her. “My dad forced me to read it for this literacy unit we were doing, but I’ve read it at least three times since then.”
“You’re kidding!” cried Bee, her face lighting up. “I love Little Women as well! Jo’s my favourite sister; she’s just so strong-minded and sure of herself. How about you?”
“I like all of them, to be honest,” I said. “I think it’s because I’m an only child and I’ve always dreamed of having a big family with lots of sisters!”
My eyes started to sting suddenly. Why did I say that? Why did I say I was an only child? I wanted to unsay it, stuff the words back in my mouth, but it was too late.
“I know exactly what you mean,” said Bee. “I feel like an only child too, especially since my older brother Aidan left home. He’s twelve years older than me so we haven’t really got much in common.”
“Do you still see him?” I said. “Do you text or meet up?”
She shook her head. “Not really. He doesn’t get on with my dad so he only comes round at Christmas and sometimes on my mum’s birthday. We used to get on okay when I was much younger, but he’s like a stranger these days.”
I thought about how the “real” Luke was a stranger to me too and pulled my arms even tighter around my knees. It was weird that we both had older brothers, but that’s where the similarity ended. Bee still saw her brother. He was still around. He might have fallen out with her dad and left home but he wasn’t dead.
I stared out across the sea, wishing I was somewhere else. I didn’t want to talk about Luke, or explain why we came here every year, but telling Bee I was an only child felt wrong, as if I was trying to pretend he’d never existed in the first place.
“What’s it like around here?” Bee said after a bit. “My nan said something about hidden caves.”
I dragged my eyes back to her face. “Well, there’s a boring old cave that all the tourists visit. They call it the ‘secret’ cave but it’s not really secret because everyone knows about it. And then there are these other caves just behind the cliffs. Cueva actually means ‘cave’ in Spanish. Hey, why don’t we go and explore tomorrow? We could meet up straight after breakfast if you like.”
Bee nodded, her eyes shining. “That would be amazing,” she said. “I’ll have to ask my mum, but I’m sure she’ll say it’s okay.”
We carried on chatting, swapping stories about our lives back home. It was so nice to be hanging out with someone my own age, talking about normal teenage stuff. I tried to think of a way of explaining about Luke so Bee would understand, but it was impossible to find the right moment. I didn’t really get why it was bothering me so much anyway; it wasn’t as if telling the truth would change anything.
When it got too hot we slid off the rock and ran down to the sea for a quick paddle. We held our arms out to balance, pressing our toes into the sand as the water surged over our feet and back out again.
“Doesn’t it feel lovely?” said Bee. “I’d love to go in.”
“Me too, but my mum would have a fit. I don’t know why she’s so worried about it; it’s completely safe, especially with the lifeguards watching...” I trailed off, looking over my shoulder at the two lifeguards on duty. They were both drop-dead gorgeous – tall and tanned, with dark glasses and long, sun-streaked hair.
“Hey, Bee, which one do you like best? The one in the red shorts or the one with the mega-muscly arms?”
Bee twisted round to look. “I don’t know,” she giggled. “Which one do you like?”
“Well, the one in the red shorts is taller, but the one with the muscles—”
“Oh my God, they’ve noticed us!” cried Bee suddenly, grabbing my arm.
“Dare you to wave at them!” I laughed. “Go on!”
“No way! They might think I need saving or something and how embarrassing would that be?”
“What do you mean, embarrassing? It would be brilliant! They might even give you the kiss of life if you’re really lucky!” I pretended to swoon, falling back into the sand. “Quick, call them over! I feel faint! I need some first aid!”
Bee started to laugh. “Stop it!” she said, grabbing my arm and trying to pull me up. “They’re still watching! Get up, before they come over!”
I jumped up and we skipped out of the water, racing back to my rock. I couldn’t believe I’d made a friend so easily – it was amazing. Bee was so nice and easy to talk to. I knew we’d only just met – and that Dad would be furious if he ever found out – but by the time Mum texted me again, asking me to meet up with her, and Bee went back to find her mum and nan, I felt really happy, as if I’d made my first real friend.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Nan was still sitting by the pool when I got back, with Mum curled up like a cat on the sunbed next to her, fast asleep. As soon as Nan spotted me coming up the steps, she put her finger to her lips to warn me not to wake her.
“She must have exhausted herself with all her worrying,” she whispered, tucking her legs up to make room for me on the end of her sunbed. “Did you have a nice time? I saw you perched up on a rock, chatting to someone.”
I nodded, smiling. “I met a really nice girl called Lizzie. She was a bit scary at first but once we started chatting we got on really well. She’s staying at the next hotel along, the really posh one, and we’ve arranged to meet up tomorrow, if that’s okay.”
“Course it is,” said Nan. “As long as you’re sensible. We’ll go up and get changed for dinner in a bit – you must be starving.”
I leaned back against her knees, turning my face up to the sun. “I love it here, Nan. Seriously, I’m so, so pleased we came. If only Dad was here to enjoy it with us, it would be perfect.”
Nan sighed, wrapping her arms round me from behind. “It’s a difficult time, but try not to get too upset. Sometimes you have to leave the grown-ups to do the worrying.”
“I know, but I wish Mum would tell me what’s really going on...”
“She will,” said Nan, pulling me closer. “Just give her some time.”
Mum didn’t want to go too far for dinner so we ate at the hotel tapas bar. Carlos showed us to our table, complimenting Nan on how lovel
y she looked.
“¡Qué bella!” he cried, looking her up and down. “You are like the English rose.”
“You’ve got an admirer there,” said Mum. “Perhaps Bee and I should sit at a separate table?”
“Don’t be daft, Val,” said Nan, turning scarlet. “He probably says that to all the ladies. It’s just the Spanish way.”
We ordered lots of little dishes from the menu – fried rings of squid, cod cooked with tomatoes and some strange-sounding sausage. I chose patatas bravas, chunky chips with spicy mayonnaise. Before the food arrived, Carlos brought over a big jug of sangria: red wine with chunks of fruit floating on top. “It’s for you,” he said, winking at Nan. “No charge for my pretty señorita.”
“He’s totally smitten,” said Mum, trying not to laugh. “My pretty señorita!”
I glanced across the table at Nan. She looked about five years younger and we’d only been here for a day. She probably needed the holiday more than any of us. She always tries to look on the bright side and stay positive, but it took her ages to smile again after my granddad Harry died last year. She’s the sort of person who puts a brave face on even when she feels like crying.
It didn’t take long for the food to arrive. Nan said the squid was the best she’d ever tasted, but I pushed the dish away when she offered it to me.
“I’ll stick to the potatoes, thanks,” I said, shuddering. “I don’t know how you can eat sliced up baby octopus. It’s gross.”
“There’s no need for that, Bee,” said Mum. She still seemed a bit tense, snapping at me for no reason, although she did nudge me every time Carlos found a reason to come over to our table. I wondered if she was missing Dad as much as I was, but I didn’t dare ask in case it put her in a bad mood again.
About halfway through the meal some Spanish dancers appeared, dressed in these amazing costumes and waving fans. They weaved in and out of the tables, snapping brightly painted castanets above their heads as they went. Nan started to sway from side to side, clicking her fingers and singing along.
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