Angie sniffed. She wasn’t to know that every time Selina had been there, she had ended up walking around it alone.
DAY SIX
Chapter 13
The plane zoomed smoothly upwards into a beautiful clear dark sky. The sun was peeping over the lip of the horizon and was preparing to blast Croatia with some serious rays. Selina found she didn’t need to grip onto Angie’s arm this time. She felt delighted to have rediscovered her flying mojo. Again they slept for most of the journey. Angie dreamed of having an ice-cold shower and using up a whole bottle of zingy lemon shower gel. She would have killed to be able to wash her lank, sun-wilted hair.
They landed at Dubrovnik just after eight a.m. There was an interminable time before the bus journey to Korčula and it was super-hot when they left the airport building.
‘I would love a shower,’ said Selina, raking her hair back from her face.
Angie gave her armpit a surreptitious sniff. The antiperspirant was working but it smelled awful. It was supposed to represent the scent of spring flowers, if the picture on the canister was anything to go by. It should have had an illustration of a tom cat spraying.
They hopped in a taxi to the city. The driver was young and drop-dead gorgeous. He drove with one hand dangling out of the window holding a cigarette.
Angie could not have imagined that Dubrovnik could be so beautiful. The city was surrounded by walls and there were hundreds of tiny back streets leading off the main central thoroughfare. The buildings were sandy-coloured with orange roofs and it all had a very ancient feel to it. The shops were pulling up their shutters to start trading. Selina opened up her mouth to speak but Angie butted in.
‘Please do not ask me if I want to go for a coffee.’
Selina closed her mouth again.
They wandered along the streets but within a short time they were forced to take refuge in a café from the heat. It was getting very busy too. Five cruise-ships-worth of visitors had been tipped into the city, or so someone on the next table was reporting to his companion. Soon the centre of Dubrovnik was full of fast-talking Italians, photo-snapping Japanese and ice-cream-eating Americans.
Selina started to salivate as a young child passed her with a three-scoop cornet. She picked up the menu on the table. ‘I’m going to have an ice cream for breakfast,’ she declared. ‘Want one?’
Angie looked at her as if she was mad. ‘Don’t be daft.’
Selina called over the waitress. ‘Could I have a banana, toffee and chocolate sundae, please.’
‘Make that two,’ added Angie.
‘What happened to “don’t be daft”?’ said Selina, leaning back in her chair.
‘I’m only having it to pass the time,’ she replied. ‘I have never been so fed up, sticky, sweaty and smelly in my life. Some holiday this is turning out to be.’
‘Well, we only have another four and a half hours to fill,’ replied Selina, looking at her watch. ‘Or eight coffees.’
‘Kill me now,’ said Angie burying her face in her hands.
‘Tomorrow all this will be a bad dream and we will be back on the ship.’
‘We have this bloke on our dinner table in the evening,’ said Angie. ‘He brings down sheets of jokes to tell us. He’s the most boring person on the planet but I’m even looking forward to seeing him again, that’s how bad things are.’
‘We’re on a table for two,’ said Selina. ‘Just Zander and I staring into each other’s eyes over our haddock en papillote.’
Angie picked up a tone in her voice that shouldn’t have been there. A cold brittle one.
‘He must be missing you,’ she said.
‘Madly,’ replied Selina. ‘But it won’t be long now until I see him on the shore of Korčula holding out his arms for me to run into.’
‘Quite.’ Angie tried to picture what Zander would look like now. A slight peppering of grey at his temples, a few George Clooney-type craggy lines around his eyes. He would suit ageing, she decided. A man like Zander Goldman would be in his prime approaching forty.
‘What does he do? For a job,’ she asked.
‘He’s the MD of an IT firm. Spends a lot of time in our flat in London.’
No surprise that they had a swanky pied-à-terre, thought Angie. ‘And you?’
‘I teach adults how to read.’
Blimey, that was a shocker.
‘Go on, say it,’ said Selina with a resigned sigh. ‘How can someone as selfish as me do something which involves helping people?’
‘I wasn’t going to say anything of the sort.’ Angie huffed with indignation.
‘Liar. The irony isn’t lost on me that I hated teachers and now I is one.’
Angie chuckled, against her will. Selina always had a great wit at school. It was one of the huge things she missed when their friendship split – laughing together.
The ice creams arrived and were enormous.
‘Okay, I have to admit that I thought you’d do something like… own a business selling really posh furniture or… breed horses,’ said Angie.
Selina dipped her spoon in the fast-melting sundae. ‘Haven’t ridden for years. I couldn’t get over losing Benji. Do you remember that sweet little pony I had?’
‘Yeah, course I do,’ said Angie. The one you didn’t give a toss about.
‘Came home from school one day to find that Mum had sold him and there in his stable was his replacement. The Antichrist of the horse world.’
Angie noticed that Selina’s head was turned down and her eyes were glistening.
‘My mother went ballistic because I wasn’t grateful. “Horses are like cars, Selina, not pets,” she said. I thought if I told myself enough times that I wasn’t bothered about him being sold, I’d begin to believe it, but I never did. I cried for weeks. And I hated that new horse. And he hated me. He’d throw me off at every available opportunity; completely made me lose my nerve. But he was something to brag about to Mother’s friends, so he stayed.’
‘Jeez,’ said Angie, feeling a twinge of guilt that she hadn’t spotted how upset Selina had been at the time. She hadn’t even considered she might be. Angie had been too wrapped up in childish jealousy that the Molloys were rich enough to buy their daughter a horse and she didn’t even seem to appreciate it.
Selina gave her eyes a secret dab. ‘Ice cream is lovely, isn’t it?’ She was forcing a smile out, Angie could see.
‘I’ll be as fat as a pig by the time I get back on the ship,’ said Angie. ‘I bet you haven’t been a yo-yo dieter.’
‘I work a lot of frustration out in the gym,’ replied Selina. ‘I’m alone a lot in the evenings so Pilates and Zumba classes fill the time.’
‘Where do you live now?’
‘Harrogate. Large posh house, as you might imagine. Tennis court, swimming pool, landscaped gardens – everything that you’d probably expect me to have.’
She doesn’t sound very happy about it, thought Angie, chewing on the cherry garnish. But how could you not be happy about having your own swimming pool?
‘There’s a Japanese man over there taking photos of us,’ whispered Selina. ‘Look to your left. No, that’s right, left you drip. Can you see him?’
‘He’s probably paparazzi,’ said Angie, leaning close to Selina. ‘Big story. I can see the headline now: Pair of female chumps miss ship. We’ll be famous.’
‘Not sure Zander will welcome that in the papers.’ Selina sneered. ‘He won’t be happy I’m drawing any attention to him by my antics.’
‘He will be happy to see you back safe and sound though, surely?’
Angie saw a dark cloud of sadness pass across Selina’s face as she opened her mouth to speak.
‘He won’t be able to contain himself when he sees me.’
The waitress bringing the bill to the table cut off the conversation. Selina whisked it up and studied it intently as if she needed something to concentrate on. ‘Just remembered, we need some kuna. I’ll go and change some euros at a bank.’
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br /> ‘I haven’t a clue where we are with money, have you?’ said Angie.
‘I’ve only bought bits of things with cash, you’ve paid the bulk of everything with your card. Just halve those expenses and I’ll write you a cheque when I get back on board.’
‘You’ve bought the equivalent of the flights in coffee and rubbish food,’ said Angie. She chuckled. ‘Why am I laughing? This will end up costing us about a thousand quid each.’
A loud giggle burst out of Selina. ‘It’s cost us a fortune.’
‘And look at us. People must think we’re a pair of tramps.’ Angie’s eyes started to water with laughter.
‘And we stink.’
They were both trapped in a loop of hysteria. Their ribs ached, their faces were wet with tears and they couldn’t speak. People on the next tables were staring, but Angie and Selina couldn’t stop.
‘Lord above,’ said Selina, drying her eyes on a serviette. ‘I haven’t laughed like that for years. Thank God I haven’t got any mascara on. It would have been down to my knees by now.’
Angie snapped a serviette out of the dispenser box on the table too. ‘Ridiculous,’ she said. ‘And we’ve still got hours to kill.’
Selina burst out laughing again. ‘Zander is going to be furious. I might stay here.’
‘I can’t wait to get back to Gil,’ said Angie, knowing that however much of a silly cow she had been, he would be there with a big smile, eager as a puppy to see her again.
They walked around a very busy and very hot Dubrovnik for what felt like forever before deciding to get a taxi to the bus station. They hailed one on the top road and climbed in and suffered a ride from a driver who had probably learned his skill from Grand Theft Auto. He had a cigarette in one hand, a mobile phone in the other and yet amazingly he still managed to sound his horn at everything on the road. Angie could feel the stirrings of another migraine by the time they alighted.
‘Forget aeroplanes; I can do them now. I have switched my fear to taxis,’ said Selina, as the car sped off and almost into the back of a bus. ‘What was he using to beep the horn?’
‘Don’t ask,’ said Angie, pressing her head.
They bought two tickets for the bus to Korčula. Their seats were allocated together. Apparently they would arrive on the island at quarter-past six.
‘That’s over three hours away,’ said Angie.
‘I see that maths class wasn’t wasted,’ smiled Selina.
‘Er, isn’t Korčula an island?’ Angie suddenly realised. ‘The bus can’t drive on water.’
‘There must be a bridge, surely,’ said Selina. ‘I’ll check.’
She went back into the bus station to ask and came back minutes later with a relieved look on her face. ‘Apparently the bus drives onto a ferry and takes us across the water. There’s a bar over there. Fancy a coff— beer?’ Selina mopped the sweat from her brow.
‘Might as well, there’s bugger all else to do.’
They ordered two very cold local beers and sat at one of the roadside tables under the shade of the striped canopy above their heads. The other seats were occupied by local men drinking, smoking pipes or cigarettes and reading newspapers.
‘That’s a pretty cross that you keep fiddling with,’ noted Angie, pointing to Selina’s neck.
‘I don’t even realise I’m doing it.’
‘Present?’ From the devoted husband? Then again, no. He’d buy gold, not silver.
‘Bought it for myself when I was thirty,’ said Selina.
‘White gold?’
‘Silver,’ replied Selina. ‘Always preferred it. It’s much rarer, you know. There’s a lot less of it about than gold.’
‘Never.’
‘It’s true. Silver is grossly undervalued. It’s a much better investment. Look it up.’
‘I suppose I should trust your word if you’re a teacher,’ smiled Angie.
‘You should.’ Selina smiled back and took a long sip from her glass.
‘So, do you enjoy teaching adults to read then?’ asked Angie. ‘Who do you work for?’
‘I work for myself,’ Selina returned. ‘It’s a small private school. We have contracts with local authorities and businesses as well as individual clients. We have very good and quick results. I developed my own system for teaching letter reading and it’s being used with a lot of dyslexic children. And yes, I love it.’
‘Wow,’ said Angie, impressed.
‘We have recently branched out into typing skills and shorthand and the Classics. The Latin has had an amazing response, and modern languages too: French, German, Italian and Spanish.’
‘Please don’t tell me you’re teaching Spanish,’ said Angie.
Selina’s lips curved into an amused arc. ‘No, but I might enrol in some classes when I get back.’
‘Sounds great.’
‘I’ve got a small flat above the school. I spend a lot of time there. It’s my favourite place to be,’ Selina said, pushing her hand through her golden waves of hair. ‘The school itself is about the size of Miss Dickson’s house, but it’s set in the prettiest garden.’
Miss Dickson was their old headmistress. She lived in a beautiful double-fronted Georgian villa next door to their old school. It had huge bay windows and ivy clinging to the stone walls. Angie had always thought it was the epitome of tranquillity. It was the sort of house she had always wanted. She could afford one now. That was a nice thought.
She wondered why a small flat above a school would be nicer to live in than a house with a swimming pool, but didn’t ask. Maybe when the fabulous Zander was in London, a big swanky house felt too lonely. That would be the obvious deduction.
They sat in companionable silence watching mad taxi drivers haring down the road, people boarding buses, the bar waiter zipping back and forwards delivering orders. It wasn’t very exciting viewing but it was easy on the eye and undemanding on the brain.
‘I think that may be ours,’ said Angie as a bus pulled into the station.
‘Last leg of the journey,’ said Selina standing up. ‘Come on, let’s bag a good seat.’
They were first on the bus but it was soon full to capacity. The air-conditioning was fierce to the extent that Angie had to take her grubby T-shirt out of her bag to wrap around her shoulders.
‘Chuffing hell, I’m frozen,’ she said. ‘I wish I’d stayed fat now. I wouldn’t be shivering as much.’
‘It is a bit nippy,’ Selina agreed.
Then they heard a very loud English male voice from the near front of the bus.
‘DRIVER. IT’S VERY COLD. AIR-CON-DISH-I-ONING. CAN YOU TURN IT DOWN? COLD. AIR-CON-DISH-I-ONING. BRRRR.’
The driver nodded and muttered something fast and unintelligible in return but he must have understood because the bus started to warm up.
‘God bless the British,’ said Angie, her eyes shuttering down.
Selina stayed awake to watch the beautiful scenery through the bus windows. She’d never seen this part of Croatia before. She woke up Angie when they pulled into a café overlooking the most gorgeous lake. The heat was furious when they left the tempered air of the bus. They had an ice-cold cola and sat in the sunshine, heads tilted to the sun.
‘Gorgeous here, isn’t it?’ said Selina, looking across at the blue-tinted mountains.
‘As gorgeous as Korčula?’ asked Angie.
‘Korčula is a jewel,’ smiled Selina. ‘I always wanted to stay overnight there.’
‘And your wish is about to be granted. Bagsy first in the shower,’ said Angie, downing the last of her pop as people started to file back onto the bus.
‘I shall enjoy it all the more for the wait,’ smiled Selina. ‘You take the window for the last part of the journey. Try to stay awake, the views are spectacular.’
The bus drove on to Orebic where it joined a line of traffic destined for the ferry. The passengers were allowed to get off the bus and stretch their legs. There was a bar in the heart of the boat and plenty of seats on deck. Th
e journey across the water took twenty lovely calm minutes. Then Angie and Selina were at last on Korčula Island.
They boarded the bus for the last part of their journey. Just before half-past six, they arrived at Korčula station and there was a tall grey-haired man waiting.
‘Oh, please be Emerick,’ said Angie.
He was.
He greeted them as if they were long lost cousins of the monarchy rather than two daft women who needed a bath.
‘Korčula is very busy. There are no hotel rooms spare at all,’ Emerick told them.
Angie imagined his next words:
So you will have to sleep on the roadside.
But instead, Emerick said, ‘I have a small flat, for four hundred kuna or fifty euros, if that is easier. I think it will suit you. Follow me, please.’
He grabbed their canvas bag and paced off with electric-powered legs up a hill whilst a wilting Angie and Selina tried to keep up. At the crest, he turned left down a narrow path and opened the gate of the third house, a white building with views directly over a boat-filled harbour. There were green wooden shutters at the windows and purple flowers in bloom everywhere they looked. He fitted a key in the lock and pushed the door open. The flat had two simply decorated small bedrooms, a bathroom and a kitchen with a sofa in it and a huge wooden display cabinet filled with ornate plates and crockery.
‘Is this okay?’ asked Emerick.
Angie had spotted the shower. Nothing else mattered. That alone rendered this place perfect.
‘It’s fantastic,’ said Selina, and she wasn’t exaggerating because she had also seen the shower, and lots of bottles of shampoo. ‘Shall we pay you now?’
‘No, it is fine. Tomorrow. I shall meet you here at ten o’clock. You cannot go straight back onto the ship. I will have to take you to the police station and then to customs before you get on the tender boat.’
‘Thank you,’ said Angie with weary gratitude. ‘Everyone has been so kind to us.’
Emerick smiled. ‘You can relax now. Go and have a nice meal and some of the local wine. Tomorrow you will be back on the ship.’
He shooed out a large ginger cat sporting a blue collar which had followed him into the house and was rubbing his cheeks persistently against his legs.
Here Come the Boys Page 7