by Lilac Mills
Chapter 31
In the end, Sophie chickened out of phoning Alex. Time was getting on and she had to fetch Hugo soon. Besides, she had to prepare what she wanted to say. She didn’t want to make it sound as if the visitor had rattled her (although he had) or that she was worried for Hugo’s safety (although she was). The man – and she wished she’d thought to ask his name; she’d call him Slimy Guy for now – hadn’t actually said anything untoward. It had been implied. Or she’d imagined it and had taken an innocent remark the wrong way. But she still felt she ought to tell Alex that Slimy Guy had paid Hugo a visit. He needed to know. And she was desperate to hear if Alex had any ideas on how to help Hugo.
Oh, don’t kid yourself, her subconscious piped up; the only thing she was desperate for was to hear Alex’s voice again, and calling him about Slimy Guy was just an excuse to do exactly that. But she’d do it later. He was probably at work now anyway. It might be better if she called him after dinner. She’d take Paco out for his walk and phone Alex then.
Heart thudding at the thought of speaking to him, she typed the number into her phone, carefully put the address book back where she’d found it, locked up and went to collect Hugo.
Hugo, bless him, was happier than she’d seen him for a while, and she hated to put a dampener on his buoyant mood. She suspected the bottle on the table might have had something to do with his high spirits, and she seriously debated whether she should mention Slimy Guy’s visit; but if she didn’t and Hugo found out, then she’d have a devil of a job explaining why she didn’t tell him. After all, she wasn’t supposed to know about the offer or Hugo’s financial problems.
‘Someone popped by the villa while you were out,’ she said, trying to make light of it. ‘A man. I didn’t catch his name, but he said he was from a company called The Zykov Corporation. He asked whether you were considering their offer and wanted to tell you they won’t offer any more. He also sent you his best wishes after your operation.’
She concentrated hard on looking at the road ahead and not at Hugo, but at the mention of TZC she saw him stiffen out of the corner of her eye, and when she eventually glanced across at him she noticed how pale he’d become.
‘Did this man say anything more?’
‘No, that was it.’ She continued to keep her tone light, but it was getting to be a bit of a strain and she was worried her expression might give the game away.
Hugo said nothing further and the journey continued in silence.
He seemed older suddenly, as he got stiffly and carefully out of the car, and she worried that the news had set his recovery back. But she didn’t mention her concerns. Instead she set about making dinner, leaving him sitting in his favourite chair and staring out of the window.
‘Right, I’m taking Paco for a walk,’ she said, calling the dog to her and picking up her phone.
‘It’ll be dark soon,’ Hugo said.
‘Yes…?’ She often took the dog for a quick walk at night. This was nothing new. So why the concern?
She guessed he might be feeling vulnerable, that maybe he’d pushed his problems to the back of his mind to concentrate on getting better, and her news had brought them to the surface once more.
‘I’ll be fine,’ she assured him. ‘We’ve done this loads of times before. I can hardly get lost, can I?’ The coastal path was linear, and as long as she stuck to it there wouldn’t be a problem. She had no intention of clambering over any rocks in the dark, and to the other side of the path was either a wall shielding the banana plants from the wind, or rubble where the wall had collapsed. ‘Besides, if I do, Paco will lead me home.’
‘Keep him close,’ Hugo said, and she nodded thoughtfully.
Maybe she hadn’t misheard or misunderstood Slimy Guy after all, she mused. Hugo did seem genuinely concerned, so perhaps the threat she thought she must have imagined had been real?
On second thoughts, this wasn’t a thriller. This was real life. TZC was an international company, with rules and regulations. They weren’t the Mafia; they were an organisation with a business proposition and a profit to make. She was being silly, and Hugo was worrying over nothing.
She went over to him and gave him a kiss on his whiskery cheek. ‘I’ll be careful,’ she promised, ‘and I won’t be long.’
However, once she was out of the garden with its high stone walls and formidable iron gates, she couldn’t help glancing around cautiously.
There was no moon this evening, so the night was a dark one, and cloudless too, she judged, from the number of stars glittering overhead.
She breathed deeply, peace washing over her. No one was anywhere near, and although on other nights she sometimes heard people passing the villa heading for a night out or going home after one, tonight she heard nothing. The only indication of other people was the distant rumble of traffic from the road, the twinkling lights from Playa de la Arena behind her and the dot of light from the farmhouse. Alcalá wasn’t visible from here, but the glow from the village could be seen, and she made her way towards it, aiming for the headland. That was as far as she went on her nightly walks, and when she reached it, she found her favourite rock and sat on it, Paco by her side.
Steeling herself, she took out her phone and stared at it for a moment before she plucked up the courage to call the man she thought she had inadvertently fallen in love with and missed so much it hurt.
It was daft really, since she hardly knew him, and they’d only met a short while ago. How was it possible to fall in love under those circumstances, she wondered? But she had, and now she was paying the price for it.
Her heart thudding, she pressed the green icon and listened to the phone ring, realising she was trembling as Paco whined in her ear and shuffled closer.
About to give up and end the call (she wasn’t sure whether she was relieved or disappointed), she inhaled sharply when she heard it connect and a voice said, ‘Hello?’
It was him, Alex, and she blinked back a sudden rush of tears when he spoke.
‘It’s Sophie,’ she replied hesitantly.
There was a pause, then, ‘Is everything OK? Is Hugo all right?’
She could hear music in the background and the sound of laughter. A woman.
‘Hugo’s fine,’ she said, wishing she’d never called. She should have sent him a text instead…
‘What is it?’
Clearly it didn’t occur to him that she’d call him just for a chat or to hear his voice – but then why would it? And he was correct, that wasn’t why she’d phoned him.
‘A man came to the villa this afternoon. Said he was from The Zykov Corporation. He asked if Hugo was considering the offer and said that they had no intention of raising it higher.’
‘Oh, I see. What did Hugo say?’
‘He wasn’t there. I told him later.’
‘Does that mean Tío is aware you know?’
‘No, he doesn’t know I know.’
‘Did this man say anything else?’
Sophie hesitated, debating whether to share her concerns. Deciding against it, she said, ‘No, that was it.’
‘What did Hugo say when you told him?’
‘Nothing. He went very quiet and withdrawn. And he’d been having such a good time with his friends. I’d taken him to Tamaimo to play cards.’
‘And drink lots of vino tinto, I expect.’
‘Yes, I did spot a bottle of wine on the table when I dropped him off.’
‘Just the one?’ Alex’s laugh sent tingles down the back of her neck, and she shivered.
Getting back to business, she asked, ‘Do you have any news?’
A pause. ‘I might, but I don’t want to share it with anyone until I am certain.’
Anyone – he’d referred to her as ‘anyone’. The ache in her chest made her cough, and she cleared her throat.
‘Right. Good. I’ll… um… leave you to it,’ she said. ‘I just thought you should know.’ She listened to more female laughter in the background and she fel
t like crying.
‘I’m glad you did,’ he replied. Then he lowered his voice to add softly, his words clearly meant for her ears only, ‘I’m really glad you did. How are you? How have you been?’
‘Good, I’m good. Getting on with things. Hugo’s good. Recovering nicely. Becoming stronger every day.’ This was awkward and painful, and she might as well be talking to a stranger.
‘I mean, how are you, pequeña?’
‘Great. Fine. I’ve… um… got to go. I don’t like leaving Hugo for too long – he worries about me being out here on my own at night, you see.’
Neither of them mentioned the obvious fact that the beauty of a mobile phone was that it was mobile. She could just as easily have walked and talked at the same time.
Instead, Alex said, ‘Where are you?’
‘The headland where the surfers – sorry, bodyboarders – usually are.’
‘It’s not safe,’ he said, ‘especially at night. You might fall and break a leg, or—’
‘I’m fine. I come here a lot. To think and stuff.’ She very nearly told him that she’d sat in this same spot on the day he’d left the island, watching planes pass overhead and wondering which one of them was taking her heart away.
‘You’d better get back. You don’t want Hugo to worry,’ he said, and she took the hint.
He was done talking with her. He probably wanted to get back to his lady friend, the one with the tinkling laugh. And she wondered whether he was at a party, or was it a party just for two?
‘I’ll speak to you soon,’ he promised. ‘When I have more news.’
‘OK. Bye.’
‘Hasta la vista, pequeña,’ was his soft reply, before the phone went dead.
She looked at the screen for a while, then she stood up and walked slowly back to the villa, and with every despondent step she couldn’t help wondering why he’d called her ‘little one’.
Chapter 32
‘I am going shopping,’ Hugo announced one morning a couple of weeks later. ‘I need to buy food for our special dinner. I will get the best fish, the freshest. Es magnífico.’ He kissed his fingers. ‘You will enjoy and ask for more, like your Oliver Twist, yes?’
She smiled at him indulgently. He was trying so hard to be upbeat, but she could tell from the deepened lines around his eyes and the permanent frown on his brow that he was worried.
‘You will come with me?’ he asked, and she nodded. She loved shopping for food and seeing all the weird and wonderful things that weren’t to be found in her local branch of Asda. And the abundance and variety of fresh meat and fish was quite astounding.
‘Bueno.’
Following his progress across the living room and into the hall with narrowed eyes, she wondered how much time he had left before TZC’s offer was withdrawn. The company wouldn’t wait forever, and as Slimy Guy had said, they had other options. Hugo’s villa and land probably weren’t the only locations they were considering.
She was still torn about the whole thing. On the one hand, she knew Hugo couldn’t survive financially for much longer the way things were. On the other, she hated the thought of the villa being demolished to make way for a soulless hotel. But what else was he supposed to do?
She wished she was in a position to buy it off him, Maybe if she found a job, she could suggest that she’d continue to live at the villa and pay rent. Would that help? It might, she mused, but it wouldn’t solve the problem of those fields going to ruin, would it?
She was having increasingly frequent conversations with herself like this one, but despite all her pondering and planning, she wasn’t getting anywhere.
‘Do you want me to drive?’ she offered, when he emerged from his bedroom having changed into a pair of trousers and a clean white shirt.
‘No, I shall drive.’ Hugo had driven for the first time since his operation only a couple of days earlier, and now that he’d got his independence back, he seemed determined to enjoy it to the full.
‘Where are we going?’ she asked as she slid into the passenger seat.
‘Playa San Juan. There is a pescadería, a fish shop, at the marina, and I need mussels and clams, vieiras, gambones, shrimp and lobster.’
‘Vieiras?’
‘Sí, er… like the shell.’ He made a fan shape with his hands and Sophie took a guess.
‘Scallops?’
‘Yes, and gambones are prawns. We will have all this for the fish stew I will cook for you.’
Playa San Juan was a bustling town with a working harbour and Hugo found a parking spot within view of it. It was a gorgeous day, with the sun sparkling off the sea and small boats bobbing in the marina. It would be a nice place to live, she mused, wondering how far away Dominic’s apartment was. It couldn’t be far, because she remembered seeing the sea from his balcony.
She could see a stretch of sand and people sprawled out on towels, while others paddled and swam near the shore. Seeing them reminded her of the last beach she’d visited. It had been with Dominic and she wondered what he was doing this afternoon. She’d not spotted anyone in the water off the headland, because the waves were too small, and she hoped he might be in Mrs Tiggywinkle’s. She’d not seen him for a few days, so she’d pop in later – it was good to keep in touch since she’d be sharing a kitchen with him in the not too distant future.
Hugo drove into the parking space, and Sophie dashed around to the driver’s side as he carefully levered himself out of the seat, in case he needed a bit of extra support. He brushed her off with an impatient wave of his hand, using the other to hold onto the roof of the car until he was steady and sure of his footing on the rough paving.
‘It is there,’ he said, pointing to a row of wooden huts lining the side of the harbour wall.
Wrinkling her nose when she detected the unmistakable aroma of fish in the air, she eyed the shop with concern. It was a far cry from the sterile cleanliness of a supermarket, and thoughts of salmonella flitted through her mind.
‘All the restaurants come to Alonso for their fish,’ Hugo said. ‘So if I want fish, good fish, then I come here too.’
She smiled a hello when Hugo introduced her to Alonso, then left them to it, finding the fishy stench too overpowering. Instead, she dawdled along the wide harbour walkway and admired the boats moored there. Some of them were huge and must have cost a fortune. She strolled to the far end and took in the view of the now familiar banana fields which dotted the southern part of the island, interspersed with villages and hamlets and the occasional hotel. Her attention was drawn to an enormous red-brick complex in the distance, and she wondered if TZC’s proposed hotel would look similar. The thought of the rugged beauty of the coast being marred by such a monstrosity (although the hotel she was looking at was probably really nice to stay in) made her feel incredibly sad.
To take her mind off it, she turned to look at Teide instead, just visible beyond a ridge of closer mountains. The sky was incredibly clear, with not a cloud in sight, the volcano appearing much closer without its customary haze. She couldn’t imagine being in the UK right now, with the long, dark nights, damp chill in the air, and the grey of winter bleeding all the colour and joy out of life. She had no urge at all to return, no longing for the place of her birth, no homesickness. This was home now, and impulsively she opened her arms wide, closed her eyes, held her face up to the sky and did a twirl.
‘Are you dancing?’
Sophie squeaked in alarm. ‘Hugo, you made me jump.’
‘You look happy.’
‘I take it from the tone of your voice that it doesn’t happen very often?’ She slipped her arm through his and they headed slowly back the way they’d come.
‘Not so often,’ Hugo said, ‘but I see how hard it has been for you.’
‘Yeah, losing someone you love takes its toll.’
Hugo gave her a sharp look before saying, ‘You will be fine. Look.’ He held up an ancient cool box. ‘I have our fish. Alonso has lent me this and packed it with ice. He is a
good man, a kind man. He also knows his fish.’
‘Fancy a coffee before we head back? My treat?’ With the fish safely stored in ice, they didn’t need to rush back to the villa.
‘That would be nice.’ Hugo grinned at her. ‘And cake?’
‘And cake,’ she confirmed, so they found a café facing the sea and placed their order.
Sophie let out a contented sigh, a smile on her lips.
‘Your mother, would she have liked it here, on Tenerife?’ Hugo asked. When she didn’t answer straight away, he added, ‘I am sorry if talking of her makes you sad.’
‘That’s OK, I like talking about her. I don’t do it nearly often enough.’ She didn’t really have anyone she could talk to, so it was nice that Hugo had brought it up. ‘I think she would have loved it, the weather especially. It’s such a perfect day – I can’t believe it’s nearly the middle of winter.’
‘Ah, that is about to change, so Alonso said. We are going to have a storm.’
Sophie’s eyebrows rose. ‘Really?’ She let her gaze wander over the calm sea and clear blue sky, the sun hot on her exposed skin.
‘Yes. He is not wrong. It comes tomorrow, I think. The waves will be very big, very strong.’
‘Dominic will be pleased.’
Hugo shook his head. ‘Too big for surfing. Too dangerous.’
Although she knew that the Canary Islands were out in the Atlantic, she’d not really thought about it except to compare the temperature of the sea here to that of the Med, where it was considerably warmer, and she wondered just how big those waves would get. It was quite exciting to think there would be a storm, and worrying too, considering the villa was so exposed. Still, she reasoned, it had been standing for a good few years and had probably seen its fair share of bad weather.
‘Do you get many storms on the island?’ she asked.
‘A few every year, just like we have rain sometimes in the south. The car is parked next to the Barranco de San Juan, where sometimes a river comes if there is much rain in the mountains.’
‘Wow. Does barranco mean river, or stream?’ she wanted to know, but when Hugo wasn’t able to translate for her, she looked it up on her phone and saw that the word meant ravine.
