Sun, Sea and Sangria: Escape with a feel good romantic comedy in the summer sun!

by Victoria Cooke

  Jay reaches out and places a comforting hand on my shoulder. ‘Hey, you just do whatever you’re comfortable with. This Alfonso guy sounds like he’s been decent, so what have you got to worry about?’

  I don’t correct Jay when he gets Alonso’s name wrong because what he said was so right.

  ‘He does seem like a decent guy. I just don’t know what he thinks of me. Maybe he finds me boring because all I did was chat about normal stuff like work, and drink cocktails. There was no …’ God, it’s embarrassing to even use the word, ‘… romance as such.’

  Jay shrugs. ‘What’s wrong with getting to know someone first? You’ve been married but you’ve also been single for a long time. I think you’re qualified to make decisions that suit you.’

  The word married sends a chill down my spine.

  ‘Married,’ I echo. ‘I’m not sure what I had counted as a marriage.’

  ‘Oh?’ he says but doesn’t push me any further. I’m grateful for that but I find myself wanting to say more regardless.

  I sit down on a bench at the side of the pavement and draw a breath as Jay sits beside me.

  ‘My husband wasn’t what a husband should be.’

  ‘He didn’t … hurt you, did he?’ The muscles in Jay’s jaw twitch beneath his skin.

  I shake my head. ‘No, nothing like that. Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. It wasn’t a good marriage but it was a long time ago and I’m completely over it.’

  ‘Sorry if this is overstepping the mark here, but if it’s put you off ever being with someone else, are you over it?’ Jay says softly.

  ‘Yes.’ The answer comes out like a sharp bite. Instantly, I feel terrible.

  ‘Sorry. It’s none of my business.’

  ‘No, I’m sorry, it’s just … Let’s drop it, okay?’

  ‘Agreed.’

  Chapter 12

  ‘Sweetheart. I’m worried about you.’ Iain wraps his arms around my waist as I’m washing the last few dishes from dinner.

  ‘Oh?’ I ask, confused.

  ‘It’s all the time you’re spending with that Ellie girl from work.’

  ‘Why?’ I turn to face him. ‘Since moving so far away from my mum and dad I’ve felt pretty lonely. You’re usually at work anyway so it’s not as though having a few cups of coffee over lunch is impacting on us in any way.’

  He places his arms around my neck and kisses my cheek. ‘No, of course not. God, I’m so happy you’re finally making friends. You’ve seemed really down since we moved here and I want you to meet new people.’

  ‘What’s the problem with Ellie then?’ I ask, bewildered.

  He presses the knuckle of his index finger to his lips as he ponders how to spit out whatever it is that’s bothering him. ‘Okay, I’m just going to come out and say it.’

  I wish he would.

  ‘I think she’s using you.’

  ‘That’s absurd. Why ever would you think that?’ I say with a nervous laugh.

  ‘I realise how it sounds, but you’re so good at what you do, you have a business degree and you’re intelligent. She’s an office girl trying to claw her way up the ladder.’

  ‘But we hardly talk about work,’ I protest in disbelief.

  ‘So she never asks about your projects?’

  ‘Well, sometimes—’

  ‘Or picks your brain about work stuff?’

  ‘Now and again.’ I fold my arms. ‘But—’

  ‘And you’re telling me she has no ambition whatsoever?’

  ‘I’m not saying she has none …’

  ‘Kat.’ He takes my hands in his. ‘You are good at what you do, but you’re too trusting. Too quick to see the good in people, and I’m just looking out for you. All I’m saying is, I’ve been in business a long time and I know how it works. I don’t think you should trust Ellie.’

  He walks off, leaving me to think about Ellie. She’s so sweet that I can’t imagine she’s trying to steal my job, but she does ask for work advice every now and then, and I know she’d like to earn more money. It’s such a crazy idea, but Iain has been so successful in his accountancy firm and probably does see this kind of thing happen. I’m lucky to have someone like him watching out for me.

  I think back to the last time I saw her. We’d met for lunch and she’d gone on and on about being skint and maybe needing to look for another job. Then she was doing all that extra work for my line manager as unpaid overtime. Could she be using me? I suppose it’s possible …

  ***

  The following morning I have a text from Alonso with some options for times we could meet for a drink. I check my diary and confirm that Sunday would suit me best. I feel funny about seeing him again and it takes me a moment to realise that the light feeling in my chest isn’t the onset of a heart attack, it’s excitement. Jay was right; if I am truly over my marriage, I wouldn’t have a problem going on a date. I’m a much stronger person now, but that’s because I’m in control of every aspect of my life and my guard is up, surely?

  I go for a walk around Maspalomas, browsing the shops and wandering the promenade. I spend the whole day alone, doing exactly what I want to do, and then I sit on the beach before taking a dip in the rather chilly Atlantic. As I wrap my towel around me, it occurs to me that controlling everything doesn’t necessarily mean I’m in control. I do something completely out of character and unexpected. I call Jay.

  ‘Kat?’ he answers, evidently just as surprised as I am.

  ‘If I try to control every aspect of my life, I’m not actually in control, am I?’

  ‘Sorry, you’ve lost me.’ He sounds groggy from an afternoon nap, not uncommon after a late-night show, and now I feel guilty for waking him.

  ‘I mean, I’m completely in control of everything I do. I’m a well-oiled machine with a predictable routine that’s worked for me for years.’

  ‘Yes …’

  ‘But now, I’m wondering if maybe it’s not working for me but I can’t let go. I think I want to and therefore I’m in complete conflict with myself, so I’m not in control am I?’

  ‘Has Alfonso asked you out again?’

  It takes me a moment to realise that Jay is now more up to speed with the conversation than I am.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then go. You can still be in control – kiss him if you want to, don’t if you don’t. Just take it one thing at a time and remember that it’s your choice every step of the way.’

  I nod, which is for my own benefit since Jay can’t see me. He’s right; dating isn’t one big entity to say yes or no to. I can pick and choose the components along the way and I can call it all off at any time.

  ‘You must think I’m an idiot,’ I say eventually.

  ‘I think you’re great,’ he says with a sincerity that makes my skin tingle.

  I don’t quite know how to respond to that so I change the subject. ‘How come you’re single?’

  ‘You know that thing we do where we don’t discuss our pasts …’ he says before pausing. ‘I’ll see you later, Kat.’

  Chapter 13

  My stomach is filled with tap-dancing ants. I’m meeting Alonso in his bar on the Maspalomas promenade and I’m more nervous about this second meeting than I was about the first. There’s more pressure on a second date, isn’t there? The first date, you don’t really know one another; if it’s a blind date you might not have even seen a picture of the person you’re meeting, so if you’re not keen on the other person, you can quite plausibly go your separate ways, no harm done. A second date is different. You think the other person has potential; you think there could be a spark and you want to find out a bit more. If you ditch someone after a second date, it’s because you’ve dug a little deeper, gotten to know them better and decided you don’t like what you’ve discovered. What if Alonso doesn’t like what’s beneath my next layer? Once again, I got changed three times before I left the apartment.

  When I go down the terracotta steps to the exit, I spot Sammy and Jay doing push-ups
by the pool. There’s some kind of male-ego competition going on as Ant and Marcus are cheering them on. A few onlookers have gathered too and the business part of me wishes I had a sandwich board or something with the Heavenly Hunks splashed all over it. I head over to say hello. As I get down, Marcus comes over. He’s all slumped shoulders and broody-looking.

  ‘What’s up?’ I ask.

  ‘That girl brushed me off,’ he says staring at his feet.

  ‘Oh, Marc, it wasn’t meant to be. You’ll find someone else. Just take on board what I said and it will happen.’

  He nods as the rest of the guys burst into a cheer. Sammy gets to his feet as Jay collapses.

  ‘Told you I’d win, old man,’ Sammy teases before looking me over.

  ‘You’re not wearing that, are you?’ he says, in an unsuccessful attempt to be hilarious. My chest tightens and I’m about to retort when Jay stands up. I feel his eyes on me as he takes in all the effort I’ve made.

  ‘You look stunning, Kat.’

  The back of my neck tingles. ‘Thanks.’

  I’m vaguely aware that some of the others murmur in agreement as Jay drops his eyes to the ground. I suddenly feel weird and self-conscious but I’ve no idea why – the guys pay me compliments all the time.

  ‘Hot date, is it?’ Sammy asks.

  ‘Yes, I’m going to see Alonso.’

  ‘Is he the bar guy?’ Jay asks.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So it’s second-date serious then?’ he says lightly, but he doesn’t smile as I’d expect.

  I shrug. ‘If you can class a second date as serious. It’s still early days yet but he seems like a nice guy and I like spending time with him.’

  I turn to leave but he calls me back.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Sunglasses. You always forget them and you’re squinting again.’

  I get a sense of warmth at the small, thoughtful gesture. ‘Thanks, Jay.’

  ***

  I pause outside the bar and push my sunglasses up on my head. My stomach twists. Perhaps this completely wild idea to date was just a bad one from the off.

  ‘Kat!’ Alonso walks out past the two large white plant pots that mark the entrance to the outdoor seating area of the bar. A mini palm tree sprouts out of each one. The look of him catches me off guard. He’s wearing blue jeans and a white shirt unbuttoned enough to reveal a thin sprinkling of dark hair on his olive-skinned chest. His black hair is soft and falls in floppy waves over his ears.

  As I say hello he gives me a polite hug and kisses both cheeks. ‘I’ve reserved a table at the front.’

  He leads the way to a corner with white sofas and a white table that offers far-reaching views across the ocean. A waiter comes over immediately to take our drinks orders and we both order an Aperol Zest.

  ‘It’s great to see you again, Kat.’ Alonso sits back on the sofa and rests his ankle on his opposite knee. He’s relaxed, which I take as a good sign. I’m not sure why I notice he’s not wearing socks, but I do.

  ‘It’s good to see you too,’ I say as the waiter places our drinks down with some peanuts.

  ‘I take it these are safe to eat?’ I joke, putting a handful in my mouth.

  We spend the next hour or so chatting about work. It’s pleasant. He’s a good man, hardworking, attractive and seemingly has all his ducks in a row, and for some bizarre reason, he wants to spend his free time with me. There are no alarm bells ringing and I don’t feel the need to use my Get Out of Jail Free card at any point; in fact, I’m really enjoying his company. The date is like easing myself into a hot bath, uncomfortable at first but then pleasant and enjoyable. I’m not losing control.

  Chapter 14

  We take our seats in the conference centre of the Maspalomas Grand, which, for tonight, is doubling up as the competition auditorium. The front quarter of the large room is full of entrants. Given the generous prize, I shouldn’t really be surprised by that, but I am. Now my stomach is knotted with nerves. There are all kinds of acts: going by the costumes, it looks like we’ll be up against everything from go-go dancers and aerial acrobats to ventriloquists and country singers.

  ‘I don’t know how they’ll even pick a winner,’ Ant says, nodding towards the judges. There are three of them, two men and a woman. All of whom are apparently really high up in leisure and tourism. The brunette woman works directly with the Spanish secretary of state for tourism, one of the men is the director of a local hotel chain, and the other man is from the tourist board.

  ‘I mean, how can they decide between an awesome dancer and a fantastic singer?’ he continues. ‘They don’t compare.’

  ‘I don’t know, but we’re here now and all we can do is our best. We’ll see what happens.’ As I finish speaking, the music dies down and the woman appears on stage.

  Under the spotlight, she shimmers with effortless grace. Her brown shoulder-length hair is perfectly coiffured and her beige shift dress doesn’t have so much as a crease. She speaks first in Spanish and I glance down the row to Hugo, Pauw and Marcus, who are the only three besides me who seem to understand any of what she says. I’ve been nagging the others to learn some Spanish for ages.

  ‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.’ She switches to English with ease and Sammy, Ant and Jay each sit up straighter now they’re able to understand. ‘Welcome to our first Canarian talent competition, where we aim to bring you the best our resorts have to offer. Each act has fifteen minutes to wow us. As judges, we will be looking at the whole package: how well the performance is executed, how entertaining the act is, how original it is, and how the audience responds. We will select ten acts today to go through into the quarter-final, six acts will compete in the semi-final, and three acts will be chosen to compete in the grand final. Only one act can be the overall winner and our American judge, Brad, will go through the details of the Las Vegas trip with the winning act. Without further ado, I’d like to welcome our compère, Antonio Velez.’

  There’s a round of applause as she glides off stage and a charcoal-haired, tuxedoed man appears. He talks a little in Spanish before switching to English. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome act number one, Magica.’

  The lights go dark as music starts to blast. It’s ‘Bat out of Hell’.

  ‘My heart is racing,’ Ant says. Mine is too, but I’m nervous on the first act’s behalf. The atmosphere is so thick with tension it’s palpable.

  The lights turn red as a man jumps on stage, swirling his red and black cloak behind him as he does. He throws his giant top hat into the air and catches it, before pausing to look at the audience. It’s an indication to clap. Nobody claps.

  ‘Jeez, tough crowd,’ Ant whispers.

  ‘To be fair, he hasn’t really done anything yet,’ I say, although I agree with Ant. Usually, a crowd will applaud the initial opening of an act to welcome them on stage. The fact they didn’t is a worryingly bad sign, though I don’t want Ant to fret about that.

  Magica places the hat on the floor and dances like a bat around it, twirling his cape tails. I’m five rows back and even I catch a glimpse of him easing something into the hat as he attempts to use his dancing cloak to conceal the action. He stands up tall and the music stops. A brilliant-white light illuminates just him and the hat on the floor. He closes his eyes and lifts his head up. His face glows white and his mullet-style hair shines a soft silver. All of a sudden, he casts his wand through the air and firecrackers spit and bang onto the stage floor.

  ‘That was different,’ I whisper to Ant.

  ‘I was throwing firecrackers in maths class fifteen years ago,’ he replies, clearly unimpressed.

  The man bends down and looks in the hat. He stands up and scratches his head.

  ‘Oh God, he’s going to do that “pretend the magic didn’t work” crap that they do at kids’ parties, isn’t he?’

  I don’t answer Ant’s question for fear I’ll have to say yes.

  There’s an almighty scream from the front row.

 
; ‘Hey, this looks like it’s about to get quite good,’ I say, glad he isn’t sticking to the old-fashioned formula. An audience plant makes things interesting, especially when they feign terror.

  I wriggle forward in my seat, anticipating the next part of the act, then the whole room lights up. It’s not fancy stage lighting though; it’s fluorescent lighting. The bright kind that sears your eyeballs when you’ve been sitting in the dark for any length of time. The kind they put on in a nightclub at the end of the night when they want you to leave.

  ‘What the …?’

  The magician scurries off stage and picks something up from underneath a chair that’s suspiciously close to the origin of the scream.

  ‘Is that …?’ Ant whispers in disbelief.

  ‘An iguana? Yes,’ I reply as the magician clutches the wriggling reptile close to his chest.

  ‘If that was supposed to be pulled out of the hat, I think we’re better than him.’

  A minor kerfuffle follows and the elegant tourism lady stands up to announce a five-minute break.

  ‘I’m going to the loo now. There’s no way I’m missing out on the next act,’ Ant says.

  After he’s gone, I see someone take his seat from the corner of my eye.

  ‘We’ll find it hard to top a lizard on the loose, although Marcus often tells women he’s got a snake in his trousers.’

  I splutter, turning my head to see Jay wearing a bemused expression.

  ‘He’d better not,’ I say.

  Jay shrugs. ‘What do you think so far?’ he asks.

  ‘I think we’ve got a bloody good chance, but it’s early days yet.’

  ‘Would you jump in my grave as quick?’ As Ant returns, the lady judge takes the stage and announces the next act. Jay grins and Ant squeezes past to reach Jay’s empty seat further down the aisle as Spandau Ballet’s ‘Gold’ starts to play.