‘So did you start, er, going out when he was married?’
‘No. He seemed to be off limits, though one of the girls I worked with said that he’d had an affair with this girl in the mail room a couple of years before. Her name was Christine. She was blonde and very busty. All the men were drooling after her. They said he took her to Barcelona for some business trip. Everyone knew about it, though no one dared say anything. Apparently, she thought they were in Rome! Anyway, she got pregnant and he had to dismiss her. If you can’t stand the heat and so on…’
‘So how did you, er…’
‘He and his wife were getting divorced. It was a very stressful time for him, particularly as she was going to get a lot of his money. I was very understanding and comforted him.’
She laughs and rolls her eyes.
‘I first comforted him on the floor in his office!’
‘How lovely!’
‘After the divorce was over, we started seeing each other more frequently. He said it was an arrangement, not a relationship, but that was fine by me. I was divorced myself and wanted a bit of luxury and fun for a change. I wanted nice things and I wanted to visit other countries. Sound familiar? I’m just like you! He didn’t want to be tied down again. In the relationship sense of the word, anyway. All the golf’s a bit of a drag, but, you know…’
We order coffee and sit there, looking out at the sea for a few minutes. I notice that Estelle keeps staring at me. Her eyes are dead and humourless. I can’t imagine what she’s thinking.
‘I’m sure I must have said it before, Sassy, but you’re a very attractive young woman. You’ve got everything; the body, the face, the hair…’
Where is this going, I wonder?
‘… you know how to present yourself, how to make yourself beautiful, how to make yourself attractive to a man. They were all staring at you in that dress in the restaurant last night, even the women. I caught Tybalt giving you the eye on a few occasions, when he thought I wasn’t looking. But I was looking.’
‘Well, it was a very nice dress. And thank you. It’s nice to receive compliments.’
Even when they come with a large dose of jealousy, I’m thinking.
‘I’m forty-four, darling. I’m not going to get another chance like this or another life like this and I’m not going to let it go without a fight. Just thought I’d better let you know.’
‘What – you mean you think that…’
‘No need to say anything, sweetie. I think you’ve got the message. Let’s go to the gym, shall we? I fancy a swim.’
So, she’s warned me off Tybalt twice in half an hour. Paranoid or what? I truly can’t think of anything more insane. Tybalt is a chubby slime ball who I don’t find attractive in the slightest and it would really have never occurred to me to pinch him off Estelle. She, presumably, thinks otherwise.
We stroll down to the gym area in silence. Once or twice, Estelle turns to me and smiles, as if our conversation in the restaurant had never happened.
‘I don’t know about you, Sassy, but since I had my boobs done, I find it a little uncomfortable to swim backstroke. Do you ever notice that?’
‘I can’t say that I have. I barely notice they’re there, to be honest.’
We swim in different lanes. Estelle goes in the slow lane and I go in the medium one. She does a leisurely breaststroke, whereas I switch between swimming styles and swim at a much faster pace. I guess because I learned relatively late in life, it’s much more of an enjoyable novelty for me. I love the feel of the water coursing past my body. It makes me feel more alive.
When I lived in Cornwall, I once asked Lucille if she’d come to the local pool with me and teach me how to swim. It was a disaster. Lucille had learnt in school when she was about seven and had even got all those medals that kids get. She could even dive off the top board. It was all so simple for her that she couldn’t understand how I managed to bypass the whole process. She couldn’t understand how I completely freaked out when my head went under the water and I came up spluttering and choking. Even though I was in the shallow end and my feet were touching the bottom of the pool, I still felt nervous and frightened.
Because of this she was a little impatient with me and we never tried it again. I’d wanted to learn so badly. I knew Kirstan was dying to show me how to surf and I wanted to get more confident in the water so he could. I’d seen what happened when surfers, even experienced ones like Kirstan, had been wiped out by a middle-sized wave. They’d get thrown sideways into a crashing wall of water and just as they were surfacing, the next wave would come along and put them back under again.
I didn’t think I could handle it. I could visualise myself choking and panicking. On top of that, your surfboard would often come speeding back towards your head. Kirstan had a scar on his left cheekbone where he’d been hit by his own board a few years earlier.
He didn’t mind, though. He understood. When I started to apologise about it, he’d put his arm around my waist and pull me towards him, kissing me on the mouth.
‘Forget it. It doesn’t matter. There’re loads of things you can do that I can’t.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like, um, giving change when you work behind the counter at the restaurant. I could never do that.’
‘Oh, bugger off.’
Estelle gets out of the pool before I do, but only by a few minutes. I decide to call a halt when my arm muscles start to hurt. Besides, I wanted to go to the loo.
I’m just opening my locker, when she appears right next to me, totally naked, her long hair still wet and draped around her neck and shoulders. Those boobs actually work better, so to speak, when she has no clothes on. They look much bigger, well-shaped and not so obviously fake. I would have expected the reverse.
She looks like the sort of woman you see in the tackier MILF porn shoots, and there’s a definite earthy sexuality about her. She even has a quite a six pack. I can’t imagine the number of stomach crunches you’d have to do to get that, and my own stomach muscles flinch involuntarily when I think about it. Even her thighs are well-muscled, doubtless from many hours in the gym.
This is definitely the sort of toned, darkly tanned body that most guys would find jaw-droppingly erotic in a scuzzy sort of way, and I can’t imagine that any of them would be overly concerned with her age. I want to tell her this, but I don’t think it would be appropriate under the circumstances. ‘Hi, Estelle. You are jaw-droppingly erotic in a scuzzy sort of way. Could you get dressed now and get your tits out of my face?’
She’s a little out of breath. ‘Well! You were certainly going at it in there, Sassy!’
‘Well, I learned late, so I still haven’t got bored with it. I love it, really.’
She watches carefully as I get out of my swimsuit. She’s sized me up as a person in the restaurant and now she’s sizing me up as a physical specimen. I don’t usually feel self-conscious about my nakedness, but I do now.
‘Hey, you’re really sleek, aren’t you!’
As I towel myself dry, I can feel her eyes on every inch of my body, her gaze lingering on my boobs. Compare and contrast, no doubt. I turn away from her.
‘Look at those beautiful toned muscles around your shoulder blades!’
‘Must be all the swimming I do.’
‘What do you think?’
She does a twirl so that I can take a good look at her unusual physique. I try to think of something to say. I’m glad we’re the only ones here.
‘You have the body of an athlete, Estelle.’
‘Do you really think so? Thank you, dear.’
‘You were getting a lot of male attention in the pool.’
‘I know. Well, see you for a coffee up in the spa area in a few minutes?’
‘Sure.’
She flicks a large pink towel around her shoulders, turns and walks away to her locker, impudently wiggling her ass at me. Bloody hell.
Five
As we sit overlooking the pool, sipping o
ur coffee, I decide that I’ve got to find some way of getting away from her. It’s just getting too stressful and weird. If she’s trying to psych me out, she’s succeeding. At least she’s got some clothes on now.
I think she’s used to being deserted by Tybalt on these holidays and latching onto someone like me is probably a regular thing. I’m pretty sure she has the whole day planned out, but whatever it is she’s got planned, I don’t really want any part of it. I like being on my own sometimes, for god’s sake!
She pours herself another coffee. ‘Why don’t we get a cab into Lagos this afternoon and go shopping? There’s a mall to die for there. There are some divine little jewellery shops there and all sort of other things. Clothes, too. We can spend some of our other halves’ money while they’re enjoying themselves hitting a little ball around the place. We could do that for a couple of hours, then pop in one of the little cafés and have tea. Then we can look at some more shops and go to one of the bars. They’re very nice. No locals in them to bother you. Then we can come back for dinner at eight or nine.’
What am I going to say? ‘I’m sorry, Estelle, but I don’t really fancy spending another moment in your company. I’m going to watch television, even though I won’t understand what it is they’re saying.’
I’ve got to think of some activity or other that she definitely won’t want to be involved with. I try to think of our conversation at breakfast. Think of her reactions to Tybalt’s inane suggestions. Then it hits me. It was when Tybalt was making all those cracks about rubber suits. It was when he suggested getting surfing lessons and also suggested that Estelle might like to try them. What was it she said?
You won’t get me on one of those things. Looks too dangerous and I hate going in the sea.
That’s it!
‘Actually, Estelle. I thought I might take up Tybalt’s suggestion and look into getting a few surfing lessons. I understand that they have very good instructors here at the hotel. Accredited or something.’
‘You’re kidding, aren’t you? Go in the sea on one of those yellow floaty things? Looks so risky and uncomfortable. Don’t bother, dear. You’ll feel much more healthy after you’ve had some excessive retail therapy.’
‘I don’t know. I like swimming and it can’t be that dangerous, can it?’
‘Anyway, it takes ages to learn, I’ve heard. By the time you’ve got the knack, it’ll be time for you to go home.’
Oh my god, she’s talking me out of it. I must press on.
‘Well, it’s something I’ve always wanted to try. I’ve never had the opportunity before. I can’t see that it’ll do any harm. And it can’t be that dangerous. If it was, the hotel wouldn’t bother with having instructors. I don’t remember seeing anything about people dying while learning to surf in their brochures.’
Although, even experienced surfers actually do die. It happened to one of Kirstan’s friends, but that was in Africa or somewhere.
‘I don’t think you’ll get any lessons today, anyway. Too short notice. They’re probably fully booked up. I imagine the closest you’ll get will be next week. Something like that.’
‘Well, there’s no harm in asking. I might just pop down to the sports activity centre and make some enquiries. It’s in the basement, isn’t it? Near the other gym?’
‘Well why don’t we go and do some shopping first and you can pop down there this evening?’
‘I’m not sure the activity reception desk is open in the evening. If there is a bit of a waiting list, it’s better to get down there sooner rather than later, don’t you think?’
A look of concern flashes across her face. ‘It’s just that – well – we’ve only been friends for such a short, short time. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.’
God almighty.
‘I’m sure it’s quite safe.’
‘I’m sure I heard that someone died from a jellyfish sting out there last year.’
I’m going to tear my head off in one second.
‘Well, you can see them coming, can’t you?’
‘Not all of them. Some of them are camouflaged, apparently.’
That’s it. I draw the line at camouflaged jellyfish.
‘Well I think I’ll just go and have a look,’ I say brightly, ‘I’ll ask them about the camouflaged jellyfish while I’m down there.’
‘Well rather you than me,’ she says, coldly. ‘See you at dinner, I suppose. Eight-o-clock?’
‘Of course.’
She’s looking well miffed now. I feel bad for having upset her, but not that bad. I think I’ll recover. I gulp down the rest of my coffee and stand up. I must act before she actually grabs my arm and stops me or pins me to the ground in some sort of wrestling hold.
I breeze out of the spa area and head for the main reception area. I don’t even know where I’m going. This place is so huge that even if I find the way down to the basement, it’s unlikely that I’ll come across the activities place without help. I resist the temptation to look over my shoulder to see if Estelle is following me, though it wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest if she was hanging onto one of my ankles.
There’s an old guy standing by the main reception desk wearing a hotel uniform, so I walk up to him and get his attention.
‘Excuse me. I wanted to enquire about getting surfing lessons, but I’m not sure which way I have to go. I know it’s the lower ground or basement or whatever it’s called.’
He smiles. He’s laid back, I can tell. He’s one of those people who will take half an hour to give out the most basic information.
‘Hello, miss. Yes. Surfing lessons. That would be in the activities centre. The sports activities centre, I should say. That is on the lower ground floor.’
Since when, I wonder, did ‘basement’ become such a dirty word? I suppose that in a lot of people’s minds it suggests a dirty, dingy, lightless place where evil things happen and dead bodies are hidden. Not a place you should expect to find in a posh hotel, perhaps. It would put people off. Ah well, lower ground it is.
‘How do I get there from here?’
‘From here? Walk down that corridor and that will take you straight on to the Aljezur Restaurant, which will be on your right side. Just before you come to the, er, restaurant entrance, you’ll see some stairs. These will take you to the lower ground floor.’
‘OK. What then?’
‘When you are reached the bottom of the stairs, turn left. Walk down the long corridor. You will pass the small hairdressers there. Big purple front with golden sardines. You cannot miss it. Walk past the hairdressers and take your first left turn. There you will see the sports activity reception desk. Someone there will help you.’
‘Thank you. Thank you very much.’ Just as I turn to leave, he gently touches my arm.
‘Er, miss. Do you mind very much if I say something to you?’
‘Of course not. What is it?’
He smiles. His eyes crinkle. ‘I have a granddaughter a little younger than you are. She is in her last year at school. I hope that when she is older, she will take me on holiday with her, like you are taking your grandfather. It is such a nice gesture.’
As you might imagine, I’m bloody speechless. By some miracle I manage to smile sweetly and force out ‘Thank you!’
I follow his instructions and in less than a minute I’m in the basement or lower ground floor, if you prefer. I can see the hairdressers ahead of me. The golden sardines painted on the front are about a foot long. They have huge, mad-looking eyes and each one holds various hairdressers’ implements.
I take the left turn and see the sports activity reception desk. A really tall, Gallic-looking guy in a wetsuit walks past me and smiles politely. Behind the desk is a pneumatic blonde wearing a burnt pink crop top which shows off her absolutely flat midriff and incidentally (I’m sure) accentuates her bust. This must be the instructor I saw on the beach this morning, who Tybalt said was an Australian or New Zealander and a real looker. She’s writing something i
n a book with one hand while tapping a computer keyboard with the other.
She’s a real looker all right. She’s seen me and greets me with a dazzling smile that almost blinds me with its heavenly radiance. How do people get their teeth that white?
‘Good afternoon, madam. I’m Janica. How may I help you?’
She’s Australian. She smiles again, and I can see her eyes quickly take in my hair and my boobs. She’s plainly a natural blonde and you can tell that her other assets have never been near a surgeon’s knife. No one in Harley Street would make a client/customer/whatever look like that. It’s just too damn jutting and provocative. No wonder Tybalt was perving over her.
A thought occurs to me; I’m like a fake version of this girl. The first two things a man would notice about either of us: the boobs and the blonde hair. Hers are real and mine are false.
‘Yes. I was thinking of getting some surfing lessons. One-to-one rather than in a group. I was hoping today and tomorrow, but I don’t know whether you have to book in advance or, er...’
If she hasn’t got anything, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I haven’t got a plan B. I suppose I’ll just have to bite the bullet and go shopping with Estelle. I could do with some more jewellery, anyway.
‘Have you surfed before, madam?’
I wish she’d stop calling me ‘madam’. It’s like I’m some middle-aged, well-to-do old bag who she has to be polite to as part of her job. Is that how I look to her? Do I look like someone you call ‘madam’? I certainly bloody hope not.
Have I surfed before? For a moment, I don’t know. Of course I haven’t. That’s why I’m here.
‘No. I never learned. I couldn’t swim when I was younger, so…’
‘Aw. Well you’re going to love it. Portugal is a fantastic place to learn. The water’s warm, the waves are good but not too big unless you go to the west coast. There’re regular sets – sorry – I keep lapsing into surfer-speak. Sets are…’
‘It’s OK. I know what sets are.’ Oh god. Was I rude just then? I didn’t mean to interrupt. She doesn’t seem to notice, though.
Summer Loving Page 5
