by Alice Ross
‘… you’ve got a family now, and I can’t expect you to …’
Before he could utter another word, Julia set down her glass, grabbed hold of him and pulled him to her.
Chapter Twelve
‘Oh my God,’ gasped Josie. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many people in one place.
Fighting their way through the battalion of bodies at Malaga airport, the same thought had just scuttled through Faye’s mind. Swiftly followed by how on earth they were going to get from the airport to Marbella.
‘How do we get to Marbella from here?’ asked Josie, as if reading Faye’s thoughts.
Faye sucked in a deep breath. She couldn’t admit to Josie that she didn’t have a clue. That the crowds were freaking her out. That she was beginning to think this wasn’t such a good idea after all. She’d instigated the trip; dragged poor Josie along. She had to take charge. Prove to Josie – and the world – that she wasn’t a kid any more. That she was a fully grown, mature woman. The problem was, at that particular moment, she didn’t feel like a fully grown, mature woman. She felt exactly as she had when she’d been six years old and wandered off in the local supermarket: very scared, and very vulnerable. A fierce-looking woman squeezed past, catching Faye’s ankle with her trolley. Faye bit back an expletive as tears sprang to her eyes. But she couldn’t cry. That wouldn’t be cool at all. And would only stress Josie out even more. She gulped down another mouthful of air, before blurting out, ‘We’ll catch a bus.’
Following the overhead neon signs, they eventually located the airport’s bus station. It, too, was thronged with people – all talking, it seemed to Faye, at maximum volume. A child began wailing. Someone jabbed their elbow into Faye’s chest. The bus for Marbella was just pulling out. And the crowd waiting for the next one was about twenty people deep.
‘Looks like we might be here a while,’ sighed Josie despondently.
‘It’ll be worth it,’ said Faye, not sure who she was trying to convince.
What seemed to Faye like three days, but was actually three hours, later, she and Josie clambered off the bus in the centre of Marbella.
‘Well, here we are at last,’ huffed Josie. ‘What now?’
Faye had no idea. Having spent the entire bus journey sandwiched between two large sweaty Spaniards, she felt slightly nauseous. She stood for a moment, assessing their surroundings. The crowd that had descended the bus with them had already drifted off, obviously having somewhere to go. She and Josie didn’t have anywhere to go – a fact which made her even more nauseous. Hmm. This wasn’t how she’d imagined her arrival in Spain at all. She’d imagined Miguel waiting at the airport, pulling her into his arms and kissing her, before she hopped into his open-topped sports car and he whisked her to his gorgeous villa down a road parallel to the glistening Med. She’d imagined trendy music, her hair blowing in the breeze, the sun browning her bare limbs. Not that she had any idea if Miguel owned an open-topped sports car. Or a gorgeous villa. Or even if the road did run parallel to the sea. But what she certainly hadn’t imaged was a dark, dingy bus station, clouded in choking diesel fumes. Well, one thing was for certain. They couldn’t stay here all night.
‘Let’s go and find Miguel’s bar,’ she piped up.
Josie wrinkled her nose. ‘But we don’t have a clue where it is.’
‘I know it’s on the beachfront,’ said Faye. ‘And I know it’s called Samba. If we head towards the beach, someone’s sure to know where it is.’
Josie heaved a weary sigh as she tugged the straps of her backpack over her shoulders. ‘I’m knackered. Don’t you think it’d be better if we found a hotel and crashed? Then we can look for Miguel tomorrow.’
Faye hesitated for a moment. Finding a hotel and crashing sounded perfect. But that wasn’t what she’d come here for. She was dying to surprise Miguel and besides, he might offer to put them up for the night, which would save them a heap of money. ‘Look, why don’t we give ourselves an hour to look for him, and if we can’t find him in that time, we’ll head for a hotel?’
Josie contorted her mouth into a rather strange position. ‘Oh, all right then,’ she eventually huffed. ‘Just an hour, though.’
Following the signs, they headed down the hill towards the sea. The nearer they got, the livelier the place became, the beachfront being the liveliest of all. A paved promenade lined with palm trees, and a plethora of sea-facing, colourful, canopied bars nudged up against each other, blasting out a cacophony of pulsating music.
‘Wow,’ exclaimed Faye. ‘This is great, isn’t it?’
Josie didn’t reply.
‘Let’s go into this one,’ said Faye, marching into the place on her left. ‘And ask if they know where Miguel’s bar is.’
Fortunately for her, the proprietor did know. He informed her that Samba was actually more of a nightclub than a bar, and was located up a side street leading off from the promenade.
Following his detailed directions, they arrived at their destination some ten minutes later.
‘Right,’ said Faye, her positivity wobbling as she assessed the peeling paint and graffiti on the door, the flickering light above it, and the fluorescent signage which boasted only S m a. If she’d been forced to stick a label on her initial opinion, she would have opted for ‘seedy’.
‘Should we, er, go in?’ she asked Josie, part of her hoping her friend would steadfastly refuse.
Josie wrinkled her nose. ‘It looks a bit … dodgy. But I suppose … as we’re here …’
Faye sucked in a fortifying breath. It was only a stupid door and lights for God’s sake. Inside the place could be a veritable palace. Ignoring every one of her screaming instincts, she pushed the aforementioned shabby door open and stepped inside. To have every one of her senses immediately assaulted. It was the smell of marijuana that hit her first. At least Faye assumed it was marijuana. It was certainly something very pungent, sweet and earthy, which punched the back of her throat. Her eyes, meanwhile, beginning to water with the intensity of the smoke, attempted to adjust to the dimly lit fug. They scanned the large room, scattered with tables – all occupied with an assortment of clientele – eventually settling on the bar at the back, at which Faye could just about discern the shapes of three guys all dressed in black. The blaring techno music rebounding through her entire body, Faye didn’t bother to attempt to speak to Josie, but merely gestured her over to the bar.
Weaving their way through the tables and bodies, Faye’s heart lifted as they approached the bar and she recognised Miguel as one of the staff. She really wished she was wearing something more appealing than jeans and trainers, but there’d be plenty of time for that later. After all, if she was going to stay here for a while, he’d soon be acquainted with all the more exciting pieces from her wardrobe. Turning to arranged a row of bottles on the back wall, he didn’t notice Faye as she drew nearer, which allowed her just enough time to smooth down her hair, run a finger over her eyebrows, moisten her lips, and fix what she hoped was a seductive smile on her face.
‘Hi, Miguel,’ she yelled above the music.
Miguel spun around to face her. ‘Er, hi,’ he said, in a tone which sounded worryingly like he didn’t recognise her.
Faye’s smile wavered, at exactly the same time her stomach plummeted. But of course he wasn’t expecting her, she quickly reassured herself. It was like whenever she used to bump into one of her teachers in the shopping centre or somewhere. Seeing them out of context like that always required a couple of seconds for recognition to kick in.
She rallied her spirits and forced the corners of her lips upwards again. ‘Surprised to see me?’ she asked, flicking back her hair.
‘Um, yes. Very surprised,’ he mumbled, his dark eyes narrowing as he studied her face.
‘I don’t think he knows who you are,’ Josie bawled into Faye’s ear.
Faye shot her a dismissive look. ‘Of course he does.’ She turned her attention back to the barman. ‘You remember me, don’t you, Miguel? Fro
m the tennis party. In England. Your friend Eduardo is Josie’s tennis coach.’
Relief washed over Miguel’s handsome tanned features. ‘Ah. Sí, sí. Now I remember.’
Thank God for that, Faye muttered under her breath. Although the reunion hadn’t gone quite as planned. In fact nothing had gone quite as planned from the moment she and Josie had stepped off the plane. Still, that didn’t mean things had to continue in that vein. They were in Marbella now. Mixing with the locals, not the stupid tourists. And they’d found Miguel. Which meant things could only get better.
‘What you doing here?’ he asked, shaking his head slightly.
Faye shook back her mane of hair. ‘Well, you know at the party you said I’d fit in well here … and that if I ever wanted a job you could find me one? Well, here I am.’ She concluded the statement with a huge grin and a flourish of her hands.
Neither of which appeared to impress Miguel. He turned to his colleagues and said something in a stream of Spanish. Which evidently, by the snort of ensuing laughter from said colleagues, must have been hilarious.
Faye only hoped it wasn’t anything to do with her. But why would it be? She was only repeating what he’d said to her at Josie’s party.
‘You, er, want drink?’ he asked, turning back to her.
Tired of hollering over the music, Faye looked enquiringly at Josie.
‘Coke, please,’ said Josie.
‘And same for me, please,’ added Faye.
Miguel winked at her. ‘Oh, but you are in Marbella now. You can’t just be drinking the Coke. How about I make it a little more … how you say …. interesting?’
Faye gulped. She didn’t want anything ‘interesting’, she just wanted a Coke. In fact, at that precise moment, with the heat of the room, the cloying smell, and the waves of tiredness washing over her, she could happily have imbibed several pints of the stuff. But she didn’t want Miguel to think she was a wuss. And she was young. Supposedly up for all sorts of ‘interesting’ things.
‘Whatever you like,’ she replied, running her tongue over her lips.
While Miguel made up their drinks, Josie tugged on Faye’s arm.
‘Look, I don’t want to be a party pooper or anything, but this place gives me the creeps. It’s full of weirdos. Let’s just go. You can catch up with Miguel tomorrow. If you still want to.’
‘Of course I’d still want to,’ countered Faye. ‘Why on earth wouldn’t I?’
Josie lifted her eyebrows. ‘Maybe because he didn’t even know who you were?’
A stab of irritation pricked Faye. ‘Of course he knew who I was. And you can go if you like, but I’m staying here.’
‘Well, I’m hardly going to leave you here, am I?’ snapped back Josie. ‘Anything could happen to you. Look, there’s a seat in that corner. Why don’t we move over there?’
‘I’m not moving anywhere,’ said Faye. ‘You go and sit wherever you like.’
Swiping up the glass of whatever it was Miguel had just placed on the sticky bar top, Josie whipped up both backpacks and marched over to the cosier-looking sofa in the corner of the room.
‘Your friend okay?’ enquired Miguel.
‘She’s, er, just a bit tired,’ Faye replied. ‘It’s been a long day.’
Miguel winked at her. ‘In that case, I recommend you drink your drink. It will … how you say … invygorate you.’
Faye didn’t bother correcting his pronunciation. Anything that would invygorate – or indeed invigorate – her at that particular moment would be most welcome.
She raised the glass to her lips and took a sip. The liquid slid down her throat, seeming to take the lining with it.
‘What’s, er, in it?’ she croaked, blinking back the tears it had brought to her already watering eyes.
‘Surprise,’ Miguel informed her. ‘You drink. It will make you feel better.’
Not wishing to appear uncool, Faye forced down a few more sips while Miguel shared yet more apparently hilarious banter with his mates behind the bar. She glanced over to Josie. She was curled up on the seats, using the backpacks as pillows, fast asleep. Her drink sat on the table top, looking untouched.
Faye wished she was curled up asleep too. She was exhausted. The alcohol was making her woozy. And she needed the loo.
‘Where are the toilets?’ she asked Miguel.
‘The door on the right.’ He pointed across the room.
‘Thanks.’ Faye slid off her stool. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’
Making her way across the room, Faye realised she was incapable of walking in a straight line. Eventually reaching her destination, she unzipped her jeans, pulled down her knickers and sank down on the toilet seat. God. She’d never felt more weird in her entire life. She’d been tipsy before on cider, and she’d drunk far too much wine at Josie’s party, but this was something other than the effect of alcohol. And although she’d never touched drugs in her entire life, she strongly suspected there might be something of that ilk infiltrating her bloodstream right now.
Having emptied her bladder, she arranged her clothing and staggered out into the corridor, her legs feeling like they belonged to someone else.
Miguel was leaning against the wall opposite, holding what was obviously a joint. ‘Hola, guapa,’ he said, on a long exhalation of smoke.
‘Oh, er, hi,’ mumbled Faye, completely taken aback.
‘You okay?’ he asked, his dark eyes roving over her body in a way that made her want to spin around and lock herself in the toilet cubicle again.
‘Actually, I don’t feel too, er, good,’ she began. ‘I think I might just …’
‘You come up to my room,’ said Miguel, in a tone that sounded much more like an order than a suggestion.
As odd as Faye felt, something told her instinctively that this wasn’t right. ‘Er, thanks for the offer,’ she mumbled. ‘But if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go and wake Josie and …’
‘No. You come to my room.’ This time he grabbed her arm and dragged her along the corridor to a door at the opposite end to that which led back to the bar.
‘Let go of me,’ shrieked Faye, desperately trying to wangle herself from his grip.
Miguel ignored her, strengthening his hold. He headed towards another door, pushed it opened and yanked her inside. Where he released his grip.
Faye, her head now spinning, breathed a sigh of relief. Until she noticed him flick a bolt across the door.
‘Wh … what are you doing?’ she demanded, finding it increasingly difficult to coordinate her brain and her mouth.
‘Making us comfortable,’ Miguel replied, pushing her up against the wall. ‘I think if you come all this way to see me, then it is least I can do.’
He pressed his body to hers and slid a hand up her T-shirt.
‘Get off me,’ Faye shrieked.
Miguel silenced her by covering her mouth with his, and sliding his tongue between her lips.
For all her spinning head, hollow limbs, and now roiling stomach, Faye’s inner radar switched to red alert. She was in grave danger here. Very grave danger. And, if she didn’t do something quickly, the ensuing event would be disastrous.
Summoning every ounce of strength she could muster, she pressed both her hands against Miguel’s chest and gave one almighty push. He staggered backwards, toppling over a tub chair and banging his head on the floor.
Faye didn’t wait to see if he was all right. All she could think about was getting out of there. Fast. She slid open the bolt on the door, pulled in open and hared down the corridor. In the bar area, she somehow managed to negotiate her way through the maze of tables, heading for Josie.
‘Josie! Wake up! We have to get out of here now,’ she yelled, above the still-booming music.
Josie opened her eyes and gazed up at her friend, looking completely nonplussed. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked, bringing herself to an upright position.
‘I’ll tell you later.’ Faye grabbed her rucksack and shrugged it onto her shoul
der. ‘Get up quick. We have to go.’
Doing exactly as she was bid, Josie jumped to her feet, grabbed her own bag, and followed Faye to the outside door.
‘We have to run,’ Faye told her. ‘He might come after us.’
‘Who might?’
Faye didn’t reply. Panic surging through her body, her head feeling like it might take off into orbit any minute, she grabbed Josie’s arm and began haring down to the main drag. Leaving Josie no choice but to hare along with her.
They turned a corner, completely forgetting about the steep set of steps directly around it. As she tumbled down them a sharp pain shot through Faye’s right temple.
Before everything went completely black.
It took a moment for Faye to realise where she was when she regained consciousness. She’d never been in an ambulance before. But she was most definitely in one now. With Josie beside her – white as a sheet, her arm strapped up against her chest.
‘Oh my God, Faye,’ she gasped, tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘Are you all right? I’ve been worried sick.’
‘What happened?’ croaked Faye, her mouth feeling like it was full of sawdust.
‘We fell down some steps,’ replied Josie, swiping away her tears with her free hand. ‘You cracked your head and passed out.’
‘Shit,’ muttered Faye, the nausea she’d experienced earlier now returning with a vengeance. ‘And what happened to your arm?’
‘They think I’ve broken my wrist. We’re on our way to hospital now. A Spanish woman heard me screaming and ran out to help. God, Faye, this entire trip has been a nightmare. I knew it was a bad idea. I dread to think what my mum is going to say.’
Faye had a good idea what her own mother would say but, at that moment, she didn’t care. She wanted her with her. Faye Blakelaw, determined to prove just how capable and independent and grown up she was, wanted her mum.
*****
As delicious as the kiss with Max in the pub had been, it was nothing compared to kissing him now.
Lying on his sumptuous leather sofa.
With him on top of her.
