Oh Maria well done, Helen thought. You really are the master of the backhanded compliment. You only needed to add that I’ve been a kept woman for two years and your work would be complete.
Aloud, she said, “Yes I thought about going back into the corporate world but it’s not really for me anymore. Too superficial. Nothing to show for it. With photography I actually create something beautiful, something that’s all my own achievement. You know, rather than just living off the glory of others. It’s very rewarding.”
It felt wrong to be so deliberately mean but also it felt good.
As she left the office building later, Helen paused to turn and contemplate the glass and steel structure. It had been her home, the home of her ambitions, the birthplace of her dreams. Now it seemed a hollow shell with no heart. Whatever happened in the future she wasn’t disappointed it was happening away from there.
PART TWO
Love is friendship that has caught fire
Ann Landers
Chapter One
“Hola! Senorita? Excuse me lady, have you lost something?”
Helen turned. Amid the noise and chaos of the busy street she couldn’t be sure who the voice was hailing but some instinct told her it might be her. She searched for the source of the English voice but saw only a sea of Spaniards. Her heart jolted as her gaze clashed against a pair of blue eyes, glittering out of place against Mediterranean skin. She stared at the stranger until a pain in her chest reminded her breathe. He raised an eyebrow and smiled, causing heat to rush to Helen’s face. She sensed the muscles in her cheeks preparing a returning smile, until a twisting flash of colour caused her to look down. The man’s hands grasped a wriggling teenage boy who clutched a familiar bag.
“That’s mine!” Helen’s voice whipped like a sail in the wind and all thought of beautiful blue eyes evaporated. She swung her camera bag round and saw the back pocket open, the flash and memory-card bag missing.
“You need to be more careful.” The man took the cloth bag from the teenager and released his grip. The lad gave an impish wink and disappeared into the crowed.
“Aren’t you going to call the cops?” Helen glared into the blue eyes and bristled as they crinkled in amusement. Her gaze swept down, noting his tailored suit, his air of confidence. Great, another business wanker unwilling to get his hands dirty.
“He tried to rob me. Do something.” She felt her face grow hot and took several ragged breaths.
The man grinned as he handed the cloth bag back to her, dangling it in front of her so she had to reach for it.
“I'm afraid if you leave your wares on display like that-” His face made clear the double entendre was intentional, “Then you're fair game along here. This is Las Rambles, sweetheart; pickpocket’s paradise. You should wear your valuables in front.”
He looked her over again and his expression altered as he realised why her camera bag was slung round her back.
“Oh, well, if you're already carrying valuables there you need to have a rethink.” His voice lost some of its harshness. “You'll figure it out.” He shrugged, gave a wink in farewell, then he followed the thief into the crowd.
Helen stood motionless, her heart pounding. She hugged her camera to her chest and looked left and right, expecting thieves from every direction. Her head and feet throbbed, competing for her attention. I need to sit down. But first I need to pee. She ducked into a café, ordered a cold drink in phrase-book Spanish and then asked for directions to the ladies.
Valuables, she thought bitterly, as she sat sipping lemonade. If only all men thought that way. Resting her swollen ankles on her camera bag Helen let out a sigh. It had been weeks since her showdown with Daniel, but the pain was still fresh. And if she allowed herself time to think, she missed him like a lost limb. Luckily, in the two months since finding out she was carrying twins, Helen hadn’t found much time for thinking. Her days were spent chasing down jobs, trying to earn enough to pay the mortgage and put some aside to buy everything she needed for the twins.
Who knew babies were so expensive? Or needed so much? Cribs, monitors, clothes, bedding, pushchair, high chairs. The list was endless.
Refreshed by the lemonade Helen sat back in her chair and gazed at the other customers in the café. It was nice to stop, even if it did allow the thoughts to crowd back into her tired brain. She pictured in her mind the heap of baby things slowly taking over her tiny apartment.
Like Vivienne in Pretty Woman, Helen thought ruefully, I found shopping wasn’t as much fun as I thought it would be.
Sharni had accompanied her shopping a couple of times but the need to watch every penny took the fun out of the trips. Despite wanting the best for her little ones Helen was forced to grab second-hand bargains where she could. It irked her. Daniel’s babies should have the best of everything; he could afford it. Still, she would never ask him for money. He had given up his right to be the twins’ father and that was fine with her.
However hard it is to stick to that decision. Instead of spending my meagre savings on staying in a seedy hotel in Barcelona, I could be at home with my feet up. That’s assuming Daniel would part with a penny of course. I’d probably have to drag him through the courts. No thanks.
Helen watched the bubbles rising in her drink. I hope I made the right decision taking this assignment. She’d managed to secure a brief from a publications house to take pictures of the La Merce festival. They had promised four figures for the right set of shots and it was too good an opportunity to pass up. Assuming I can take the right shots. If they don’t pay me I’ll have used all my savings for nothing. I suppose it has got me out of London.
Ever since she had heard from Maria that Daniel was with someone new Helen had walked about on egg-shells. So far she hadn’t bumped into him, although she’d seen a couple of his colleagues. They hadn’t recognised her or, if they had, they’d pretended not to. She guessed she was probably persona non grata to them. I wonder what Daniel told people. That I ran off with the petty cash probably. Who cares? I won’t be going back to the City, whatever happens.
Working as a freelance photographer was a world away from being an executive assistant. The office life seemed unreal now, like a game she had tried to play once but had found didn’t have the skill for.
If I do ever fall in love again it certainly won’t be with some sharp-suited businessman, like the one who just let that damn pickpocket escape.
Finishing up her drink Helen checked that everything was safely stowed in her bag and then headed back out into the Spanish sun.
Chapter Two
Helen stared up at the giant fish dominating the skyline. She’d seen it in pictures before but hadn’t realised how imposing it was. Up close on an uncluttered and empty beach it appeared incongruous and graceful, like finding a dinosaur in the park. She looked over at the nearby Hotel Arts and wished she could take pictures from inside the complex, with the sea as a backdrop. It wasn’t lost on her that, had she been here with Daniel, he would probably have chosen to stay at the Hotel Arts.
“He always did need to have the best of everything,” she muttered aloud, hunkering down on her heels to snap the fish from a different angle with the cerulean sky behind. While her mind was processing f-stops and shutter speeds part of her consciousness was absorbed with memories, leaving a taste in her mouth as rancid as seawater.
“Damn,” she uttered, realising her absorption in her photography had caused her to ignore a subtle call of nature that was now strident and impossible to disregard. She scanned the beach but it was early still. She’d come for the morning light and many of the cafés weren’t yet open. She pored over the town map but the nearest facilities were too far to walk in her current urgency.
“I wonder if I could sneak in the hotel,” she mused aloud, looking up at the dominant, intimidating sky scraper. Even though she’d stayed in similar five star complexes in the past, that life was gone now.
“I doubt you could sneak anywhere,” a deep voic
e behind her announced, making her jump and nearly causing her to drop her camera.
Helen span round and was about to shout at the man for startling her when her gaze jarred against a familiar pair of blue eyes.
“You again!” she declared, then flushed as she realised how rude it sounded.
Her unlikely knight-in-suited-armour from the evening before looked shocked by her spirited response and it was clear he didn’t recognise her. She had twisted her heavy copper hair up off her neck in preparation for a warm day and the black trouser suit of the previous evening had been replaced with a loose sea-green summer dress that hung provocatively off her new-found curves.
His piercing gaze looked more closely at her face before dropping quickly to her belly and enlightenment dawned. His face widened into a smile that Helen found, to her irritation, was ridiculously sexy.
“Yes, gorgeous, me again. Why would you want to sneak into the hotel? It’s nice enough I’ll grant you, but it lacks soul.”
“Are you staying there?” Helen’s voice could have frozen seawater.
“You have a problem with that?”
He’s not stupid then.
Helen shrugged and turned to retrieve the rucksack she had abandoned on the sand. “It’s no business of mine,” she said as she swung the bag over her shoulder.
“You really should take better care of your belongings,” the man gestured at where Helen had left the bag lying on the beach. “I thought you would have learnt that yesterday.”
“I can’t carry it all the time because it throws me off balance when I’m taking pictures.” Helen wondered why she was justifying herself to this interfering, insufferable man. Hoping he’d get the hint, she packed her camera back into the rucksack and headed down the beach.
He took two strides and caught up with her. “You didn’t answer my question, why do you want to sneak into the hotel? I’ll give you a key if you like?”
Helen stopped and turned to face the stranger, unsure what to make of him. Now she thought about it he didn’t look like a businessman, despite the suit he’d been wearing the day before. He’d obviously been running this morning as he was dressed in jogging pants and a less-than-pristine t-shirt. His dark skin was glowing, his black curls separated by sweat. He carried himself with confidence but not the brash swagger of the boardroom bunch that used to grace Daniel’s dinner parties. He occupied his space quietly, in a way that made him more impressive than the over-the-top people Daniel liked to associate with.
Stop comparing everyone and everything to Daniel, she admonished herself silently.
Hoping to disconcert the man, Helen shrugged and said “I need to pee.”
Her attempt failed. He just nodded knowingly and indicated that Helen should follow him. Unsure what to do, but with the call of nature bellowing in her ear, she meekly fell in step with him and walked the short way to the hotel.
“The ladies are down that way,” he said as they entered the lobby.
Scuttling off in the direction indicated as fast as she dared, Helen couldn’t help glancing back to see what the man would do. She wondered if he would wait in the lobby for her to come out; a prospect she found both embarrassing and appealing. To her disappointment he strolled over to the lift and pressed the call button.
The scent of fresh lilies caressed Helen as she scurried into the wash room and sank gratefully onto the seat. Not like the dump I’m staying in. Except it’s about the same size. As she washed her hands, trying to get her bump near enough to the sink to turn the tap on, Helen wondered if she should buy some flowers on the way back to her dingy hotel room.
Maybe a nice floral smell will disguise the damp and disinfectant combo. The neatly-stacked pile of fluffy white towels welcomed her wet hands and made her want to slip one into her rucksack to use later. Helen helped herself to a liberal squirt of the free hand cream and stood scrutinising her face in the mirror.
At least I don’t look like a sleep-deprived witch anymore. All that lovely pregnancy collagen: there had to be some upside to this baby-carrying lark.
She took a brush out of her bag she tugged out her hair bobble before pulling the brush through the tangles. She marvelled at the glossy mane that had evolved from her normal wayward locks. Another benefit. Apparently nature offers some recompense for swollen ankles, oscillating hormones and a 24-hour need to pee.
Turning sideways, Helen looked at the bump stretching her summer dress. She had chosen the dress deliberately because it hung loose, but it was still obvious she was pregnant. Concealing a sigh, Helen packed her things back into her bag. It was cool in the toilets and she wasn’t in a hurry to return to the heat outside. Part of her wondered if she was hiding long enough to ensure her helpful stranger hadn’t returned to the lobby. Pushing the thought away she rubbed her belly and felt a flutter of a kick. It made her shiver.
“Where do we go from here, my darlings?” she said quietly. The kick came again, followed by another further round her ribcage. “Back to work I guess.” She ran her wrists under the cold tap once more to prepare for the heat before making her way back to the lobby.
Her footsteps rang out as she walked slowly across the tiles. She realised she had been unconsciously scanning the room for the stranger whose name she didn’t even know and was furious at her behaviour.
He’s long gone. No man is going to look twice at you now.
Despite the thought, her heart still dropped a little when she failed to find him waiting for her. With a little laugh at her own foolishness she headed for the door.
Marcio took a step back from his bedroom window when he saw the woman in the sea-green dress hurrying away, even though there was no way she could see him from the ground. He wandered around the room feeling as if he’d misplaced something, before heading to the coffee machine to make an espresso. While he waited for the gurgling to finish he analysed the sense of disquiet in his gut.
Should I have waited in the lobby, found out her name, taken her for a drink? Once upon a time he wouldn’t have thought twice, despite the bump. Now he was sworn off women he wondered at his level of interest.
There’s a story there, that’s all, he decided, as he stripped off to shower. No wedding ring and not the sort to be in that condition alone. Not through choice. He couldn’t say why he thought that, but he instinctively knew it to be true. Part of what made him a good writer was his instinctive sense of the truth of a story, no matter what was visible on the surface.
Although he’d taken the job willingly enough, writing food and travel reviews was starting to chafe. It was nice to travel but there were no stories in food. Not from a customer’s perspective. Where was the emotion, the passion? Those were his kind of stories.
They don’t pay the bills though, Marcio thought bitterly. And lord knows there are plenty of those.
He let the hot water pour over him, washing away the sweat but not erasing the memories. As a writer he hated clichés but he knew they evolved from universal truths and it was a truism for him that once bitten meant twice shy. It was a need to live the romantic dream, the fairy story, which had left him wide open for hurt and humiliation. From now on the only stories worth following were those that could be done at a distance.
Chapter Three
Helen lowered herself onto a park bench and slid off her shoes with a sigh. She was in a tiny courtyard, one of dozens she had wandered through in search of the perfect picture. It was peaceful, away from the main tourist areas and the places dominated by the festival. Leaning back she looked up at the azure sky through the leafy branches and then gazed out at a café on the opposite side of the courtyard, where enthusiastic Spaniards were enjoying lunch.
That is what makes this city different. Away from the tourists and the business district – and it is possible to easily escape both, even in such a small city – Spanish life wanders on unheeding.
Next to her on the bench, an old lady sat chatting to a child in a buggy. Helen smiled at the child, its face smeared
with chocolate, and it crossed the language barrier in a heartbeat. A toothy grin answered hers and the little face lit up. Helen unconsciously rubbed her hand across her ever-expanding stomach.
Thinking about motherhood terrified her: her future felt like a dark room and she couldn’t find the light-switch no matter how hard she groped around the walls. She gazed at the grinning baby and a flicker of anticipation shone in the darkness. The tiny innocent face, a perfect miniature not yet lined by life, made her wonder would her own babies would be like. Will I still be able to love them unconditionally, even though they’re part-Daniel? The question was too hard to answer so closed her mind to the memories, repeating the mantra Happy Pregnancy, Happy Babies to herself. She needed to save the anger, hide it even from herself.
Helen looked around the courtyard and tried to focus on the present, on how nice it was to just stop and take it in. The soft crooning of the old lady rolled over her and for the first time she didn’t mind that she spoke no Spanish: Crooning was the same in any language.
Bedraggled pigeons pecked about hopefully. One tatty brown bird had given up and was sat, forlorn and pathetic, at her feet. She had some crumbs from her muesli bar but chose to save them until her departure; it was too peaceful to have the moment broken by a flock of scrabbling birds.
Her gaze meandered across the courtyard to the café, where groups and couples sat having lunch and drinking coffee, not with the frenetic mayhem of a Pret a Mangé but slowly, as if it were a Sunday afternoon. She marvelled at how many of the customers appeared to be Spanish, rather than the pink and white tourist rabble.
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