‘Yeah, well, you should have spoken up before,’ Ant said, which was also unfair, as I couldn’t possibly have known where Amy had decided to go first. He opened the door and the air that rushed in was so hot it was like someone had opened the oven in my kitchen back home.
Amy turned to me with a pained expression. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I mean, we can go now, if you really think it’s better.’
But Ant was already unstrapping Sarah from the seat beside me and lifting her out into the death-ray sunshine. Luckily, I’d slathered us all with sunblock. ‘It’s fine,’ I said, thinking, It isn’t fine, but Ant can own this one. ‘It was only a suggestion.’
‘It was only a suggestion,’ Ant repeated in a childish voice.
Amy wiggled a finger at him. ‘He’s naughty, that one,’ she said, laughing.
No, he’s a knob, I thought angrily.
As things turned out, I had been totally right, of course. It was fiendishly, unbearably hot – in fact, I can’t really find words to describe to you just how hot it was in the centre of town that day. The paths shimmered, the sun beat down and even the walls of the buildings radiated heat . . . it came at you from every angle. The air was so hot it seemed to scorch your lungs when you breathed in. Every single shop was closed for lunch and those shops that had a sign indicated they’d be reopening at five, or sometimes even six. Despite glasses of Coke beneath parasols that were so hot they also seemed to act like radiators, within ten minutes Lucy and Ben were complaining and little Sarah was in tears. ‘I want to go swimming like Mummy said,’ she sniffled.
‘Well, that’s Mummy’s fault for not saying so sooner, isn’t it?’ Ant told her, making her misery unexpectedly my responsibility.
‘Come on, let’s get out of here,’ Amy said. ‘It really is too hot for the kids.’
‘It’s too hot for me, let alone the kids,’ I said. ‘If we stay here any longer, I think I might faint.’
It was while we were walking back to the car that we came across the pig, scampering along the main street, clinging to the shadows.
An elderly man appeared in a doorway and crouched to give it some stale bread, and seeing us arriving, he began talking to Ben in Spanish.
‘He says he’s tame,’ Amy translated. ‘He says you can stroke him if you want to.’
Although he looked like a perfectly nice piglet, you could write everything I know about pigs on the back of a stamp, and from my position of total ignorance, I did not want my kids anywhere near it. Even from a distance, I’d caught a glimpse of his teeth as he’d gobbled up the bread, and they looked surprisingly pointy.
‘Ant, keep them away,’ I said, as I caught up.
‘Don’t worry, Mummy’s just a bit scared, but it’s fine,’ Ant told Lucy, crouching down beside her. ‘You’re a lovely little fella, aren’t you?’ he added, addressing the pig as he scratched behind his ear.
Lucy started to stroke the pig’s back at that point, and then Sarah pushed past Ant and the piglet started to lick her outstretched hand, looking, I suppose, for more bread.
I leaped in and swept her up into my arms. ‘Ant!’ I said. ‘For Christ’s sake. It’s a pig. It’s dirty.’
‘It looks pretty clean to me,’ Ant said.
‘What if it’s got rabies or something?’
Ant laughed. ‘I don’t think pigs even get rabies,’ he said, and I betted mentally that he had no more idea about that than I did.
‘Or swine fever,’ I said. ‘Pigs get that. Or hepatitis, or . . . anything. I don’t know.’
‘Jesus,’ Ant said, standing. ‘Take a chill pill, Heath. You’re scaring the kids.’
‘I want to scare the kids,’ I told him solemnly. ‘I want to scare them enough that they stop letting that pig lick their hands.’
Half an hour later, at the pool, I made a second mistake of being wary of the fish, and this unleashed a whole battery of mockery.
‘Careful,’ Ant said. ‘You might catch fish fever. Or rainbow-trout rabies.’
‘I’m not scared of them,’ I said. ‘I just think they look creepy.’ But if I’m honest, I was a bit scared of the fish. For some reason I couldn’t explain, I wouldn’t have much liked the idea of brushing up against any kind of fish while swimming, but these fish had only one eye; these fish had deformed fins and twisted humpbacks. They really did look creepy.
‘Well, I think it’s fun,’ Amy said, jumping into the pool right near where the fish were all gathered. ‘It’s a pool, but it’s also nature.’
‘Of course it’s fun,’ Ant said, addressing Lucy. ‘Mummy’s just scared of her own shadow, that’s all.’
‘There’s one over there that’s like Jaws,’ Ben told me, giggling. ‘He’ll bite your toes off if you’re not careful.’
‘Thanks for that, Ben,’ I said. ‘That’s really helpful.’
‘Mummy’s scared of fishes, Mummy’s scared of fishes,’ Lucy taunted.
Amy returned to collect Ben then, and while I remained in the shallows with Sarah, she and Ant swam back to the deep end where all the fish were, with Lucy and Ben clinging to their backs.
Once they’d reached the far side, Sarah looked up at me adoringly and I thought she was going to ask if we could join them. If she had done so, I would have done my best to overcome my fears for her sake, but instead, she said, ‘Don’t worry, I don’t like the fishes either, Mummy.’
‘Oh, you, you’re gorgeous,’ I told her, snuffling her neck with kisses. ‘And I think the fish are all right really,’ I told her. ‘I just don’t want them brushing against my leg, because it tickles.’
‘Mummy’s scared of fishes!’ Lucy shouted again, this time from the far side of the pool. Some Spanish people glanced my way and I wondered if they understood what Lucy was saying.
‘She’s just showing off cos Ben’s here,’ Sarah said, making me laugh.
And then I thought about what she’d said, and thought that yes, she was right. Lucy was showing off because Ben was here. And Ant was showing off because Amy was here. And I wondered what, if anything, that meant.
We stayed at the pool for over three hours.
The kids ended up playing with some Spanish children, one of whom had a withered arm that looked like it might be from polio. They couldn’t say a single word to each other, but it didn’t matter. Watching them, I thought about the fact that prejudice is learned – about how naturally accepting kids are of each other.
I thought about Ant and his dreadful remarks about spics and dagos and realised that he hadn’t said either word since we’d arrived. Perhaps seeing that the Spaniards were people, ‘just like us’, had been enough to stop him thinking that way, or more likely he was simply watching his tongue. Whatever the explanation, it was a relief. I imagined Lucy and Sarah hearing those words from their peers at some point in the future and thought that, hopefully, they’d remember this day, this trip, and think, No, I’ve been to Spain, and the people there are nice.
I dozed under the tree for a while – knocked out, I think, by the heat – and when I woke up, Ant was chatting to Amy at the poolside, their legs dangling side by side in the water. In the gaps between the children’s shrieks, I could just about hear what they were saying, and I was shocked to realise they were comparing notes on their partners. Annoyed and intrigued in equal measure, I pretended I was still asleep and listened on.
‘Oh, that’s just like Joe,’ Amy was saying. ‘He never wants to do anything, either. But you know, I think it’s just normal stasis. It’s just what happens when you’re in a relationship for a long time.’
‘It’s people who’ve never moved,’ Ant said. ‘It’s people who have always stayed in one town, that’s the thing.’
‘Oh, Joe’s moved,’ Amy said. ‘He’s from Whitby, up north.’
‘Oh yeah, of course,’ Ant said. ‘Kind of like me.’
I almost sat up to point out that I too had moved – that I’d grown up in Essex – but I couldn’t really see what it would achieve.<
br />
A couple walked past, talking loudly, but when I could hear again, Amy was saying, ‘. . . with Joe, it’s not so much a geographical thing. It’s just that he’s contented with so little, you know?’
‘Heather’s the same,’ Ant said, and I thought, Huh! Luckily for you, I am.
‘It’s like, if you sit Joe in an armchair with a book, then he’s just happy for ever more,’ Amy said. ‘I got so bored with seeing him in that chair that I sold it on eBay, actually. But he just moved to the sofa instead.’
‘Reading’s so boring,’ Ant said. ‘I’ve never liked reading. I’d always rather be active, out and about, doing stuff.’
‘Well, you need to nourish your spirit too,’ Amy said. ‘I mean, I like to read about other people’s experiences, but it’s not the only thing I want from my life, you know?’
‘Heather’s a reader,’ Ant told her. ‘She’s got one of those e-book things – a Kindle. Just ploughs her way through books, she does. You should see the bill from Amazon on the card at the end of the month.’
‘Oh, I prefer proper books,’ Amy said. ‘Books with a soul, printed on paper that’s grown under the sun, you know?’
‘Yeah, me too,’ Ant said, and I felt suddenly embarrassed on his behalf. He was making a bit of a fool of himself and, obtusely, I felt a tiny wave of love for him, for the little lost child within, still trying to impress at forty-eight. So many of Ant’s difficult aspects seemed to be caused by his insecurities, it seemed a shame, really.
To save him from digging himself an even deeper ditch, I yawned loudly and rolled on to my side, and they both turned their heads to look back at me.
‘She’s awake!’ Amy said.
‘Hey, sleepy head,’ Ant said. ‘You were snoring.’
‘Hey,’ I replied, stretching. ‘Mmm, was I?’
‘Like a trooper,’ Ant said.
‘And what are you two nattering about?’ I asked.
‘Oh, we were discussing the pros and cons of paper,’ Amy said seamlessly.
‘Paper?’ I asked, pretending I hadn’t heard their conversation.
‘Yeah, books,’ Ant said. ‘Proper books versus your Kindle thing.’
‘I like my books to have a soul,’ Amy explained. ‘I want my words to be printed on paper that’s been grown, that’s part of nature, you know?’
‘Right,’ I said. ‘Well, I prefer to let the trees carry on growing in the sunshine. I prefer nature to owning physical books, I suppose. That’s my problem.’ To make my point I glanced at the tree above me, the one providing shade, and then added, ‘But each to his own.’
I saw Amy wince as if she’d been slapped, and Ant raised an eyebrow in surprise that I’d momentarily outmanoeuvred Amy. Of course, he didn’t know I’d had time to think about what they were saying.
I glanced beyond them at the shimmering pool, where the kids were still playing in the shallows. ‘It’s going to be hard to drag them away,’ I said. ‘They’re loving it here.’
‘We can always come back tomorrow,’ Amy suggested. ‘It’s not like it’s far.’
‘God, it’s still so hot, though!’ I said, glancing at my watch – it was six – and then standing and heading towards the pool ladder. ‘Did you put more cream on them?’ I asked Ant.
‘I did,’ Amy said. ‘Don’t worry.’
‘Careful of the fish,’ Ant said, as I began to descend the ladder. ‘Make sure they don’t give you any diseases.’
‘Um, I think we’ve done that joke already, Ant,’ I said, casting the words over my shoulder as I launched myself into the velvety water.
On the way back, we stopped off once again in Orce. The temperature had dropped to a ‘mere’ thirty-seven degrees, and the few shops that existed were open. People were milling around carrying their shopping, or stopping to chat on the street corners.
We sat in the main square for another round of drinks and I noticed how many older people were present. Some were in groups, playing dominoes or cards, while others were with their families – three or even four generations at the same table.
How nice it must be to get old under the Spanish sun, I thought. How much easier on the soul it must be than sitting in a granny flat beneath a rainy British sky.
It wasn’t until the waitress came to take our order that I noticed that Ant had the hump with me. He ordered a beer – luckily, the waitress spoke some English – and then Amy asked me and the kids what we wanted so that she could translate.
‘I’m not sure,’ I replied. ‘What are you having?’
‘God, I hate it when you do that,’ Ant said.
‘I’m sorry? When I do what?’ I asked.
‘Why do you need to know what Amy’s having? Why can’t you just make a decision on your own?’ He was getting his own back because of the joke, I realised. Of course he was.
‘I’m having a glass of white wine, I think,’ Amy said, ignoring him.
‘That sounds nice,’ I said, glancing nervously at Ant. ‘I’ll have the same.’
‘Of course you will,’ Ant commented, sighing and then looking away across the square.
‘Ant,’ I pleaded. ‘Please!’
‘Please what?’ he asked, glancing back at me briefly before turning his attention to his phone.
‘That was gorgeous today,’ Amy said, once the waitress had taken everyone’s orders and moved to the next table.
‘It was,’ Ant said. ‘Thanks, Amy. Thanks for all of this.’
‘One of my better ideas,’ Amy said.
‘Definitely,’ Ant said, nodding enthusiastically, and it was as much as I could do not to roll my eyes.
‘What?’ Ant asked me in a challenging tone of voice, which was strange because I felt certain I hadn’t pulled a face or even sighed. Had I actually rolled my eyes without realising it, or had he picked up on my subconscious desire to do so?
‘I didn’t say a word!’ I protested. ‘Jesus, Ant, just relax, will you?’
He turned his attention to his phone again and I glanced around the square, hoping to spot the pig. I felt we needed a distraction here, but the pig was nowhere to be seen. ‘There’s a pizza place over there,’ I said instead, pointing. ‘Maybe we can get takeaway for dinner this evening.’
Ben and Lucy shrieked, ‘Yes!’ immediately, and after a few seconds, Sarah – who’d been lost to the world, fiddling with the buckle on her sandals – joined in too.
‘I’m not sure,’ Amy said. ‘I’m pretty sure they don’t have vegan options in Spain.’
‘Oh, Mum!’ Ben pleaded. ‘Go on.’
‘We can still have pizza, can’t we, Dad?’ Lucy asked.
‘Of course we can,’ Ant said. ‘We’re not vegans, are we?’
By accident, I’d thrown a spanner, albeit a tiny one, into the works of Ant and Amy’s mutual appreciation society.
‘Mum! ’ Ben said, raising his eyebrows almost to the top of his head. ‘Come on! They’re having pizza.’
‘OK, OK!’ Amy conceded. ‘Just this once. Hopefully, they’re not quite so mean to their cows in Spain, anyway.’
It was dark by the time we got back, and the sky was a deep purple all along the horizon.
Joe seemed a bit glum, or thoughtful, or just quiet – I couldn’t really decide which – and Ant continued to be sullen and childish and rude. But the kids filled in all the gaps, telling Joe excitedly about the pig and the fish, and thankfully no one mentioned my fear of either.
I put the three kids to bed just before ten, but fell asleep on Sarah’s bed while reading them a story. When I woke back up, the room was pitch black.
I fumbled around and understood that someone had thrown a cover over me, and the book was no longer in my grasp.
Whoever it was had forgotten to plug in the nightlight, but there was a sliver of light leaking beneath the door, so I stood and fumbled my way across the room towards that.
The rest of the house was silent, but when I checked our room, the bed was empty.
I pulled a
cardigan around me and stepped out into the courtyard, but that too was empty and, with the exception of the cicadas, totally silent.
It was cool enough that I shivered as I walked to the track, from where I could look out over the plain. There was what looked like a full moon hanging in the sky, and some bats were circling around the single street lamp. I checked that the car was still parked behind the wall – it was – and then, with a shrug, I returned to the house, where I brushed my teeth and undressed for bed.
At some point during the night, Ant returned, sliding in beneath the covers beside me.
‘Where were you?’ I asked sleepily.
‘We went for a walk,’ he said, as he snuggled against my back. ‘It’s such a lovely night. The moon’s amazing.’
‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘I saw that.’
I noticed that he was no longer sulking. If anything, he sounded a bit wired, as if he’d perhaps drunk too much coffee. I wondered briefly if he was going to try to have sex, but sleep was already enveloping me, and I suppose he can’t have, because the next thing I knew it was morning.
Those bedrooms were so dark and silent, it was impossible to know what time it was, and so easy to doze all morning, but I finally dragged myself from the bed to find everyone outside eating breakfast.
‘What time is it?’ I asked. The sun wasn’t as high in the sky as I’d expected.
‘About nine,’ Joe said.
‘Thirteen minutes past nine, to be precise,’ Amy said, after checking her phone.
‘You’re up early,’ I commented, addressing Ant. It was unusual for him to miss the chance of a lie-in.
‘Not really,’ Amy replied. She’d clearly thought I was talking to her. ‘Anyway, I was just telling everyone, I met our neighbours earlier on.’
‘We have neighbours?’ I said, pouring some apple juice into a cup, because there were no spare glasses on the table.
‘We do! Two guys. Hot, too.’
‘Hey, hey!’ Joe said. ‘Calm down. Hubby’s here.’
‘I suspect they might be gay, though,’ Amy added.
‘Oh, well, that’s OK then,’ Joe said, smiling.
‘Really?’ Ant said. ‘Gays? All the way out here?’ And I wondered exactly what he meant by that.
From Something Old Page 15
