‘Sit down,’ my sister says to me and before I know it, she’s going at me with make-up, hair straighteners and the like. In an unusually generous about-turn, I suggest we open myemergencyemergency bottle of wine in the cooler, literally the only surviving bottle.
Within seconds Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen is holding out three plastic cups brimming with wine.
Soon after the bottle has been drained, Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen makes a shy suggestion. ‘Miss Weston, would it be possible for us to eat first and then go for thee dreenks?’ She explains that she has only eaten four times today. She fears that she has not lined her stomach properly. She reminds me that the Spanish simply do not have the capacity for drinking alcohol that the Northern Europeans have. This is very true. The Spanish will often nurse a small beer for hours and hours, whilst we Brits will have drunk ten or so, in the same time.
I immediately wonder if my last twenty-euro note is going to cover it. Not likely. Shame. I’ve not eaten out at all since I got here because I’ve not had anybody to go anywhere with or any money to do it. I really must sort out the money transfer somehow. It still hasn’t gone into my account here, but I haven’t had time to face the countless hours on the helpline, the endless queueing and numerous trips it will take to the bank.
‘You two go ahead,’ I shriek way too chirpily. ‘I’m not really hungry.’
My stomach has already eaten itself and made a start on my kidneys.
I’ve lost track of who owes what for the coaching. Nidi mentioned something before she went, but what was it? And I’m sure I asked Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen to do a spreadsheet or something. At that moment, my phone pings. It’s not Oliver. It’s from Nidi asking if me and Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen have booked the date and times for the singles event yet, and how the preparations are going as she can’t see any advertising on our Twitter or website for it. She has also had loads of enquiries to the work email about a coach trip. And another one asking if Jiff is alright because she received an unusual message from him asking if she had any contacts for a speech and language coach. I leave the texts unanswered and feel anxious.
Drinks was a stupid idea. I’ll wait until they leave and then rub the feck out of some crystals. ‘I forgot, I have the finances to do. And this event to organise,’ I say flatly, turning to go back into my office.
‘Please, Nell, even if you only have a few bites. Come with us,’ Ava pleads.
See? It’s them against me. They’re a firm ‘us’ after only one day doing admin together. I’m always the outsider. Always the one left out. But I could eat an entire family of cows.
‘Okay,’ I sigh making sure they both know that I have MUCH more important things to do with my time, ‘Just a quick bite and one drink, if I absolutely must.’
OMG I sound like a right ungrateful twat.
Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen pipes up. ‘My parents have restaurant by the marina.’
What? And she’s waited until now to mention this to me?
‘Wonderful!’ my sister chirps, turning to me. ‘What’s it like, Nell?’
One look at the embarrassed exchange between me and Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen gives Ava the answer she is after. Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen tells us quickly that it is Italian because her father is from southern Italy.
‘Small place, nothing fancy. La Bella Maria,’ she says.
‘That’s your parent’s restaurant?’ we say in unison.
‘That’s our favourite restaurant in the whole world, isn’t it, Nell? We used to go there all the time with our parents, didn’t we?’ Ava gushes. ‘I LOVE that place!’
Jeez, next Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen will be telling me that they’ve got a yacht and are embarrassingly wealthy. She beams at my sister and then looks shyly at me.
‘It’s really sweet how they named it after you,’ I say, remembering how crammed full of people it used to be. Tourists coming from up and down the coast to eat there. I know this for a fact, as it is always number one on TripAdvisor. ‘Your parents must be really proud of you.’
Maria-José-Inmaculada-Carmen blinks at me. ‘My family is… our relationship is muy complicado.’
Ava and I exchange a look.
‘Aren’t they all?’ I say stiffly.
Chapter 26
Afterbeingtalkedintoleaving the car at work, the three of us walk in awkward silence towards the main promenade, taking in its beautifully clean stretch of ornate paving, lined with pretty streetlamps and palm trees every few feet. The white pebbled beach gleams as it reflects the late evening sunshine. Our parents picked a lovely spot for their holiday villa.
As if reading my thoughts, Ava sighs happily, ‘I’ve always loved this place. It’s so soothing.’
She’s right. The mountains surrounding this bay, slope gently down towards the sea. The lush green land between is dotted with white villas, and the skyline is dominated by the magnificent, cobalt blue tiles of the church dome, high up on a hill, overlooking the marina. We would often walk up the cobbled streets of the white-washed village to the church, to drink in the atmosphere, to listen to the live music and watch the artists draw cartoon caricatures of tourists. The four of us would eat tapas in one of the many lively restaurants that line the square. I catch my sister’s eye. I think we are sharing the same happy memories.
I hastily look away.
Once we reach La Bella Maria, we see a queue out of the door.
