Chapter 33
Things are awkward from the moment Sam and I exchange a hello at the airport and he tells me with a friendly smile that I’m looking ‘well’.
‘You’ve obviously been playing a lot of tennis, Jules,’ he adds. ‘I think you’ve caught the sun already.’
I keep my distance in the line to board, chatting to any member of our group but him.
At one point, he is clearly heading my way but a woman starts struggling to get her buggy down some steps and he diverts to help.
She’s flustered and grateful and there’s something about this tiny act of heroism that makes my heart surge, then irritates me no end.
A text from Gavin arrives just as I’m taking my seat on the plane, next to Nora and a safe distance from Sam a few rows in front.
It’s a selfie, taken in a bathroom mirror, in which he’s topless and proudly displaying his latest ‘gains’.
I have no idea how many press-ups he’s done today, but from this angle he has bigger boobs than me.
‘Have a wonderful trip! See you when you get back! X’
I am wincing as I compose a response.
‘Someone’s clearly been hitting the gym today! Thanks Gavin. See you soon!’ I leave off a kiss and add a smiley face at the end instead, though I couldn’t exactly tell you why.
It’s the early hours of the morning when we step off the plane, but the dry Spanish heat hits us like a wall.
There’s a short drive to the resort, which has a five-star hotel and three championship golf courses, though it’s too dark to see any of those right now.
Instead, we drive along wide, quiet roads flanked by palm trees and whitewashed villas, lit up by the soft glow of street lamps.
We pass a cluster of shops and tapas restaurants then check in to the hillside complex where we’ll be staying.
After showers and a chat on the balcony, I head to the twin room I’m sharing with Nora to find Frankie has texted.
‘So how is Spain? I’m so glad you decided to go! X’
‘Hot! But we only arrived late so I haven’t seen much yet. Excited about the tennis tomorrow though x’
‘I wish we’d co-ordinated things better so I could see you,’ she says.
‘Why, is everything okay?’
‘Of course. Just missing you, that’s all, mummy dearest xx’
I smile at the last two words, which are ironic. She started calling me ‘mum’ at three years old, the first of many small acts of defiance.
‘Well, I miss you too. Lots. xxx’
‘Glad to hear it. Listen, have an amazing time. And MOST importantly. . .’
There are a few undulating dots before her last message comes through. ‘No hitchhiking okay? ?? x’
I think that’s her idea of a joke.
I turn off the phone as Nora and I slip into each twin bed and chat for nearly half an hour, about all manner of random subjects. Like the night sweats she’s started getting recently and how her daughter’s getting on at uni and why people are suddenly obsessed with apple cider vinegar.
‘I’ve been sent a link about it twice this week,’ she says, shaking her head. ‘One about how it can reduce cholesterol, the other about using it to clean windows. I’m trying to work out how those two things are compatible.’
I laugh as she props herself up on an elbow.
‘Hey, have you brought earplugs?’ she asks.
‘No. Why, do you snore?’
‘Well, Iain has never mentioned it so I don’t think so,’ she says. ‘But now I’m here I’m slightly paranoid.’
‘From all the way over here, I can’t boot you in the back like Ed used to tell me I should do.’
She smiles. ‘Did you?’
‘What, boot him in the back?’ I smile. ‘Only if it didn’t work when I nudged him with my elbow. That usually worked, unless he’d had red wine beforehand, in which case I might as well have given up on sleep entirely.’
‘Oh, red wine is the worst. I think it should be illegal for all married men over the age of forty to drink it,’ she says. Her smile quickly fades into a silence.
‘You must really miss him, Jules. Ed was such a wonderful person.’
I nod. ‘He really was.’
We finally get round to turning off the light, but even then, the conversation continues about what’s in store tomorrow.
Because, despite my concerns about how I’ll avoid Sam, just being here has unknotted something inside me.
Maybe it’s the continental warmth. Or the prospect of more tennis.
Or simply that I’m lying here, feeling like I’m at a sleepover for the first time since I was fourteen years old.