can hear her? “And some lipstick too surely.”
Merde!
“But, I er…like her.” Her tone is one of distaste, Daniel doesn’t notice it, or if he does, he's ignoring it for my sake.
He pauses wondering whether, like everyone who has a Mum, he should say something? Decides it’s not the time, like we all do, and lets her think it's OK. “Me too," he whispers, and I hear that too.
Bon. Pomme frites and mange tout. And that my friends, is all the French I know, my map reading is better.
We grab our things and I lead us up the steps, because I only have one speed, like Harry, its go or stop, so off I go. We stop several times on the way up to rest, we all have different levels of fitness but no one gets left behind and we start singing some Barbara Streisand songs to help us on our way, and the acoustics, I’d have to agree, are great.
Nearing the summit there’s a welcoming feint glow of light, I can hear someone in the house. I stop and raise a flat hand so Stan who's behind me can get his gun out. I saw this little move watching crime drama, and that genre has proved very useful on this trip, I'm sure you'd agree? I mean, where would we be now if I watched cake baking programmes?
Passing me in the threshold of the anteroom off the kitchen he steps out through the wedged door just as two figures come into the kitchen. We hear voices, he has told us to stay behind in the dark so if there's any trouble he will be alone. He peers around to check them out and his hand comes off his gun and it remains holstered. "Come up its OK." He tells us, his frame collapses in a relaxed stance, and he exhales.
As we climb the last steps and come out thankfully into air and the gleaming dark blue of before dawn. What we see is a complete surprise, (really?), and what we smell makes our hungry mouths water. “Martini? Shaken or stirred?” Asks Pete smiling, as she expertly skewers olives and tiny onions on cocktail sticks. Standing at the counter in the kitchen, wearing a Missoni bikini and J brand jeans. Her huge Tom Ford sunglasses on top of her head, he hair in a shiny brushed pony. I am so happy to see her.
“What?” Is all I can manage, I’m a woman of many words clearly.
James is making tea and breakfast, Pete doesn’t cook of course, she has a maid at home for that, and there are two police officers sitting comfortably in the living room sipping tea. “They've been whispering to themselves.” She tells us conspiratorially, “in Spanish, thinking we can't hear and hoping we don't understand.”
“And?” I ask her.
“They're expecting company, to meet them here.” Sounds like it's going to be another long day. Pete translates their dialogue, wincing at the language, and sending me a warning glance into the bargain. Apparently they like skinny women! Nothing would surprise me now, and I hug my friend, so glad she is here. And whilst we chat about her surprise few days retreat away with a hot boy, screams of laughter emanate from behind us as James is reunited with his parents, deep joy all round. Pete pulls on a hoodie in response to further lewd comments from the other room, and passes me a glass of dark red wine, it's just the ticket.
“Pete, what are you doing here?” I hug her tiny frame again, happy to smell civilisation in her perfume. She passes me a plate with some sour cream filled grilled potato skins and houloumi sticks with breadcrumbs. As I chew, I’m so happy with a link to real life, and of course it's the taste of civilisation, I increase the intensity of my interrogation, with a crooked eyebrow raising and a stern look.
“Jimmy and I fancied a weekend away as you well know, and….well…I couldn’t say no to the promised mystery tour could I?” She winks at James and he returns the gesture, such happiness in his face. She whispers close to my ear, “My knees can't take much more!” Happy for you?
James grabs her around the waist and pulls her close, “we fancied a few days in the sun, and heard it was a family affair.”
He glances conspiratorially at Stan, he has engineered this little get together? He kisses Pete on the head, she’s clearly smitten by