AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The plan had been for him to drive Charley to the centre then head back to Barcelona, but then she’d turned those gorgeous green eyes on him and said, ‘Come with us.’
He still didn’t understand why he hadn’t just refused as he had when she’d first suggested it. Said No, I’ve far too much work to do to spend time watching a bunch of people throw tomatoes at each other.
Most likely it was curiosity, to see for himself the event regarded as the world’s biggest food fight.
It wasn’t, he assured himself, because being away from Charley was becoming a physical pain.
There was no doubt though that their relationship had shifted dramatically since her seduction in his office. The last of her reserve towards him had vanished.
When they made love now nothing was held back. She laughed easily and walked as if she had springs implanted in her shoes.
She was happy. Being with him made her happy.
Being with her was like being with the woman he’d first fallen in love with...
When they arrived at the tiny hotel that overlooked Plaza del Pueblo, where most of the action would be taking place, they were greeted by the manager who led them straight up to the small roof terrace. From what Raul could see, their spot was one of the only ones that allowed spectators to actually see what was unfolding.
And what a sight it was. Tens of thousands of men and women were crammed in the plaza and the surrounding narrow streets, haulage trucks filled with crate upon crate of ripe tomatoes placed strategically alongside water cannons. Many of the shop fronts and homes had been protected with huge plastic sheets. Scores of mostly young men were attempting to shimmy their way up a two-storey pole with what looked like a hock of ham at the top, but he guessed it must be greased for the men got no further than a couple of feet before sliding back down on top of each other, only to immediately try again.
Chairs had been laid out for them; the terrace was safe enough for the kids to jump up and down with the excitement of it all.
Never in his wildest dreams had Raul imagined he would take a day off work to watch a tomato fight, and he imagined the look on his father’s face if he were to learn what his son had done. The disapproval would be as clear as the juice of the ripe tomatoes.
‘Next year I’m going to try and spend the week here and join in with the whole festival,’ Charley said, shouting over the chants of ‘Olé, olé, olé, olé!’ bellowing from the crowd. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement. Karin climbed onto her lap and she automatically put her arm around her waist to secure her. ‘I bet you’d love it too.’
Before he could respond, the roar of the water cannons signalled the start of the fight.
Carnage ensued, joyous, messy, glorious carnage.
Charley and the kids were in fits of laughter watching overripe tomatoes being thrown and squelched in all directions, the streets and the people that filled them soon a river of red juice.
He could hardly credit that he, Raul Cazorla, a man who enjoyed the finest of all the world had to offer, was enjoying something so...unrefined.
When he’d been growing up, his mother would have rather gone without her weekly pedicure than allow her children to attend something so messy and unbecoming. The Cazorlas had an image they protected fiercely; they were seen at the right places in the right clothes. The annual tomato fight at Buñol, preceded by a week-long festival, would most certainly have fallen onto the ‘unbecoming for a Cazorla’ list.
Something wet and squelchy slapped into his back. Turning his head, he saw that one of the children had thrown a tomato at him and was laughing so hard tears were falling down his face.
He saw the box of tomatoes, feet away from him, right at the moment Charley placed Karin on her seat and ran for it, grabbing a couple of tomatoes. Grinning widely, she squished them in her hands, then lobbed them at him.
He gazed down at what seconds before had been an immaculately pressed white silk shirt and was now dripping in juice and pips.
The others had got in on the act, except for Karin, who was clapping her hands, not knowing what was happening but reacting to the sounds of delight ringing out.
Charley dipped back into the box, her eyes sending out a clear challenge.
Raul never turned down a challenge.
* * *
Charley couldn’t remember ever having experienced such a magical day.
By the time the tomato fight had finished, they’d been as red as the people in the streets. The hotel manager had appeared with a hose to wash them all down. They’d returned to the centre wet and exhausted but happy.
‘You looked like you enjoyed yourself today,’ she said as they left the car park. It had surprised and delighted her how Raul had really got into the spirit of things on that little terrace, accepting the splatters of tomatoes from the children with good humour and retaliating with the gentlest of throws. His retaliation of her own throws at him had been markedly different; at one point he’d pinned her arms behind her back and encouraged the kids to use her as a target before squishing one right under her T-shirt. She was certain there were tomato pips stuck in the wiring of her bra.
