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‘I don’t get much time for reading,’ she said in the same stiff, unreal voice. ‘Except in bed, late at night, when I’m usually too tired to read for long.’
His grey eyes flicked at her, glittering. ‘Sleeping alone isn’t good for you. A book is no substitute for a man.’
Her face turned scarlet. She gave him a furious look, stood up, and walked out of the bedroom, towards the door of her apartment. Gil followed her coolly. She opened the door and stood back to let him pass her.
‘Goodbye, Senor Marquez!’
He gave her a look that made her ears boom with hypertension, but he said nothing, just walked out. Bianca slammed the door after him.
CHAPTER SIX
Bianca needed some air, she was so hot, and it would be nice to feel cool water on her overheated skin. After hurriedly changing into a black and white striped swimsuit, she went out to the swimming-pool below her balcony, where she had first seen Gil, and lowered herself gratefully into the water. Most of the hotel guests were down at the beach, she realised, hearing loud voices, laughter and music from that direction. There was nobody else in the pool; she had it to herself.
She swam a few lengths energetically, then slowed down. The sun was low on the horizon, the air full of the sound of bird-calls and the flapping of wings as they flew between the trees. The garden of the hotel was almost tropical, full of palms and wide-leaved trees swathed in creepers, some of them vivid with blue, red and purple flowers. Bianca floated on her back, staring up at the deepening blue of the sky—she would have to go in soon but she was reluctant to move yet; she felt physically content, euphoric after her exercise.
Voices near by startled her. Lifting her head, she looked around. Freddie was walking past with her husband and children, after hours on the beach, from the look of them, all wearing swimsuits, carrying towels and books, sunglasses pushed up into their hair, their faces sun-flushed, their bodies sandy. After saying hello, Karl and the children ran on to their apartment to have showers while Freddie paused to chat to Bianca, who had swum to the end of the pool and was treading water, her wet hair plastered to her head.
‘It’s been a lovely day here,’ Freddie told her. ‘We were on the beach most of the day! How did you enjoy Granada? Isn’t the Alhambra sensational?’
‘Fabulous,’ agreed Bianca, wondering how Freddie knew where she had been. Had Gil told her? Did Freddie know that Gil had followed her to Granada? Bianca didn’t like to ask; she didn’t want to discuss Gil with his sister-in-law; she didn’t want to admit a personal interest in him. Instead, she talked about the Alhambra—the palace and the amazing Generalife, the gardens surrounding it, their shady walks, the wonderful fountains of roses, the clove scent of carnations scenting the air, the dazzling colours and perfumes assaulting the senses.
‘I love it too,’ agreed Freddie. ‘But it’s always so crowded with people. I’d love to go there when it was shut to the public...but then, I suppose, I am the public, so it would be shut to me too!’
Bianca laughed. ‘That’s just what I thought, and Gil said that tourism kills the thing it loves, which is so true! The more of us that travel, the more impossible it gets to enjoy the places we go to see! But all the same, while I’m here, I would like to see any other interesting places there are around here—can you recommend any?’
‘You ought to go to Ronda—it’s one of the oldest cities in Spain, not too far to drive from here; I’m sure there are coaches that go there. It’s up in the hills, the most amazing place—it’s cut in half by a huge gorge with a bridge over it; you can lean over and look down about fifty feet, all these great jagged rocks and trees and creepers growing out of them. It gives me vertigo. Half the town is modern Spanish, w
ith long, straight streets, and on the other side of the gorge there’s the old Moorish town, which is all alleys and windy little streets, with a palace they call Casa del Rey Moro... the palace of the Moorish king... and there’s a cathedral that used to be the mosque. Bullfighting was started in Ronda by some famous bullfighter called Pedro Romera, right back in the eighteenth century; they’re very proud of that there. At one time the hills around the town—the Serrania de Ronda—were full of some pretty bloodthirsty bandits. I think these days most of them are working in restaurants and hotels, judging by the prices of drinks around the bar down on the beach!’
‘It’s the same in tourist spots all over the world these days, isn’t it?’ said Bianca.
‘I suppose so. It cost me a fortune to have dinner in London a few months back! Talking of dinner, Karl and I wondered if you would have dinner with us in the hotel dining-room tomorrow? And don’t worry...the children are going to eat in the apartment.’
‘Oh—oh, thank you, that’s very kind,’ stammered Bianca, wondering if Gil was going to make up a foursome with them, afraid of seeing him again. It would be too embarrassing, remembering what had happened in her apartment earlier. She wouldn’t be able to look at him!
But she didn’t want to hurt Freddie’s feelings, either, which left her in an impasse. What was she to do? She liked Freddie very much and Karl seemed pleasant. She would enjoy dinner with them in other circumstances-it was just a pity they were related to Gil Marquez.
‘So you’ll come?’ pressed Freddie, watching her curiously.
How could she refuse? She could hardly plead another engagement.
‘I’d love to,’ she said huskily, very flushed; she looked at Freddie and away, restlessly, her heart beating far too fast. ‘What time?’
‘About eight? You remember how late the Spanish eat? Can you meet us in the piano bar for drinks at eight?’
Bianca nodded. ‘Eight in the piano bar. OK.’
Freddie turned away then stopped and looked back over her shoulder. ‘Oh...I forgot to say...they’re having a band in after dinner, for dancing; they do that several times a week and it’s fun—I love to dance, don’t you? So wear something you can dance in.’
Bianca looked at her uncertainly. ‘Well... actually I wanted to go into Marbella to buy a dress I spotted in a shop window... The trouble is, I’m not supposed to leave the hotel grounds; Gil insists I have someone with me if I do.’
‘Well, why don’t you come with us to Marbella tomorrow? We were going shopping there anyway; the children have been begging to go to town, to buy presents to take back to their friends, and Karl and I have family presents to buy. We have our car with us; we drove down here from Germany. We could fly and hire a car, of course, but Karl likes to have his own car with him; it’s a Mercedes—we know we can rely on it and it has plenty of room in it for the luggage. It’s very spacious; Karl and the kids can sit in the back and you can sit in the front with me.’
‘Are you sure?’ said Bianca.
‘Absolutely sure. We’d love to take you, and I’ll come along and help you buy the dress; I know your Spanish isn’t very good.’
‘You’re very kind; thank you very much.’
