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‘Yes,’ said Bianca reluctantly, and in the mirrored walls saw Freddie standing staring in the doorway, eyes round and saucer-shaped, mouth open too.
When she had her breath back Freddie said, ‘How much is it?’
Bianca told her.
‘Buy it,’ said Freddie. ‘It’s a bargain. You look a million dollars, and it’s a classic; you’ll be able to wear it for years and years, so long as you stay the same size.’
After a brief hesitation Bianca had to admit that she wanted the dress; it looked even better than she had dared dream. She paid for it and the manageress packed it up in tissue paper and a large cardboard box, then Bianca and Freddie walked back through the narrow, windy little streets of Marbella, buying fruit and vegetables from a stall at a local market, and then some locally made goat’s cheese, rolled in chopped pepper, some crusty, golden bread and a bag of Churros, cooked right in front them on a small gas ring—they turned out to be long, twisty, freshly cooked doughnuts, smothered in sugar while they were still hot.
Eventually they found Karl and the children sitting in a cafe in a flower-decked square, drinking hot chocolate, and sat down with them. The two boys and their sister were excitedly full of what they had bought to take back as presents for friends and relatives, and when they asked what Bianca had bought she only had to say, ‘A dress!’ for them to lose interest.
The sun was getting quite hot; the shade of the cafe blind was pleasant, the hot chocolate delicious. They sat there for a long time, lazily staring around at the passers-by and the narrow streets, the old buildings, the distant blue haze of the mountains which could be seen from where they sat.
A sound made Bianca stiffen. A motorbike was weaving its way around the square; she saw the domed helmets of the rider and his passenger, the black leather, and she went white, holding her breath.
‘What’s wrong?’ Freddie asked, staring at her.
The motorbike shot past them and disappeared up a side-street. Bianca sagged in relief.
‘Nothing,’ she said shakily. ‘Nothing at all. Maybe we should be getting back to the hotel, though?’
They got back to the hotel just in time for lunch and met up again in the dining room. The usual buffet was laid out—Bianca collected salad, great pink prawns cooked with rice and peas, a slice of cold chicken and some coleslaw. Karl had ordered white wine and insisted that she must have some.
She sipped it, listening to him talking about the headlines in that day’s papers; Karl had strong views on international politics. He was obviously a clever man, strong-minded and forceful. Bianca was struck, too, by the way he and Freddie talked to each other and to their children. The warmth between them all made her envious, nostalgic, a little lonely—it reminded her of the happiness she had had with Rob, all gone now, vanished like summer flowers when the frosts of winter started.
She felt shut out of the circle of family which bound the others together. She ached for the days that had gone. She missed her children. She hadn’t rung them since she arrived—she would ring them tonight, she decided, when they were both likely to be at home.
She spent the afternoon on the beach, swimming, sunbathing, resting under a striped umbrella and occasionally having the beach attendant bring her a glass of sparkling mineral water stiff with chunks of ice and slices of lemon. Freddie and her family were near by, Karl and the children playing energetic beach games as usual while Freddie watched them indulgently without stirring herself from her mattress.
When the sun began to slide down the sky, and the air chilled, Bianca went back to her apartment, had a leisurely bath and then put on a robe and sat on her bed, painting her nails while she watched a Spanish version of an American film she had seen several times. She couldn’t understand a word that was spoken but she knew, at least, what was happening!
At half-past six, when she could reasonably hope that her children were both likely to be in, she rang home, but it was neither of them who picked up the phone. Instead, she heard a voice she recognised at once with a leap of alarm.
‘Judy? Judy, what are you doing there? Is something wrong? Has something happened to one of the children? What—?’
‘Calm down!’ Judy said, laughing. ‘Typical of you, Bianca, to get into a panic over nothing. There’s nothing wrong with your precious kids. I called round to check that they were OK, that’s all, and to bring them a hot meal. We had a blizzard yesterday and snow blocked all the roads; it’s so cold I’m wearing two sweaters! I was worried about ‘Vicky and Tom coping if the pipes froze while they were out all day with the central heating turned off so I popped in on my way home from the shop. They’re fine. They left the heating on, it seems! A bit extravagant, but in the circumstances a smart move because the house was very warm when I arrived. I brought them a lamb casserole I’d cooked overnight—they only have to reheat it and it’s full of vegetables, so they won’t have to cook anything to go with it. I put it in the oven for them.’
Touched, Bianca said, ‘You are kind! That was very thoughtful; I’m grateful, Judy. I hope they said thank you.’
‘Several times, with real feeling—when I arrived they were squabbling over whose turn it was to cook the baked beans on toast!’
Stricken, Bianca groaned. ‘Is that all they’re eating?’
Judy laughed. ‘Of course not! If it wasn’t so cold they would be living on no-cook salad and yoghurt, I gathered, but Tom was starving because it was so cold and he wanted a hot meal. Don’t you worry—they are getting enough to eat. You aren’t to feel guilty—I know you! The fridge was full of food, and Tom had a huge bagful of apples he was grazing on when I arrived. So, how is the holiday going?’
‘Fine,’ Bianca said a little self-consciously.
‘Met any tall, dark, handsome strangers yet?’
‘Well...’ Bianca’s voice trailed off; she bit her lip. She had not had an answer prepared; she had not been expecting to talk to Judy. She had been caught off guard. Neither of her children would have asked her such a question.
‘You have!’ crowed Judy. ‘Well, come on...tell me all!’
‘There’s nothing to tell.’
‘What’s his name?’
Bianca suddenly wanted to confide in someone; she needed to talk about him, about the way she felt, and Judy knew her better than anyone else in the world now.
