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There appeared to be nobody about outside in the gardens or the swimming-pool so she asked the waiter to carry the tray out on to the balcony, and when he had gone she ate breakfast in the early morning sunshine, safe from prying eyes, staring through the luxuriant, semi-tropical trees to the distant blue of the sea.
Gil’s red rose had a delicate scent; she kept looking at it, her breath catching in a sigh of regret.
If only...
But there was no point in starting a sentence with those words—there never was any point in wishing things were different. You just had to face up to the reality of your situation, and get on with life as you found it.
She had to forget about Gil.
How do you do that? her mind asked bitterly. They had got to know each other so fast—the days they had been together had flashed past with lightning speed and yet they had both learnt an incredible amount about each other. She had known others for a much longer time and never found out as much about them.
Time had behaved in a very strange way since she’d arrived in Spain. She seemed to have been here forever— yet it was just under a week since she’d started her holiday. It gave her vertigo to contemplate the way time had whizzed past and then dragged; no wonder she was dazed and confused! Looking back, she remembered grimly how she had come here for a rest. A peaceful holiday, relaxing in the sun, by the sea, was what she had been looking for.
Peaceful! These few days had been among the most eventful of her life! She was exhausted. She needed a holiday to get over her holiday. Except that she didn’t want another holiday—she wanted to go home.
Yet she couldn’t face the journey looking like this! People would stare; she could just imagine how they would sneak sideways glances at her, whisper, conjecture ... it would be a nightmare.
A movement among the trees startled her. She looked down and saw Gil watching her. He raised a hand, walking towards the apartment block.
He was coming to see her. Her heart skipped a beat; she felt colour creeping under her skin.
She was expecting him to ring her front door bell, and decided to open it but not admit him. He did ring the bell, but he did not wait or give her time to decide what to do—having rung, he immediately used a pass key to admit himself and walked in, so that they confronted each other in the sitting-room a moment later.
He was not wearing his dark, hotel manager uniform today—instead he was wearing a smoothly tailored pale beige linen suit, a soft brown shirt, no tie, his collar open at the throat, showing her the beautiful golden skin that had made her notice him the first time she’d seen him.
He studied her closely, his eyes searching. ‘Did you sleep? You look better this morning.’
‘I’m fine.’ If only he wouldn’t stare! She felt his gaze on her skin as if he were touching the bruises, and flinched.
He noted the tiny movement and frowned. ‘Does your face hurt much?’
‘It throbs a bit.’ What sort of question was that? Stupid man, she thought. Of course it hurt; it was painful every time she smiled or frowned.
‘I’ll get the hotel nurse over to put some more ointment on the bruises.’
‘I can do it myself—if she could supply the ointment, please.’
He nodded. ‘OK, but I think she should see it this morning, just to check on you.’ He paused, looking at her gravely. ‘Have you decided whether or not you want to go home? The other night you said—’
‘I know what I said!’ she interrupted with impatience because he had touched on what was mostly bothering her at the moment. ‘I meant it—I do want to go home, but...’ she gestured towards her face, her eyes angry ‘... not while I look like this!’
‘You’d frighten the life out of your children!’ he agreed, smiling at her, and her mouth curled into a reluctant smile in reply.
‘I was thinking more about getting stared at all the way from here to England, but you’re right—it would give Tom and Vicky a shock.’
‘Do they know you were mugged?’
She shook her head. ‘It didn’t seem a good idea to talk about it on the phone. It might worry them.’
‘And it would worry them even more to hear what happened last night!’
‘I’m sure it would.’
‘Will you tell them when you get home?’ He considered her drily and she gave him a defiant look.
‘I’ll tell them I was mugged, I expect—I’ll have to, to explain why I need to come back here for the court case.’
‘But not that you came close to being raped?’
