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Every day she sunbathed on a lounger for part of the time, she read the books she had brought, she watched TV or listened to her personal stereo. The routine soon grew a little boring, she had so few distractions, and time began to drag, but it was also very peaceful and she was getting a lot of rest, which was, after all, why she was here. She had come to Spain for sunshine and rest—well, she was getting both.
It did surprise her that she didn’t see anything of Gil as the days went by. She knew enough of him by now to know how tenacious and determined he could be; she had fully expected him to ignore what she’d said and turn up on her doorstep with every intention of talking her into going out for a drive with him. He didn’t. He didn’t show up in person—and he didn’t ring her either.
In fact, she didn’t hear from him at all. He might just as well have dropped off the edge of the world.
She told herself she was relieved. She told herself it was what she wanted. But she couldn’t stop thinking about him, and she kept catching herself looking out for him in the garden below her balcony, her eyes searching the trees for a glimpse of him walking from the beach to the hotel, or back again. She knew he swam every day, either in a pool or in the sea. She expected him to pass her apartment building sooner or later, but if he did she must have missed him.
She did, however, have a visitor on the morning of the fourth day. When someone rang her doorbell she was out on the balcony, sunbathing, and she jumped up, startled, stubbing her toe on the leg of a chair.
‘Ouch! Damn it!’ she muttered, hobbling to the door, her breathing fast and her skin hot.
It would be Gil, of course. She would send him away again because she had meant what she’d said—it was over—but she couldn’t stop the rapid beating of her heart or the quiver of eagerness to see him that she felt as she opened the door.
But it wasn’t Gil standing on her doorstep. The eagerness died, her heart slowed back to a normal beat.
‘Oh, Freddie! Hi!’
Freddie was wearing a pair of brief white shorts with a white T-shirt. She looked fabulous, much younger than her age. Her tan was even deeper, her eyes very bright, her short, blonde hair bleached to the colour of summer wheat.
She smiled at Bianca, her eyes flicking sympathetically over her. ‘You poor girl—how are you? You’re looking much better than I’d expected... those bruises are wearing off, aren’t they? I’d have come sooner, but Gil told us you didn’t want visitors. I didn’t like to be too pushy. We’re going home in a couple of days, though, and I did want a chance to see you before we left.’
Bianca held the door open, smiling wryly. ‘Come in and have a drink with me.’
They sat on the balcony in the sunshine, sipping ice-cold diet cola, talking lazily in the shade of an umbrella which fluttered in the faint sea breeze.
‘Are Karl and the children on the beach?’
Freddie nodded. ‘Where else? Gil is down there too.’
Bianca stared out across the gardens, the pulse in her throat beating with feeling. So he had gone down to the sea after all—and she had missed him. No doubt he had walked down there every day, but never at a time when she was looking into the gardens. She wondered if he had deliberately chosen a route that avoided her building, or a time when he might expect her not to see him.
After a little silence, Freddie said, ‘What’s wrong, Bianca? Between you and Gil? I know something is— he bites my head off whenever I mention you.’
Was he so angry with her that he hated her now? Anguish tore at her; she felt her throat burn with unshed tears.
‘There’s nothing wrong,’ she said in a voice made husky by the salt in her throat. ‘We saw each other a couple of times, but it was nothing important, and... and really I’m not the type for a holiday romance. I shall be going home myself shortly anyway.’
‘Is that what you said to Gil?’ probed Freddie, watching her with a sympathy that Bianca resented; she did not want Freddie being sorry for her or understanding how she felt.
‘I would rather not talk about it, if you don’t mind, Freddie!’ she said stiffly. ‘If Gil wants to tell you what we said to each other, that’s up to him.’
‘He wouldn’t tell me a thing!’ Freddie told her frankly.
‘Neither will I.’ But, contrarily, Bianca wished she knew what Gil was thinking, how he had really reacted to her decision. Freddie had said he bit her head off if she mentioned her—but what did his show of temper mean precisely?
Freddie shrugged. ‘OK. You’re both very irritating people, you know that?’ But she smiled to show she was teasing, then gave Bianca a closer stare, hesitated, and said, ‘You could disguise them, you know. The bruises, I mean—let me put some cover-up make-up on them. You’ll be amazed when you see what a difference it makes. People will have to come up really close to see them and even then they’ll be very faint, just shadows under the make-up.’
Bianca was tempted, but she shook her head. ‘I’ll look like a tart!’
‘Don’t be silly! I’ll do it very... oh, what is the word? Er...discreetly—yes, that is it—discreetly. Please, I’m very good with make-up. I’m a member of our local amateur dramatics society. I help out with everyone?
?s make-up during a show—even if I’m not in the play myself.’
‘Do you act?’ Bianca was interested; she had always wanted to join an amateur group herself, but she’d never had the time when her children were small, and by the time they were growing up Rob had died, and she had had to start work, leaving her no time for hobbies.
Freddie grinned at her. ‘When they give me a part! I am not brilliant, but I enjoy it, and so does Karl sometimes—except he rarely has the time to take a part. There’s so much work involved—rehearsals, learning the words—a production takes over your life for weeks, and he is simply too busy. It’s such a pity he can’t act more often because he has real talent—far more than I do! I enjoy helping out with the backstage work as much as the acting, and I enjoy doing the hair and make-up— so, will you let me try some make-up on your bruises tomorrow morning? Then you can come down on the beach with us. You must be tired of sitting around on your balcony or inside your apartment, yes?’
Bianca hesitated, then took the plunge. ‘OK, thanks, Freddie.’
