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There, with his hand still by the rope of the doorbell, was a portly man whose head was as round as his belly, and wore a pair of aviator sunglasses that masked his eyes. Rather than the golden skin tone of Hugo, his complexion was red, while his small, white soul patch had the unfortunate effect of making his chin look even rounder. And on the ground beside him, with his left hand still on the handle, was her suitcase.
‘Thank you so much.’ She was near breathless at the reunion with her belongings. ‘I am so grateful. Thank you.’
She reached out for the suitcase, only for the man to tug it back and away from her.
‘English?’ His accent was thick, though Holly understood it perfectly.
‘Yes, yes, I’m English. Thank you. Thank you.’
She took a step forward to take the bag, but once again, the man wheeled it away from her. He was scratching his head, coughing out several sounds.
‘Monday? Monday?’ He repeated.
‘Yes, I left it at the airport on Monday.’
‘No. Mon… mond…’ The man rubbed his fingers together in a universal gesture and suddenly it made sense.
‘Money! Of course. You need money. Wait here.’
In the excitement of dashing to get Evan’s wallet, Holly barely even noticed her ankle, except in that it wasn’t hurting half as much as she expected. It looked as if this day was just getting better and better.
Upon grabbing Evan’s wallet, she returned to the taxi driver.
‘How much?’ she asked.
He looked at her blankly and pointed to the wallet.
‘Money.’
‘Yes, I know, but how much do I give you?’
She lifted her fingers, trying to communicate her question, while all the while drowning in embarrassment. Why could she not remember a single word of French from school? She must’ve been able to ask how much something was back then, but her mind was blank. ‘Un? Deux? Trois?’
The embarrassment rolled through her in waves. He was speaking to her, saying numbers no doubt, but it was all so fast. Holly just couldn’t make sense of it. At school everything had been slowed down and clearly enunciated to help them understand. There was no enunciation here, at least not that she could tell. She opened the wallet, intending to remove some money, only to stop.
A thick wedge of notes was packed into the large pocket, but it was the denominations that surprised her. On the rare occasions that she carried cash, it comprised a couple of crumpled five- and ten-pound notes and a ton of heavily jangling shrapnel. But this looked like an entire day’s takings at the shop, and on a good day.
Not knowing which note was which, she removed one, ready to work out what the value was, when she caught sight of a photo in the card slot. She knew it was exceptionally bad taste to look through anyone’s wallet, no matter how well you knew them, but there was something about the top of the image that made it impossible for her to draw her eyes away. Still holding the note, she slipped the photo up.
Her throat tightened. In the image, Evan was smiling brightly, his arm around the waist of a woman and from the way she was looking at him and smiling, she was not just a casual acquaintance. And there wasn’t only one photo. Removing the first revealed a second one beneath.
The tightening was replaced by full heart palpitations. How had she been so ridiculous? Rich, mature men who had their lives together would not be interested in her.
She would have stayed there for hours, staring at the photos had it not been for the taxi driver’s hand moving towards her.
Only then did she remember the note she was holding and the fact she hadn’t yet paid him. Glancing at the thin rectangle of plastic, she had barely noted its worth when he pulled it out from her grip.
‘Merci! Merci beaucoup.’ He swiftly turned and headed out the door, the two hundred euro note that she had been holding only a moment ago racing away with him.
‘Hey!’ Holly lunged to follow him, but the driver was already disappearing into his car.
‘Merci, mademoiselle. Au revoir!’ he yelled with a look of pure satisfaction.
24
Holly felt like a fool. Not only had she just let a taxi driver head off with two hundred euros for what was probably a fifty-euro trip, but she had genuinely believed Evan liked her when he clearly had a stream of girls at his beck and call. For all she knew, he was probably lining up dates with Naomi and Zahida, too. As she continued to look in his wallet, she found more small passport size photos, a couple of which looked as if they’d been taken in a photo booth, another one had been obviously cut down from a larger photo. Who would do that? Who would be so arrogant that they would flaunt their infidelities? Or conquests. That was probably a better word for it. Not that he was cheating on her. They hadn’t even had their first date, but it was these other women Holly felt sorry for.
On a positive note, it was incredibly satisfying to be wearing her own underwear and clothes as she headed back downstairs, ready to while away a few more hours with her book. The sun was high in the sky, and the heat of the day caused ripples in the air, which led her to think about the others on the hike. It was doubtful whether there would be much shade to shelter them from the sun, although the sympathy she felt was conflicted by a hint of amusement as she wondered exactly how Tyler and Naomi were faring with their hangovers.
