“Oh, it’s beautiful,” Eve gasped, leaning forwards.
She beamed up at her dad, then turned round and grinned at me.
I forced a smile onto my mouth.
You remembered I’m here, then?
Eve looked puzzled, but she didn’t say anything. Just turned back and started chatting to her dad again.
The holiday was not, I felt, getting off to a good start.
4
Bonita rules
The light was starting to fade by the time Jonno slowed the car to pull through Cala del Toro. It was very quiet – road after road of old, tall terraced buildings with flower boxes at the windows. The main street was slightly busier, full of little shops with faded awnings.
We swung round a big stone plaza with a huge tree in the middle. Dotted around the edges were a series of tables and chairs, each obviously belonging to one of the cafes in the roads opposite the square.
They were mostly empty.
“Nothing much gets going till at least nine or ten here,” Jonno said. “Later on the plaza’ll be really happening.”
Really happening? For God’s sake.
I glanced at Ryan, hoping to exchange a grimace, but he was staring out of the window.
A mile or so along the empty road out of Cala del Toro and we reached a high stone wall. Jonno slowed the Jeep.
“We’re here. La Villa Bonita,” he announced. “Bonita means pretty,” he added, turning to Eve. “I named it after you.”
“Da-ad,” Eve murmured. But I could tell she was pleased.
I scowled. What an idiot.
Jonno pulled the Jeep through an arch in the stone wall. A sprawling white building stood at the end of a long, dusty drive. Part of it was on two floors, the rest was flat-roofed and fronted with brightly coloured flowers.
I had to admit the effect was . . . well . . . pretty.
As Jonno stopped the car outside a long wooden porch, two guys in blue jackets appeared from nowhere, rushing to open both front doors. A whoosh of warm air entered the freezing car interior.
“Hola, Señor Ripley,” one of them said in a thick Spanish accent. “Good trip?”
“Yeah, cheers, Marco.” Jonno jumped out and clapped the nearer of the two guys on the back. He was young. Probably no older than me or Ry. And quite short, with a slightly blobby nose. He grinned past Jonno to us in the back.
I scrambled out of the car, enjoying the feel of the warm air against my skin. It was still hot, but not humid any more, with a light breeze. In the distance I could hear the tumble and splash of the sea. Crickets rasped all around us. It was perfect, except . . . I looked at Eve. I was sure she was avoiding me now.
“Marco, take Ryan and Lance to their room will you?” Jonno said.
I glared at him. Lance?
Ryan sniggered, but Jonno didn’t appear to notice.
“I’ll show the girls to their rooms myself,” he said. “Everyone meet in the lobby. Half an hour.”
He stuck a fat cigar in his mouth, then flung his arms round Eve and Chloe and herded them towards the front entrance. I took a step after them, but Marco laid his hand on my arm.
“No that way, please,” he said. “You follow me?”
Ryan and I were sharing a room round the side of the hotel. It was at the end of a long row – large and square, with a tile floor and two single beds.
Marco pointed to the TV in the far corner. “No Sky,” he grinned. “Only Spanish TV.”
“No worries, man,” Ryan said. “We’re not here to watch TV, ’cept maybe a bit of football.”
Marco laughed. “You like Real Madrid? Everyone from England like Real?”
“Nah, I’m more of a Barca fan.” And Ryan was off, chatting away like he’d known Marco for years. It turned out Marco lived nearby and was working at La Villa Bonita over the school holidays. I stood by the window tuning in and out of their conversation and staring at a patch of concrete outside. A low brick wall ran halfway across it, then just stopped, as if someone had started building and then given up.
I wondered where Eve was.
“My girlfriend has many friends,” Marco was saying. “They like the English boys. Is same with us, liking the English girls.”
I stomped off to take a shower.
When I came out Marco had gone and Ryan was lying on one of the beds, grinning. “That guy was cool,” he said. “And there’s loads of people our age here as well.” He sat up. “This sharing a room thing isn’t going to make any difference either.”
I stared at him. “It freakin’ is,” I said. “You’re not bringing Chloe back here.”
Ryan laughed. “It stays hot outside until gone midnight, man. And the hotel’s got its own private beach. Think about it.”
The lobby was a short walk away, back inside the main part of the hotel. Jonno was chatting to the reception staff as we wandered through a sea of squashy-looking sofas and chairs. The place was fairly busy – like Eve had said, full of families with young kids.
Jonno saw us coming and strode over, a cigar still clamped to his lips. “Ryan. Lance.” He slapped us both on the back. “Room okay?”
“Great, sir,” Ryan said.
Sir?
I stared at Ryan. Where had that come from?
“What about you, Lance, got everything you need?” Jonno grinned at me.
“It’s Luke,” I said. “My name. Not Lance. Luke.”
Jonno nodded vaguely. He looked up. “Here they are, the original Bonitas.”
I followed his gaze. Eve and Chloe were wandering through the door at the other end of the lobby. They drifted slowly towards us, attracting admiring glances from the entire room. They were both wearing short dresses and their hair looked different, though I couldn’t exactly work out how. Eve’s dress was all clingy and swishy, floating out over the tops of her long, slim legs.
She looked totally amazing.
I jerked forwards as Jonno slapped me on the back again. He put his arm round me and gripped my far shoulder. I could see he had Ryan on the other side in exactly the same position.
“Now boys.” He forced us into this standing huddle, leaning his head down so it was nearer ours. “You’re Eve’s friends and I want you to have a good time while you’re here. We’ll talk about the few jobs I want you to do tomorrow. But I want you to feel free to have fun here. Mi casa es tu casa and all that. Understand?”
I nodded, wishing he would let go of my shoulder.
Jonno dug his fingers in harder. “But there are two rules. And they’re non-negotiable. Break them and you leave. Immediately.” He paused. “The first: do nothing – I repeat nothing – that will embarrass my guests. Get as pissed as you like, but in your own time and not in any of the public areas. Shag whoever you like on the staff, but no holiday romances with the clients. Okay?”
I nodded. I could see Ryan doing the same on Jonno’s other side. I tried to move away. Jonno’s hands were like clamps. His grip tightened even further. Then he let go of Ryan and looked straight at me.
“Second rule. Whatever you were hoping would happen with my daughter while you were out here – forget it. Do not touch her. Do not so much as lay a single finger on her. I will know if you do.”
What? I stared at him, my heart pounding. Surely he must know Eve and I were going out together? Surely she must’ve told him?
“Go anywhere near her and you’ll be out of here as fast as I can kick you. Via a hospital, probably. Geddit?”
Jonno glanced at Ryan, who nodded fervently at him. Then he turned to me. “Lance?” he said.
I looked down at the floor. “I hear what you’re saying,” I stammered. “Sir.”
“Good.” Jonno at last released us with a final slap on the back. He strode forwards to greet Eve and Chloe. I caught Ryan’s eye.
“The man’s a lunatic,” Ryan said, a note of admiration in his voice. “Glad I’m not you, mate.”
I rubbed my bruised shoulder.
Jonno kissed Eve and Ch
loe on both cheeks, then strode over to the reception desk. The girls drifted up to us. Ryan started in on how fabulous Chloe was looking. Eve looked up at me expectantly. I blinked, still trying to make sense of what Jonno had said. There was only one explanation.
“You didn’t tell him.”
Eve frowned. “Who? What?”
“You didn’t tell your dad I was your boyfriend,” I said, my anger mounting. “Why? Are you ashamed of me or something?”
Eve looked round nervously.
“We’re going for a walk,” Ryan said. He and Chloe slipped away.
Eve and I sat down in the squishy chairs.
“Well?”
Eve flushed. “He gets so weird about me dating guys. I thought he might not let you come if I told him. I was going to say something once we arrived. I haven’t had a chance yet.”
I told her what Jonno had said to me and Ryan. “And the way he said he’d know if anyone touched you made it sound like he had hidden cameras everywhere – or spies watching out for you.”
Her face fell. Then she looked up at me. “It doesn’t need to matter that much, does it?”
“What?” I gaped at her.
“I mean we can still hang out together.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “But I won’t be able to kiss you, or . . . or anything.”
“So?” Eve’s eyes narrowed. “Is that all you care about?”
“Of course not, but . . . but. . .”
She folded her arms. “But what?”
“You’re my girlfriend.”
Eve shrugged and looked away. “I still am. It’s just . . . we have to be careful. That’s all.”
I sat back in my chair, defeated. I was sure Ryan would have come up with something that would have rescued the situation, but whatever that something was, it was way beyond me.
5
La hija del jefe
Eve stayed in a mood with me until Jonno appeared to usher us all into the dining room for our evening meal. He explained that the hotel had two sittings – one for all the young families at six, and another, at eight, which was a bit more grown-up.
We went in early for the second sitting, in time to see several hotel staff scurrying about picking up what looked like the remains of a food fight off the floor.
Eve saw me looking around and sidled up.
“Never eat at six,” she whispered. “The English kids are disgusting.” She ran her fingers down the inside of my arm. “Though maybe you should – get you in practice for having a baby brother or sister.”
The touch of her hand was so distracting I walked straight into the back of a chair coated with tomato ketchup. I looked down. A dark red line was smeared messily across my crisp white shirt. Crap.
“I’ll show you where the bathrooms are,” Eve said quickly.
I glanced at Jonno, but he was deep in a football conversation with Ryan. We slipped out, but instead of heading to the door marked Servicios/Toilets, Eve doubled back round the side of the main lobby and led me up the main staircase to the first floor.
“Where are we going?” I said.
“My room,” she smiled. “You can use the bathroom there.”
She slid her card key through a door stamped with the words Privado/Private. The corridor beyond immediately felt different to the rest of the hotel. Messier and homier, with magazines and mugs of old coffee on the tables and photos of Eve and Jonno lining the walls.
I caught sight of one of Eve, aged about seven, wearing a long, white dress with some sort of tiara on her head. It was similar to a picture in her mum’s house, except that in this one she was holding Jonno’s hand.
“From when I made my first Holy Communion.” Eve made a face. “Daddy’s idea. God knows why. He’s about the most lapsed Catholic you could meet.”
I looked at the photo again. Under the little tiara, Eve’s blonde bob hung straight and smooth, not a wisp of hair out of place. The blue ribbon on the front of her dress was tied in a perfectly-formed bow. “You look like a doll,” I said.
“Yeah, I know. Come on.” Eve walked away, pointing to the doors on the left as she passed them. “Mini-kitchen. Dad’s room. Guest room. Big bathroom. Living room.” She stopped at the two doors right at the end. “Chloe,” she pointed to the one on the left. “And me.”
“Mmmn,” I said. “So you’re as far away from the rest of the hotel as he can get you.”
“I know.” Eve grimaced. “At least there aren’t any security cameras in here.”
She opened the door and I followed her into a huge bedroom. A big double bed with floaty pale pink material hanging around it stood in the middle of the far wall. Huge white closets, roses on the curtains, an ornate dressing table with a big china doll on top. It was nothing like Eve’s bedroom at home.
I screwed up my face. “Bit little girly isn’t it?”
Eve sighed. “This is who Dad thinks I am. His only child – a little girl dreaming of dolls and pink cushions.” She started unbuttoning my shirt. “He’s got no idea.”
I looked down at her long slim fingers. The nails scraped gently across my stomach as she slid her fingers round the buttons.
God. How horny was that?
I put my arms around her. “Won’t he get suspicious if we don’t go straight back?”
Eve looked up at me. She grinned. “I was just going to rinse the ketchup off your shirt,” she said.
“Oh. Oh yeah.” I tugged off my shirt and followed her through a door in the corner of her room into the bathroom. It was all swirly white furniture and mirrors. The counter was littered with pots and lotions and tubes.
Eve held the ketchup stain under running water. I came up behind her. We looked at each other’s reflection in the mirror.
“I’m sorry about earlier.” Eve’s face flushed. “It’s just so weird being here with you and my dad.” She wrung out the shirt, then smiled up at me.
I slid my hands round to the front of her dress.
“You look amazing.” I bent down and kissed her neck.
Eve laughed, wriggling away from me. “Listen.” She turned round. “We’ll have to be careful in the hotel, but outside we should be all right. We’ll still have lots of time together.” She looked up, into my eyes. “Starting later tonight. Okay?”
“Good.” I tried to kiss her again.
“Later,” she said firmly.
I put my damp shirt back on and we went downstairs.
Back in the dining room all the mess had been cleared away and the tables were transformed with white cloths and sparkling silver candles. The room was starting to fill up with hotel guests – mostly couples and families with older kids. Jonno shot me a fierce look as we came back to the table. Determined not to flinch, I stared right back at him.
“I was just showing Luke where the bathrooms are.” Eve pointed to the faded ketchup stain on my shirt.
“And I was just telling Chloe and Ryan that the nightclub’s closed tonight. Still.” Jonno’s face softened as he looked at Eve. “You’ll enjoy the Open Mike Night tomorrow. And Lola’ll be back then too.”
I glanced at Eve and mouthed “Lola?”
“Dad’s latest girlfriend,” she said in a disapproving voice.
Jonno grinned. “You’re gonna love her, Babycakes. But tonight, while I’ve got you to myself, let’s catch up. Leave the others to explore.”
My heart sank. I stared at Eve, willing her to defy him, to say she wanted to explore too. But she was looking down at the tablecloth. Crap. She was already nodding her head.
“Sure Daddy,” she said in this babyish voice. “I’d love to.”
After the meal, Jonno and Eve disappeared upstairs. Chloe, Ryan and I sat in silence for a couple of minutes, then Chloe leaned over and kissed Ryan.
“Shall we go outside?”
Ryan grinned. “Fancy another ‘walk’ then, Pig Baby?”
Chloe grinned back. “You should be so lucky, Skankface.”
I saw Ryan glance sideways
at me.
Chloe rolled her eyes. “Okay.”
Ryan slapped me on the back. “Come on, Babycakes,” he boomed in a not bad impression of Jonno’s voice. “Marco told me where the staff hang out.”
I followed them out through the main lobby and onto the terrace outside. The two wings of the hotel stretched out on either side, with a large lit-up swimming pool in-between.
Fairy lights hung from the trees that led down to the pool. Most of the sunbeds were stacked in a corner, but one was out. A couple lay on top of it, quite still in each other’s arms. They weren’t talking, just looking up at the sky.
I sighed. Eve was a total sucker for romantic places like this. Still, we had plenty of time, I consoled myself. There would be other nights.
I followed Ryan and Chloe round the pool and down through a little wooded area to the beach. The tide was out, the dark sea hissing in the distance.
We sauntered along the sand a few hundred yards until we came to another wooded area on the left. Through the trees I caught a glimpse of a row of wooden cabins. The sound of dance music drifted towards us across the sand.
“Staff quarters,” Ryan said. “The bigger building on the end’s where they come after work. Marco said it’s called . . . what was it, Chlo?”
“El Garito.” Chloe said. “It literally means a place for gambling. But here it just means Party House.”
Ryan stepped over and pushed open the door. Inside the music was deafening, the bass pumping through the floorboards like a frantic heartbeat. The room was dark – just a few lights round the sides – and packed with people. Some of them were standing around chatting – cigarettes and beer bottles in their hands. Others were snogging in corners. Most were writhing in waves to the music, arms curving down and round – hard, urgent, insistent.
We stood by the entrance and looked around. The air was heavy with heat. It smelled of sweat and smoke and beer.