Grant felt the early effects of the Spanish sun on his pale English skin as he stepped under the shower. A tingling sensation swept his body as the powerful jet of water crashed over him. The children had already changed and gone down to the hotel leaving Jill and Grant alone. He emerged naked from the bathroom, dripping puddles onto the marble floor. He was a powerfully built man, over six feet tall and weighed fourteen stones. Jill was in her dressing gown, a light-weight chocolate coloured wrap-around she had bought especially for the holiday. Underneath Grant could see the lace of her white brassiere. He walked across to her and slid his hands around her waist, then up to cup her breasts. She straightened up and stiffened recoiling from his advance. He persisted and nuzzled her neck, his hands kneading her breasts, needing her breasts.
“Not now, Grant, the children might come back,” she said struggling free from his grasp. “Besides, you’re soaking wet.”
He let go and went to the bedroom to get dressed.
“Ah well,” he thought to himself. “Maybe it’s going to be sun, sea sand and no sex.”
When he emerged from the bedroom he heard the shower running. Jill was in the bathroom. Normally he would have been tempted to join her, but in view of her earlier reticence, he didn’t bother.
“I’ll see you down there,” he called out. “Don’t forget to bring the key.”
He descended two flights of stairs and walked past the swimming pool which was now empty. A row of sun loungers stood sentinel over the liquid blue waters. In the sandpit next to the diving pool a handful of children still played, oblivious to the drop in temperature.
The thirty or so white metal tables outside the hotel bar were mostly empty. Inside, children engaged in musical games organised by the children’s club entertainer Yolande, a plump Spanish girl employed by the hotel for the season.
Grant walked through the lobby and had to swerve to avoid a stampede of children playing chase – Ben and Sally among them. He walked through the carved oak double doors into the bar. He ordered a large beer and took it through the sliding glass doors onto the patio.
The air was cool against his skin. He wore a plum coloured short sleeved silk shirt over a pair of C&A white casual cotton trousers. On his feet he wore a pair of red Pringle golfing socks and Reebok trainers.
He looked around at his fellow holidaymakers. He noticed a pretty dark haired woman wearing a tight low cut red chiffon dress sitting at a table near the end of the bar. She looked Spanish, not just because of her olive skin, but there was something about her eyes. She caught his gaze and he immediately turned away. When he looked back she had been joined by a swarthy looking companion.
He sipped his beer and was looking across to the apartments trying to make out which one was theirs when he saw Jill. She was wearing a plain blue cotton dress with a white jacket over the top matched by white sandals. She spotted him on the patio and came across to join him. She smiled, none of the frostiness from before.
“What would you like to drink?” Grant asked his wife.
“White wine will be fine,” she replied, “or something with lemonade. Have you seen the children?”
“All except Emma,” he replied, leaving his chair. “But she’s here somewhere.”
Grant got a white wine and another beer for himself and went back outside. The evening had taken on a degree of stillness. Crickets sang in the hedgerows surrounding the diving pool. They sipped their drinks and Jill shuddered slightly.
“Do you want to go inside?” asked Grant. “It’s a bit chilly.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” replied his wife. “Bingo is about to start.”
It was Grant’s turn to shudder.
Bingo came and went. Jill didn’t win and Grant didn’t play. Emma re-appeared. She had made friends with a group of youngsters led by a boy who looked about eighteen.
“Is it all right if I go up to the twins’ room?” she asked breathlessly having run across the dancefloor.
“Who are the twins and where is their room?” asked Grant.
“They are here with their nan and grandad staying in the hotel, but they have got to be in bed by eleven,” said Emma.
“If it’s okay with mum, it’s okay with me,” said Grant. “Just be careful.”
The disco was in full swing and the lambada was playing. A snake of youngsters crossed the dancefloor with Emma second in the line. With hands held high above their heads like olive pickers, they gyrated across the floor.
“I bet he fancies himself,” said Grant pointing out the big lad in the front. He was the leader and wherever he went, they all followed – except one. She was a tall girl with long blonde hair. She wore blue trousers and a plain white t-shirt. Her movements were different to the rest. She seemed uncoordinated, awkward even.
It was the first time he had seen her. It was not to be the last.
CHAPTER 4
It was too hot in the disco and besides, Craig was getting on Sara’s nerves. Why the others looked up to him she didn’t know, maybe because he was older than the rest. She left the dance floor and went into the lobby to the video games machine. It was one of the early Space Invaders. They had one just like it in the fish and chip shop in the village. Sara reached into her pocket and pulled out a coin. She put it into the machine and pressed Player One. She was up to 27,000 before she lost her first life and that was only because Craig had jogged her arm as he had come past with the Conga chain. Her concentration went and she lost her second life with only the addition of 3000 points. Her last was wiped out by a bomb. 39,000. Way below her best.
She walked over to the hotel reception desk and looked through the postcards. She wanted to send one to Jeff, but they were all too boring – the market at Ciudadela, a donkey on a beach, a plate of lobster soup, oh yeah, he’d really think I was a dork if I sent him that, she thought.
She walked out of the front reception into the street. Next door to the hotel was a car hire agency where “Uncle” Alan had hired a car that afternoon. He had taken her mother out for dinner. Sara had pretended to feel unwell to avoid going. The truth was she felt she would be in the way. They had been spending a lot of time together since her father’s death.
She walked down the side of the hotel smelling the sweet hibiscus and oleander bushes. She walked over to the diving pool and sat on the springboard gazing down into the dark depths of the deep end. It was hypnotic staring at water. She suddenly shivered and her arms and neck became covered in goose pimples. It was getting cold. She decided not to wait up for her mother, but have an early night instead.
It was gone one o’clock when she heard the key in the door. They were back. She heard giggling. It was her mother and she sounded tiddly. Sara propped herself up on one elbow craning her neck to listen.
“Shush,” she heard her mother whisper. “Stop it, you’ll wake Sara. Let me check that she is asleep.”
She heard Alan grumble something then heard the extractor fan in the bathroom. She dived back under the covers and shut her eyes as her mother opened the bedroom door. She couldn’t see her, but she felt her come across to the single bed where Sara slept. She wished they were not sharing a room. She wanted to be on her own, needed her privacy.
Her mother moved to the other bed and sat down heavily. She took off her blouse and tossed it on the floor. Next she stood up and fumbled with the zip of her skirt. It must have caught the lining and got stuck. She obviously tugged it too hard and Sara heard a rip, followed by a curse. The skirt fell to the floor and her mother stepped out of it. She stood with her back to Sara in just her black bra and panties. Then she went across to the chair in the corner and reached for her dressing gown. She put it on and did up the sash as she went out of the bedroom and back into the lounge. The voices were muffled. Sara pulled back the covers and hopped out of bed, crossing to the door. She put her ear to it, but all she could hear was her own heartbeat. She twisted the doorknob and opened the door the merest fraction. The lounge was in darkness but a chink of light through the balcony curtains gave enough light for Sara to see the room was deserted. The door to Alan’s bedroom was slightly ajar, although there was no light on. Her heart was beating even faster now and she thought about going back to the bedroom, but she couldn’t. She had to know if anything was going on. She owed it to her father to find out.
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