Page 1 of Under a Spanish Sky

‘Ouch.’

Amy squealed as her knee made painful contact with the bedside table.

Feeling for the edge of the bed with her hand, she sat down to rub the bruised area, muttering to herself under her breath.

Bruises caused by bumping into things are a fact of life when you’re blind, but that still doesn’t stop them hurting.

Luke had given her his usual tour of her room before leaving her on her own.

She now knew the location of the bathroom, how to operate the shower, and the fact that the towels were hidden away at shoulder level in the corner of the room, above the radiator.

He had warned her of the slight step at the door and the television placed dangerously at head-height on a bracket attached to the end wall.

He hadn’t thought to warn her about the sharp corners of the bedside table, but she didn’t hold it against him.

After a few moments the pain diminished and she stood up again, felt cautiously for the offending bedside table and, avoiding it, headed for the window rather more carefully this time.

The heating was full on and the room was boiling hot.

Three paces and she reached the curtains.

The window was old traditional French, with an oval metal handle set in the middle.

She located it and gave it a hefty twist. With a screech of protest, the sashes swung back towards her and a breath of cold mountain air swept in.

Along with it came the sound of an owl, out there somewhere in the hotel grounds.

She stood there for a few moments, breathing in the night air and reflecting on the events of the past few weeks.

There was no doubt in her mind, her decision to follow the pilgrimage route to Compostela had been the best she had made for years.

She could genuinely say that, for the first time since the accident, there had been a smile on her face every single day of this amazing trip.

She returned to the bed and sat down again.

Reaching into her bag, she located her laptop and switched it on.

The disembodied voice she had come to know and love greeted her and asked her what she wanted to do.

She directed it to her favourite website dealing with the Pilgrims’ Way and had just started to hear about tomorrow’s stage of the journey when her phone rang.

‘Hi, Amy, it’s me.’

‘Hi, Jude.’ They rang each other most evenings for a rundown of the day’s events. ‘Good to hear your voice. All well?’

‘They’re saying it’s the coldest April in London for a hundred years. Otherwise I’m fine. How’re things with you?’

Amy lay back against the pillow. ‘We’ve reached the mountains and we’ve checked into a hotel just on the French side of the Pyrenees.

’ She went on to tell Judie about their day driving through rural France, stopping here and there to visit places that took their fancy.

And for two medievalists, this part of the world held any number of historical sites.

It had been a lot of fun and some of her enthusiasm must have reached across the Channel.

‘To be honest, I’m having a whale of a time. ’

‘That’s great. You certainly sound pretty bubbly tonight. Is it the mountain air, or your hunky guide?’

‘I couldn’t possibly say, Jude.’ She had introduced Luke to Judie a month ago, when they were making the first arrangements for the trip, and had made sure she got a full and frank appraisal of him.

No unsightly blemishes, the correct number of ears, eyes and fingers, and a face that wouldn’t scare little children.

She might not be able to see him, but other people would.

‘After all,’ she had told Judie, ‘a girl’s got her reputation to think of.

’ Now she found herself smiling as she replied.

‘We’re getting along just fine. He knows all about the history of the pilgrimage and he’s very good at descriptions of the places we’re going through. Mind you, he’s rubbish at names of things like cheeses and desserts. He can just about recognise crème caramel, but that’s it.’

‘So, have you found out all about him?’

‘Well, I know he’s done his History PhD and he’s spent some time living in Africa. Mind you, Father Tim told me that way back. But, more than that, I don’t really know. He doesn’t like talking about himself at all.’

‘So no mention of a wife or a girlfriend? I mean, you need to know what you’re up against, don’t you?’

‘No, I don’t, Jude. His personal life’s of no interest to me at all.

’ She surreptitiously touched her nose to check that it hadn’t grown longer as a result of her last comment.

Although she had done an MA in Medieval History, she was honest enough to admit to herself, if not to Judie, that it wasn’t just the journey that was proving to be so great.

Reassured, she decided to change the subject.

‘Anyway, tomorrow promises to be good. We’re planning to go up to the high mountains to look for an old pilgrim hospice.

’ They had started in France and tomorrow they would climb over the Pyrenees, and then travel onwards on the Camino to Santiago de Compostela in north-west Spain.

‘Is the hospice in France or in Spain?’

‘Just over the frontier inside Spain. We’re not very far from the border here, but there’s a whole heap of snow forecast for tomorrow.’

‘Well, make sure he drives safely in the mountains.’ Judie hesitated.

‘You going to be all right with that?’ Judie had been Amy’s friend since primary school and she knew her very well, probably as well as anybody, since the death of her parents and her sister.

She had been one of the first people Amy had called after the accident five years earlier.

Their car had plunged off a snowy road in the Italian Alps and this would be Amy’s first time back to any mountains since then.

‘I’m fine. I’m in good hands.’ Amy felt and sounded relaxed.

Judie kept the tone light. ‘And just which parts of you are in his hands?’

‘Just behave yourself, Jude.’ But Judie didn’t give up.

‘That’s what I should be saying to you.’

‘Listen, you. This is a business arrangement. He’s employed to act as my guide. Nothing more than that. Get it?’

‘Whatever you say, sweetie. Anyway, you take care.’

‘Bye.’

Amy dropped the phone back into her bag.

Standing up, she reached for the sides of her jumper and pulled it off over her head.

Before taking any more off, she went over to the door, checked it was locked and located the light switch.

As usual Luke had left it on. She flicked the switch into the off position.

She didn’t want to provide a free show to anybody outside.

Reassured, she stripped and made her way into the bathroom.

As she stood in the bathtub, holding the shower hose as it coughed and spluttered cold water, she allowed herself a few moments’ reflection.

Yes, it was a business relationship and he was being very well paid for his time.

Mind you, she thought to herself, he seemed to be enjoying it too.

After a particularly loud cough, the water coming out of the shower head began to warm.

As she started to wash herself, she realised that she was humming a little tune.

She couldn’t remember doing that for a very long time.

By the time she emerged from the bathroom, the stuffy heat in the room had been replaced by the chill of the evening air.

Although it was April, it had been a cold winter and the close proximity of the snow-covered mountains meant that the outside temperature was already approaching zero.

She closed the window before discarding the towel and searching for underwear in her suitcase.

She pulled her jeans back on again but, this time, she felt for a different top.

Her hands landed on the unmistakable feel of mohair.

Her fingers confirmed that it was one of her old favourites with a roll neck.

She knew it to be pale blue. She had bought it just before that last family holiday.

She had chosen it because it perfectly matched the colour of her eyes.

Only a few weeks later her eyes had still been the same colour, but the jumper and everything else in her life had turned a uniform grey.

Snap out of it, you idiot. She gave herself a good talking-to.

She was alive, she was finally doing something she had wanted to do since she was ten, and she was going to have dinner in a French restaurant with Luke.

And Judie had said he was very good-looking.

With that thought in mind, she brushed her hair, slipped on her shoes and reclaimed her watch from the bedside table, ready for his knock on the door.

She pressed the side of her brand-new Snoopy watch and heard Charlie Brown’s voice telling her that it was seven o’clock. This, as usual, was followed by a woof. With a contented smile, she settled back on the bed, but almost immediately there was a soft knock at the door and she got up to open it.

‘Hi, Amy. Feeling hungry?’ He smelt of that same deodorant she had grown to rather like. She would recognise it anywhere.

Her smile broadened. ‘After visiting two castles, a pope’s grave and goodness knows how many churches today, I’m definitely ready for something to eat. And I’m sure I don’t need to ask you.’

They strolled across the gravel to the restaurant, her hand, as usual, resting lightly on his arm.

The accommodation block was a short walk from the main building.

A tree-lined avenue, studded with lamps, led up to the front of a fine white four-storey building and Luke did his best to describe it to her.