Page 3 of Under a Spanish Sky

He cast his mind back. ‘As I remember, most of the stories I told were to explain why I hadn’t done my homework.’

‘That’ll do. It shows you’ve got a good imagination. Anyway, I’ll tell you what I’d really like. How would you feel if we were to try to come up with a story?’

He smiled at the thought. ‘Us make up a story? I’m not sure I’d be much good at that. But I’m prepared to give it a go. About what?’

‘About people doing what we’re doing, but years ago.

’ As she said it, she realised that this was something she really did want to do.

Why not? she thought to herself. Maybe we could even turn it into a book.

Blindness makes it impossible to do a lot of things but nowadays, with her computer, she knew that writing wasn’t one of them.

This might just, she thought, with a rising sense of anticipation, be the answer to the question of what to do with her life now that she had finished studying.

She raised her face towards him. ‘People just like us, doing this.’

‘Driving around in a brand-new Range Rover and eating too much foie gras?’ He saw her smile and shake her head.

‘No, following the pilgrimage route, of course.’

‘And when you say years ago, just how many years ago?’

‘Oh, lots… centuries. Before cars and planes and phones and things.’ He could hear the animation in her voice and he could understand why.

Making up a story would be a way of heightening the experience for her.

Unable to see the magnificent scenery or the succession of outstanding historical monuments, she needed something extra.

He owed it to her to help, so he didn’t hesitate.

‘All right, then, I’ll give it a go. And as for the when, it’s got to be the Middle Ages, surely? We’re both medievalists after all. Sound good?’

The expression on her face showed that the idea pleased her. He could see that she was thinking hard. After a few moments she spoke out loud. ‘So when in the Middle Ages? Early? High? Late? That period lasted a good long time.’

He gave it some thought. ‘The pilgrimage route’s been operating for over a thousand years. It was your idea, you take your pick.’

She was smiling now and he felt a wave of affection for her.

The prickly persona she had exhibited the first time they met had disappeared without trace.

As they had got to know each other, she had definitely mellowed.

There was no question that this trip was doing her a power of good and, if he was honest, he felt it doing him good, too.

He couldn’t remember feeling this relaxed for a long time.

Just then, the waitress returned with the duck.

As usual, he launched into tour-guide mode.

‘The confit looks wonderful. The skin’s crispy, so you should be able to eat the lot.

Hang on a minute.’ He prodded the meat on his plate.

‘It just falls apart. You’ll hardly need your knife.

There’s a whole heap of chips and a little bundle of asparagus, tied up like a sheaf of corn.

It all looks very, very hot, so be warned.

’ By now, it was second nature to him to give these descriptions.

She made no attempt to start eating, her mind evidently still on this story idea. After a few more moments, she raised her head towards him, the pale blue eyes looking disconcertingly straight through him. ‘Right, off you go, then.’ There was a smile on her face ‘You start.’

With a martyred sigh he put his fork down. ‘All right, if I must, I must. Let’s see. Once upon a time there was a man…’

‘…who was big and strong.’ She finished the sentence for him and he sighed even more theatrically.

‘Why does he have to be big and strong? Maybe he was a little chap.’

She shook her head. ‘Definitely big and strong. Remember, he’s our hero and he’s got to fight off the bad guys.’

‘What bad guys?’ He was smiling and she could hear it in his voice.

‘I haven’t got that far. But he was definitely fighting off the bad guys.’

‘Whoever they might be…’ He paused for thought. ‘All right, then, once upon a time there was a man who was big and strong, but he had a problem. A serious one; not just hitting thirty-six and the onset of middle-age spread.’

‘You haven’t got middle-age spread yet.’

‘What have I got to do with it?’ Luke affected surprise. ‘This is our fictitious hero we’re talking about, not me.’ He paused as he had a thought. ‘Besides, how do you know my waist measurement?’

‘Um, I guessed. I know you’re tall and strong and fit, so it seemed logical.’ She realised she was at risk of digging herself into a hole here. His next question confirmed her dilemma.

‘Hang on a minute. How do you know that I’m big and strong and fit? I haven’t bent any iron bars or lifted any weights in your presence.’ Maybe, he thought idly to himself, Father Tim had been letting his tongue get the better of him again. Amy’s answer cleared the priest.

‘You go running most days, so you must be fit and, anyway, the receptionist in that lovely hotel at Chantilly last week told me about you.’ This sounded fairly safe.

She decided to leave Judie out of the equation, at least for now.

Even though she couldn’t see the expression on his face, she guessed.

‘Don’t look at me like a stranded whale.

We girls tend to chat a bit, you know, and she asked me if you were a rugby player.

I know enough about that particular sport to know that it’s not normally for the small and frail.

Then…’ now it was her turn to look just a little embarrassed ‘…I got her to describe you to me.’

‘Ah, I see.’ He took a big mouthful of wine.

A ready response didn’t occur to him, so he decided to steer the conversation back to their fictitious hero.

‘Setting aside our man’s physique for the moment, let’s have a think about what he’s doing.

Isn’t he maybe just a pilgrim, doing what hundreds of thousands of others did every year? ’

Amy shook her head. ‘Weren’t you listening? I said he was escaping from the bad guys.’

‘So we’re back to that again. Wait a minute, maybe the bad guys were really the good guys. Could it be he’s a villain, rather than a hero?’

She explored the concept. ‘That’s a thought. Maybe he’s killed somebody and is escaping from justice. And he has to get out of the country quick, otherwise he’ll end up in jail…’ her voice dropped to a melodramatic growl ‘…or worse.’

He saw the animation on her face and knew that the story was going to be a lot of fun for her, and probably for him too.

But, he thought to himself, in spite of having made the suggestion, he had better sort out the main character before things went any further.

‘No, let’s leave him as a good guy. I have no idea what he might have done, but I’m sure he’s not the type to murder somebody in cold blood.

No, let’s not make him a villain. Okay? If he’s running from the law, maybe the authorities have got him confused with somebody else and are really after the wrong man. ’

Amy nodded her agreement. ‘All right, he’s a goodie. So, what’s his problem? I wonder where he is at the moment.’

‘Walking, like the thousands of other pilgrims on the way to Compostela.’

‘I hope he’s got good boots.’