Page 32 of Under a Spanish Sky

He found them almost immediately. They were sitting in a renovated bar halfway along the street, just before the medieval square.

Amy was sipping a glass of Cava. Beside her, the hotel owner’s daughter, who was about twelve, was demolishing a huge multicoloured ice cream, topped with whipped cream and adorned with a pink parasol.

Luke squeezed past a group of young men by the door and made his way down to their table.

As he materialised alongside them, he laid his hand on Amy’s shoulder and she looked up with a happy smile.

‘Hi, there. Good walk?’

‘It’s a lovely little town. How’s the ice cream?’

‘Lourdes here says it’s great, but tells me the ice cream at her father’s restaurant is even better.’ In halting, but comprehensible, Spanish she repeated her remark. The girl giggled into her sundae.

‘What about you? Ready for that beer?’

He studied her reflectively. She looked lively, contented and relaxed.

In particular he was struck by the happiness in her face, especially when he compared it to the bleak loneliness of her expression when they had first met.

He realised that the sense of optimism he had felt in the church was here to stay, and he came close to reaching out and hugging her but, as ever, he resisted the temptation.

‘Definitely a big beer. I’m feeling very good this evening.’ There was no doubt at all. Compared to his mood over the past few years, he was indeed a happy man. ‘I really am. I haven’t been happier for years and years and years, and being here with you is what’s doing it.’

The waiter passed and asked briefly if they needed anything. Quick as a flash Amy caught his attention and ordered confidently.

‘Una cerveza mas, mas grande.’

It must have done the trick. Shortly afterwards, Luke found himself on the receiving end of a huge German-style litre mug of beer.

Goodness only knew how it had ended up here.

Amy reached out and felt the dimensions of the glass for herself before murmuring an appreciative grunt.

The little girl watched goggle-eyed as Luke lifted the mug to his lips and looked disappointed that he didn’t drain it in one mouthful.

The sundae now demolished, she dedicated herself methodically to the assorted nuts and olives that arrived with the beer.

Luke wondered absently how these would lie with the ice cream and whipped cream in her stomach.

Wisely, he decided that this was up to her to discover for herself.

‘Anyway, talking of happiness, you’re looking radiant and cheerful tonight. I was just thinking how different you look and sound compared to the first time I met you.’

‘If I look it, that’s because I am. I couldn’t ask to be anywhere better than this. The atmosphere’s good, the wine’s good and the company’s very good. And I’m not just talking about Lourdes here.’

He would have reached over and taken her hand, but again he resisted the urge. Instead, he looked at his watch. ‘What say we head back for dinner? If for no other reason than to stop this young lady from exploding. The consequences in this crowded room could be catastrophic.’

Amy giggled and asked whether he had finished his beer. He hadn’t, but he did so in record time, gaining an admiring look from the little girl as he did so.

The restaurant in the hotel was about half full by the time they got back.

Lourdes disappeared into the kitchen, only to emerge seconds later with a huge plate of meat and potatoes that she set about with the same gusto she had shown earlier.

Luke and Amy sat at a table in the corner of the utilitarian dining room and he described the other occupants of the room to her.

‘They look like mostly commercial travellers, with one or two locals thrown in. There’s a family celebration of some sort on one long table in the centre of the room. Six or seven adults are surrounded by about twenty children.’

‘My ears had already worked that out.’

The restaurant owner came over to their table, bearing a bottle of Cava. He opened it with a flourish and placed it on their table, giving them both a big smile.

‘My daughter’s thanks for the ice cream and my good wishes for your future together.’ He made the announcement grandly and swirled off into the kitchen once more.

‘Are you blushing too?’ she asked timidly.

‘I do believe I am,’ he answered. ‘I wouldn’t want you to think that I’d given him the wrong idea about us.’ She could even hear him blushing now.

‘Wrong idea?’ she asked innocently. Luckily at that moment food started to arrive and he sounded relieved to revert to his usual tour-guide mode.

‘Black olives looking lovely and fat, probably still with stones in them, so watch your teeth. The bread’s in a basket bang in front of you.’

He reached over and poured some of the wine into their glasses. As he did so, two huge plates of mixed salad arrived.

‘Green salad, red salad, two or three other types of crinkly stuff, some sort of dandelion leaf shaped, some normal, onion rings, a boiled egg and a load of tinned tuna.’ Amy couldn’t help smiling.

‘I must give you a guide to salads one of these days. “Crinkly stuff”, indeed?’

He laughed back at her, the spell broken. ‘Sorry, I’m afraid I’m not getting any better. I’m good at dates, though, and popes. I can recite them backwards from now to the early Middle Ages.’ He would have launched into a demonstration, but her finger reached out, found his face and sealed his lips.

‘I’ll remember that next time I order a plateful of popes.’

They ate in silence for a while before he picked up the conversation again. ‘I’ve been thinking seriously about a lecturing position.’

‘I would imagine you’d go down a bundle with the female students if you choose that career path.’ He choked on his tuna and she was able to go on unopposed. ‘With your background and qualifications, I am sure you could get yourself a lectureship without too much trouble.’

He drained the glass of water, glad the tuna hadn’t gone down the wrong way. ‘I already have an offer.’

This was news to her. ‘I didn’t know. That’s terrific. Where?’

‘Boston.’

She took the news expressionlessly. ‘That’s not the one in Lincolnshire you’re referring to, I imagine?’ He grunted. ‘Starting when?’

‘Start of the next semester, if that’s the path I choose to follow.’ He resumed his assault upon the salad.

She slowly digested what he had told her.

Of course life had to go on; his and hers.

Wonderful as this interlude was, she could hardly expect it to last forever.

It would end. It had to. And when it did, there was every chance they would each resume their individual, normal lives.

In spite of herself, she felt a chill run through her.

What was normal life? Would she really return to the empty house and resume her dull, dry and sensible existence, wanting for nothing that money could buy?

But all the time she knew she would be longing desperately for laughter and, yes, for love.

‘Aren’t you going to finish your salad?’ His voice cut in on her thoughts. She shook her head. ‘When we get home I promise I’ll take lessons in identifying different types of lettuce. Honestly.’ His hand reached across and gave her hand a quick squeeze. She looked up and smiled.

‘And desserts.’ He waited while a young waitress cleared their plates before continuing.

‘And cheeses. Anyway, I said I’d had an offer.

I haven’t accepted it yet. Besides, Land Rover reckon these diesel engines are good for hundreds of thousands of miles.

We could always go on from Santiago to Rome and from there to Jerusalem.

Maybe then we could try Mecca, although they wouldn’t let us in.

From there it’s only a short step to Amritsar then Lhasa.

Come to think of it, we could carry on round till we reach Graceland.

Let’s not forget the modern-day pilgrimages. ’

She laughed in spite of herself and realised, as if she needed to, that she would miss the fun of being with him.

‘You make me laugh.’ She banished the future and tried hard to concentrate on the present. She dearly wanted to save the moment in her memory forever. ‘Save to disk…’ she murmured, and then made the whirring sound of the computer doing its work.

‘Hard disk?’ he enquired gently, continuing her train of thought.

‘CD-ROM, of course. Read-Only Memory. Can’t delete it, can’t change it. Keep it in a little plastic case and trot it out whenever I want to. The ultimate computer game. Virtual reality.’ The words were light, the tone wasn’t.

‘Virtual?’

‘That’s not up to me.’