Page 39 of Under a Spanish Sky

As Luke and Amy drove further westwards, the countryside became much flatter and the vegetation ever more sparse. The snows of the Pyrenees retreated to a distant memory as unbroken spring sunshine sent the temperature rising.

‘Hardly a tree to be seen for miles. Summer here must be brutally hot and arid, even though the mountains aren’t far away.’

Luke found he enjoyed his role as tour guide more and more as the days went by.

Amy listened attentively, enjoying his company and the historical background he was able to provide.

The roads were wide and good. European Union subsidies had flowed abundantly for many years and the infrastructure had benefited immensely, but now, since the economic downturn, everywhere he looked, he saw unfinished buildings and empty shops.

Amy was a perfect companion and he knew he was feeling ever closer to her.

After visiting Logrono, where they admired the magnificent old bridge over the River Ebro, they decided to stop for the night at the Parador in the centre of Santo Domingo de la Calzada.

Like most of this famous state-owned chain of hotels, this one had been created inside a historic monument.

For people with an interest in the Pilgrims’ Way to Santiago, it couldn’t have been more appropriate.

The building, erected on the site of an ancient palace of the kings of Navarre, had been a hospital and shelter for pilgrims back in the Middle Ages.

A policeman directed them into the very heart of the beautiful medieval town and across the square in front of the cathedral.

A porter came out to take their bags, while another volunteered to take the car and park it for them.

Inside, the hotel was splendid. The hall on the ground floor had presumably been the main part of the pilgrims’ hostel.

It was a delight, with Gothic arches, sculpted stone and medieval statues.

As they checked in, Luke did his best to describe the place to Amy.

‘Subdued lighting, antique rugs, leather armchairs and oak tables, hanging baskets and some spectacular wooden statuary. I’ve never been in a hotel like this anywhere before in all my life. Certainly a bit different from some of the places I stayed in when I was in Africa.’

‘When we’ve changed, can we come down here for a drink?’ Amy was breathing in the atmosphere of the place. ‘I’ve been to a few good hotels in my time, but there’s something very special about this one.’ She tried to place it. ‘Maybe it’s the sense of peace and tranquillity.’

Luke looked across at the row of keys in the pigeonholes behind the reception desk and concluded that there were very few guests in the hotel.

No doubt that added to the sensation of calm.

He handed over the passports and signed the registration forms. A porter appeared to collect their bags and lead them to their rooms. These were on the first floor, at the head of a magnificent stairway.

The thick pile of the carpet at their feet absorbed the sound of their passing and added to the sensation of peace and quiet.

Just over an hour later he led her back down the ornately carved wooden staircase.

She was dressed more elegantly than he had ever seen her before.

She wore a white linen blouse and her black skirt was breathtakingly short, emphasising her long legs.

Her hair was tied up formally, but with a few long strands hanging around her face.

She looked immaculate and he wondered at how she had managed it without being able to see her reflection in a mirror.

He felt positively scruffy in a pullover and jeans – clean jeans but still jeans.

Downstairs it was immediately evident that his initial suspicion that there might be very few other guests was correct.

There were no more than half a dozen people in the spectacular vaulted bar.

He led her across to a table by the fireplace.

Settling her into a deep leather armchair, he described their surroundings in more detail.

‘All very tasteful. Lighting that highlights the arches and columns all through the room. It’s like being in the crypt of a church or in a Turkish harem. It wouldn’t surprise me if a mysterious veiled lady didn’t materialise to take our order.’ He looked across at her.

Feeling herself observed, Amy pulled a few loose strands of hair across her face and asked huskily, ‘Does Effendi like what he sees?’

‘Effendi certainly does.’ At that moment, a matronly Spanish lady appeared to ask what they would like to drink.

Without hesitating, Amy ordered a bottle of champagne, explaining to Luke that anything less wouldn’t have matched the surroundings.

The waitress disappeared and Luke continued to describe the polished floor, stone walls, bread ovens either side of the fire, the massive oak chairs, and the multitude of plants.

Amy sat back happily, a smile firmly on her face.

She was listening with only part of her brain.

The rest of her was concentrating on committing this place, the smell of leather, the distant notes of the ‘Concierto de Aranjuez’ coming from the speakers and the sound of his voice to her memory forever.

‘There’s something about this place. And present company, of course.’

The head waiter himself arrived with the champagne in a regal-looking bucket.

He opened the bottle without more than a slight hiss from the top as he drew the cork.

After filling two delicate tall flutes with wine, he withdrew.

He was immediately replaced by the waitress, bearing a tray loaded with food.

Luke waited until she had left and then launched into guide mode.

‘Huge green olives, the biggest crisps I’ve ever seen in my life, two or three different types of nuts in a bowl, two slabs of tortilla, deep-fried squid rings and a couple of huge prawns in batter.

If we eat this lot we probably won’t need to eat dinner at all.

Here.’ He passed over a frosted glass of champagne and let his glass lightly touch hers. ‘Here’s to you.’

‘And to you, Luke. Thank you for everything.’

Amy sipped the cold wine and tapped along to the classic guitar music with her fingers, clearly enjoying the place immensely. Neither of them spoke for quite a while. Finally, Luke made up his mind. He had something to say and this was the right place and the right time.

‘I need to talk to you.’ She made no reply so he waded on. She could hear his uncertainty and gave him an encouraging smile. ‘I’ve been trying to find the courage for days now.’

She smiled a bit more broadly. ‘Am I that scary?’

‘No, it’s me, not you. The fact is, my confidence has taken a bit of a bashing over the last few years, so I’m sorry if I seem a bit hopeless and pathetic.’

‘Two words I would never associate with you, Luke.’ She was still smiling and he took heart.

‘There’s a lot I’ve got to tell you. I can’t keep putting it off any longer. You’ve got to know the full story.’ He kept his voice studiously level, but there was no mistaking the emotion barely held in check in the background. She reached out, found and gripped his hand. He hardly noticed.

‘For what it is worth, you’re just about the first person who’s ever heard the full story.’ She squeezed his hand as he steeled himself for what he knew he had to tell her.

‘Apart from Father Tim.’

‘Yes, apart from Tim. He’s a very, very good friend, you know.’

‘And to me. He helped me so very much.’

‘Amy, it’s like this.’ He cleared his throat. ‘When I finished school, I didn’t go to university to study history. I actually studied medicine.’ He paused and she found herself digesting the news.

‘Medicine? So does that make you a double doctor?’ She was trying to keep the tone light.

‘It does indeed. MD and PhD.’ He hesitated, then managed to carry on. ‘I qualified and went straight into one of the big London hospitals. It was hard, tiring work, but I learned a lot, and people told me I was good at my job.’

Amy was sitting quietly, wondering why it had taken him so much effort to tell her this. Somehow, she had been expecting something much more dramatic. So he had been a doctor. It was a bit of a surprise, but so what? She waited for him to continue his account, wondering what was still to come.

‘Then, one day, I made a decision that would affect my whole life. Have you heard of Médecins Sans Frontières ?’

‘Yes, everybody’s heard of Doctors Without Borders. Did you join up?’

‘After a few years working in London, I knew I wanted a change and I felt I could be most useful in a Third World country. So I applied to MSF and they took me.’ There was a pause.

‘I was sent to Africa.’ His voice tailed away, and he lapsed into a silence that lasted several minutes. Finally, Amy tried a gentle prompt.

‘And something happened over there, in Africa?’

‘Something happened.’ There was another pause before he picked up his story once more. ‘Have you ever heard of Boko Haram ?’

‘That’s the Islamist terrorist group, isn’t it?’ Amy began to get a feeling she knew where this was leading.

‘Yes.’ Another pause. ‘Anyway, it happened five years ago now and I’d been in Nigeria for a couple of years.

Things were going really well for me. I was working in a hospital in a little town in the north of the country, not far from the border with Niger.

’ There was another long pause before he started again, the strain in his voice all too evident.

‘I’d met a girl. Her name was Nicole. I loved her very dearly and we were going to get married.

’ He paused again, clearing his throat before resuming.

‘Although the conditions over there were pretty tough and the workload relentless, I was just about as happy as I’ve ever been in my whole life. Until now, at least.’

Amy squeezed his hand again, dreading what was to come next.