He eventually pulled up outside a small bar called Babs’s Place. It had wooden picnic tables outside and a multitude of blackboards on the walls. Live Karaoke Most Nights! Your Home Away from Home! Eat, Sleep, Drink and Sing Your Heart Out.

Carla pursed her lips. This wasn’t the quaint little seaside apartment she’d hoped for. In fact, it looked rather dingy.

Fran got out and heaved her suitcase off the back seat. “Come on,” he urged. He opened the shiny black front door to the bar and Carla narrowed her eyes as she entered the dimly lit space. There was a smell of beer and a whiff of sweat. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw even more signs. Be Quiet When Leaving the Premises and No Smoking.

“Babs!” Fran hollered up the stairs. “Your guest is here.”

The woman who descended wore fluffy pink slippers, a cotton nightdress and curlers in her platinum hair, as if she’d just gotten out of bed. She switched on a light and Carla could see how the sun had turned her skin acorn brown. Her cleavage looked like it had been finely pleated.

“Well, just look at you,” Babs said, eyeing Carla from head to foot. Her voice had a raspy quality. “Spitting image of your mum, aren’t you?”

Carla took a moment to digest this information. She’d assumed Babs was a friend of her gran’s, but now that she looked closer, she was younger, most likely in her early sixties. “Did you know Suzette?” she asked.

“’Course I did, petal. Me and Suze were great pals, back in the day. Come on upstairs, let’s get you settled in.” She nodded at the suitcase, and then jerked her head at Fran, indicating he should carry it.

“What did your last servant die of?” He sighed as he grabbed the handle.

“You don’t want to know.” Babs cackled. When they reached the top of the stairs, she playfully squeezed his bicep.

“Do you require my services for anything else, milady?” Fran flourished a bow.

“That’ll do for now, kind sir.” Babs watched him as he disappeared downstairs. “Solid gold,” she said and let out a dreamy sigh.

Carla widened her eyes.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that. I’m allowed a bit of fun at my age. Not hurting anyone.” Babs laughed again. “Some people think he’s my son.”

Carla blushed.

Babs showed her to a tiny bedroom. “No en suite, I’m afraid. There’s a bathroom across the hallway, and the bed’s nice and comfy. Come and find me in the front room when you’ve freshened up.”

There were only a few hangers in the wardrobe and no drawers, so Carla left half of her things in her suitcase. She took in the single bed with the tartan sheets and the wonky bedside table. Everything looked clean, but she hadn’t stayed anywhere this simple since her gap year. Back then, she’d lodged in the cheapest places possible, sharing a bedroom with other travelers, or, sometimes, even the neighborhood cats. If she and Tom ever spent a weekend away, they chose country houses that sported manicured lawns and served smoked salmon for breakfast.

She cleaned her teeth and unzipped the front pocket of her suitcase to retrieve Myrtle’s present. Carla stared at it for a while with a growing sense of dread before unfastening the silk. Inside was a pack of tarot cards with The Magician brandishing a wand on the front. Carla blew out her cheeks and shoved them under her pillow.

Babs’s front room looked typically working-class British and parked in the eighties. There was a fringed lamp, patterned rug and lots of teak furniture, making it difficult for Carla to believe she was actually in a Spanish seaside town. Photos everywhere showed Babs grinning with different people while holding a microphone. She noted there weren’t any of Fran, or any children, either.

The biggest photo was on the mantelpiece, enlarged, so the image was fuzzy, featuring Babs, Suzette and a handsome guy wearing a white fedora on top of his dark curls. Babs looked much younger in the shot, all long blond hair, cobalt eyes and an orange bikini top the same color as her tan.

Carla picked up the photo and smiled at her mum. She didn’t hear Babs entering the room.

“I still miss Suzette.” The landlady appeared alongside her. “Suzy Soo, I used to call her. We used to have a good old laugh, always getting up to mischief. We traveled together, lived together, almost like sisters. I bet you really miss her, eh?”

Carla nodded. “All the time.” She peered more closely at the picture. “Who’s the man in the middle?”

“Handsome, isn’t he?” Babs beamed, taking the frame from her. “That’s my ex, Diego. Bless him. We split up a few years ago after ages together. He’s a doctor and lives not too far from here. A wonderful man. Me and Suzy met him on our travels. When she returned to the UK, I stayed in Spain, and Diego and I fell in love.”

Carla could hear the warmth in Babs’s voice when she talked about him. “You sound like you’re still in love with...” she said, then frowned. The statement had arrived out of nowhere, from deep inside her.

“There’s no doubt about it.” Babs shrugged a shoulder. “But me and Diego are better off apart than we were together, or that’s what we’ve agreed. And we haven’t got any kids, in case you’re wondering. Would’ve been fantastic but I’ve had plenty of other blessings to keep me busy. I always envied your mum for having that great big family of hers.” A wistful expression fell across her face for a moment. “Last thing I knew, you were getting married. Lucinda told me about it in a Christmas card. Must be ten years ago, I reckon.”

“It was sixteen years ago, and we split up after four, just after I’d turned thirty.”

“Ha. That’s ironic. I thought you ran some kind of matchmaking agency.”

Carla felt herself tense up. “I do. My divorce inspired me to set it up.”

“I don’t believe in those agencies, myself,” Babs said, setting the photograph back down. “I wouldn’t have met Fran that way.”

Carla swallowed. “So, you two are...?”

Babs nodded. “No point sitting around moping after me and Diego split up. I do my thing and I don’t want to know what he gets up to, in case I don’t like it. While I’m looking for my Mr. Right, I may as well audition a few Mr. Wrongs. And I reckon animal magnetism is all down to pheromones, not filling in some questionnaire. Anyway, that’s enough about me. Your gran said you’re searching for some fella? Anything I can help you with?”

Carla looked down at her hands. “It’s complicated. I’m getting married in three weeks’ time, but...” She didn’t finish her sentence, noticing she was on the verge of oversharing to a stranger. “I want to catch up with a few people first.”

“I see. Other men?” Babs smirked with a knowing nod. “Kind of like a shopping list?”

“More of a window-shopping list, and I’m definitely not going to buy anything.”

“Sounds like fun. Count me in.” Babs glanced at her watch. “Ooh, is that the time? You’ll have to tell me everything later on. I’ve got to get glammed up for my show.”

“Show?” Carla cocked her head.

“Sure. People don’t come to my bar to see plain old Babs Smith. They come to see superstar Babs-Lee Johnson. I host a karaoke evening a few times a week. It’s how I met Fran. He belts out a mean Frank Sinatra. Are you going to join us this evening?”

In truth, Carla couldn’t think of anything worse. She already regretted traveling here, and a night of karaoke might tempt her to pack up her case again. “It sounds great, but I’m tired after traveling.”

“No problem. Feel free to make yourself a cheese sandwich. If you’re lucky, you might find an onion in the cupboard, too.”

Later that evening, Carla smiled when she found the kind-of-shiny orange cheese she loved in the fridge. She changed into a casual black sleeveless dress and sat down on her bed to eat it. A badly sung version of “Sweet Caroline” blasted out from downstairs so loudly her windowpane rattled. There was lots of raucous laughter and shouting and she imagined Babs and Fran singing cheek to cheek.

Carla lay on her front, sucking the end of her pen as she looked through her travel journal once more. She had just two weeks overseas to find the man who was allegedly supposed to hold the key to her happiness, which meant she’d only get to spend a few days in each place.

She scanned all the mementos she’d pasted in her journal, and a business card hung at an angle, as if asking to be seen. Although she didn’t believe in such omens, Carla reluctantly peeled it away from the page anyway, examining the faded writing.

“Okay, then, you first,” she said aloud.

Tomorrow she’d try to find Pedro the hairdresser. Aka Mr. Passionate.

Ten

Spider

Carla fell asleep to the sound of a woman downstairs murdering an Adele song. When she woke the next morning, it was nine thirty and her bedroom seemed suspiciously quiet.

She stared up at a stain on the ceiling. It felt lonely waking up in a single bed without Tom, and she began to wish she’d gone to America instead. The quicker she could trace, meet and discount the men from her past, the sooner she could return home to choose blankets for her wedding reception.

She hoped Tom’s hotel wasn’t very glamorous, either. A beige hotel bedroom with brown carpets and a hairdryer bolted to the bathroom wall might make him regret leaving her behind. She hadn’t yet told him all her reasons for coming to Spain and wasn’t sure how much to disclose.