Carla dropped her hands away from her face. “What kind of stories?”
Babs laughed to herself. “I remember this old couple used to turn up most days, shuffling into the pharmacy and leaving with huge paper bags full of stuff. It was probably pills and medicine for their ailments, but Suzette insisted they were hosting undercover sex parties and had to stock up with accoutrements, so they donned gray wigs to buy stuff in secret.”
Carla let out a loud laugh. It sounded exactly like a story her mum might tell.
“I remember she liked this red-haired guy who arrived once a week,” Babs reflected. “His hair shone copper in the sunshine, and Suzy’s cheeks got this kind of rosy flush whenever she saw him. My story was that he was really blond but dyed his hair orange to attract the ladies, like bees to a brightly colored flower. Your mum was a bit secretive when she had a crush on guys, never sharing her true feelings about them and—”
The ping of Carla’s phone interrupted Babs’s flow and Carla shuffled in her seat, wondering if Tom had messaged her. How was she going to tell him she was now back in Spain?
“Don’t mind me,” Babs said, nodding toward it. “I’ll get more wine.”
Carla nodded apologetically. She saw instead that Fidele had sent her a message saying he’d love to meet up and she showed the screen to Babs. “Another one of my exes responded,” she said.
“Ooh, are you going to see him? Where does this one live?”
“Sardinia. I’d love to see him again one day, but I’m not sure I have the strength or inclination to do so right now.” Carla sighed and stuffed the phone back into her pocket. “I’ll probably stay with you for a day or two, make sure you’re okay and then return home to England.” An image dropped into her mind of her wedding dress, hanging in her wardrobe. She could tell she’d gained a few pounds during her travels and hoped the cream silk wouldn’t strain across her stomach.
She and Babs ate olives, bread and cheese for supper, though Carla skipped the wine because it tasted a bit like vinegar to her. As night fell, she saw the sky was so clear the stars looked like diamonds tossed onto indigo velvet. She picked up a woolen blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders, relieved she was able to put some distance between herself and the chaos of her travels thus far.
Babs’s phone rang and she picked up the call, walking into the hallway to hold the conversation. Carla heard her footsteps pacing up and down.
“That was Diego,” Babs announced when she returned. “He’s booked some time off work and is coming here tomorrow. I’ll get to see him a day early. He’s spoken to some local builders for me, and the damage to my bar isn’t as bad as I initially thought, nothing too structural.”
“It’s nice to see you smiling again.”
Babs blushed. “Diego has that effect on me. I just wish I could find a way to make things work. I told him you’d arrived to keep me company.”
“If you want to spend some time together, I can make myself scarce,” Carla offered.
“No need for that, petal. I told him you’ve had a bit of bad news and he offered to take us both out to cheer us up. I’m so glad you’re finally going to meet each other. You can tell me what you think of him and what I need to do to sort things out between us.”
“I’m not sure I can do that...” Carla started.
“Well, you can do a better job than I can,” Babs said with her hands on her hips. “You’re the matchmaker around here, after all.”
It sounded like a challenge, but also something to take Carla’s mind off her own issues for a while. “No pressure, then?” she said, with a laugh to Babs.
Nineteen
Olive Trees
The morning daylight in Carla’s room was different from any she’d experienced before. It was clear, golden and bright, and she lay in bed sweeping her hand back and forth through the rays shining through her window, feeling the warmth on her skin.
She could hear the shower gushing and she raised an eyebrow to herself, surprised Babs was up so early when she usually languished in bed until noon. Carla washed in the sink in her room and got dressed.
“I got up early to put my face on,” Babs said when the two women bumped into each other on the landing. “I want to look half-decent for Diego.”
“I’ll make breakfast for us. Does bread and cheese sound okay to you?”
“I don’t have anything else. There may be an olive or two left if we’re lucky.” Babs laughed. “I think the nearest shop is a couple of miles away.”
Carla bustled around in the kitchen, seeing what else she could find to eat. She was trying to work out how to use the oven, so she could at least attempt to make cheese on toast, when the door knocker thudded several times. Wiping her hands on a towel, she padded along the hallway in her bare feet.
The man standing before her, when she’d opened the door, had distinguished white temples in his dark curled hair, and his tanned, crinkled skin reminded her of a Medjool date. She recognized him from Babs’s photographs, though he was now a lot older. “Diego?” she said.
He nodded and tilted his head. “You are Carla, yes?” He offered his hand for a shake. “It is very lovely to meet you.”
“Yes, hello. You, too.” She waved her arm toward the hallway. “It feels odd to invite you into your own home.”
“It is my mother’s place, not somewhere I have ever lived.”
“I think it’s wonderful, so charming. I love all the little windows and how none of the walls are straight,” Carla said over her shoulder as she headed toward the kitchen. “Babs is still getting ready upstairs.”
“It looks like we might have a long wait.” Diego let out a playful sigh. “I do not believe this house is to Barbara’s taste.”
Carla hesitated, wondering who he meant. “Oh, Babs? I think she’s very grateful to have somewhere to stay. I’ve brought her some clothes and makeup.”
They sat together at the kitchen table while Babs banged around upstairs.
“Do not worry about making breakfast. If you can wait a little while, I know some nice places to eat,” Diego said.
Carla liked his calm, peaceful air. “You knew my mum?” she said, a statement rather than a question.
“Yes. Suzette was Barbara’s friend.”
“I saw photos of you all together in Babs’s Place.”
“I was their tour guide for a while, showing them the real Spain, away from all the bars and tourists. I remember your mother had a keen interest in art. We all went to Figueres, where Salvador Dali used to live, to see his paintings of melting clocks and a lobster telephone.”
