‘I’ll see you two later,’ she said. ‘Don’t forget to look after your belongings. There are a lot of pickpockets and bag snatchers in Barcelona, you must be careful.’
‘Thanks, Estel.’ Nick squeezed her shoulder and jumped down from the table.
Anger bubbled in my belly. In an instant, I was back in the office on the Monday after I’d slept with Nick. I’d walked in, filled with that special anticipation that comes with the possibility of a new relationship—otherwise known as denial—to find a very different reception than I’d hoped for.
Nick was sitting on Jane’s desk, laughing. Jane was one of the senior journos, and I was pretty sure she despised me. At least she had since that day, considering what Nick told her. He must have described the finale to the Christmas show in embarrassing detail, because as I walked in, Jane glanced up at me and burst into laughter.
Nick looked momentarily embarrassed as he got up from Jane’s desk. But then he had squeezed her shoulder exactly as he just had Estel’s and walked off without so much as looking at me.
The same humiliation I’d felt after that incident swept through me again now, channelling into a sharp point of fury.
‘Hurry up,’ I snapped as he put his camera back in its case. ‘We’ve got work to do.’
‘OK, OK.’ He followed me out of the hostel.
‘I know you’re trying to pick up, but maybe don’t go around telling everyone we’re journos. It could compromise our search.’
Nick snorted. ‘I hardly think a twenty-year-old hostel worker is going to tip him off.’ He looked sideways at me. ‘What are you so dressed up for, anyway?’
‘I’m not.’ I felt suddenly foolish for the effort I’d gone to, especially considering I was still having trouble walking normally in my sandals.
‘So where are we going?’
‘The Plaça Reial,’ I replied, my voice short. I didn’t want to ask him to find it on his phone, so I opened up my guidebook and traced my finger along the main roads on the city map. ‘It’s near La Rambla.’
‘I know the way,’ Nick said. ‘I’ve got friends who live here and I’ve spent a lot of time on La Rambla.’
I followed him as he set off up the road. I couldn’t stop thinking about that Monday at work, that day of shame, and the more I thought about it the angrier I got. After I’d waited in vain for Nick to come and speak to me, I’d gone to the kitchen to get a coffee, and Jane had been in there. She’d smirked when I walked in.
‘Have a good weekend, Sarah? I hear you had a pretty good time after the Christmas party.’
I was too furious to respond and did a pretty good job of not punching her in her stupid face.
‘I can’t believe you gave it up for Nick.’ Her smile was more like a sneer. ‘Some of us have had a sweep going since you started here for how long it would take him to add you to his list. I didn’t think it would be quite so easy.’
I didn’t know how many people Nick himself told about our liaison, but I did know that Jane had delighted in relating the entire episode to everyone at work. Including Katrina.
It’d taken me a long time to recover from that. Nurturing a deep-seated hatred for Nick and Jane had helped, and meeting James had allowed me to push it all down. But I hadn’t forgotten. I hadn’t stopped hoping the day would come when I could visit the same humiliation on Nick that he’d put me through.
I followed Nick across the road and my rage melted away at the scene before me. We were in a mall of sorts, but this was like no mall anywhere in Melbourne. The bustling promenade stretched as far as I could see and was lined with plane trees, restaurants, stalls and street performers.
‘La Rambla,’ Nick announced. ‘This is the number one place in Barcelona to be robbed, so for god’s sake be careful.’
I gazed around me in awe as we walked. Never before had I seen so much colour and activity. The atmosphere was electric. Musicians strummed guitars, tourists posed for photos with living statues, artists sketched portraits for willing subjects. The air was filled with the delicious smell of paella that wafted from the restaurants on either side. A man, his arms laden with red roses, approached me with a big smile, and I couldn’t help smiling back.
‘A red rose for the lady?’ He held one out towards me and stepped closer.
‘No, she’s allergic, she’s allergic!’ Nick grabbed my upper arm in a firm grip and steered me away.
I threw his hand away from my arm and glared at him. ‘What was that all about? I wasn’t actually going to buy one.’
He threw me a look that bordered on contempt. ‘Are you really that naive? Guys like that don’t make their money selling roses to girls. They make it by distracting you with the flowers while they get close enough to fleece you of your wallet and phone.’
He continued up La Rambla. I followed, grumbling under my breath. Every minute I spent with him made me feel more like an idiot, and more like killing him.
‘Which square are we looking for?’ Nick asked.
‘Plaça Reial.’
‘Up here.’ He led us up a lane to the left.
Plaça Reial was a large square hemmed in on all sides by identical buildings with evenly spaced, ornate colonnades. Palm trees sprang from the ground in random fashion, surrounding a large fountain in the centre of the square. Everywhere I looked there were people. Backpackers sat under the trees eating sandwiches and laughing. Some tourists perched on the edge of the fountain studying their maps, while others snapped photos of one another with their phones. I longed to be one of them, to have no responsibility other than seeing the sights and soaking up the culture.
The Gaudí lampposts described in my
