If only I could pour out everything to James. He always had something encouraging to say when I was feeling like a failure. Always boosted my confidence, made me feel like I could do anything. At least he had, before he’d walked out on me. Hot tears of self-pity pricked my eyes, and I brushed them away furiously.
I took out my guidebook again and looked up Park Güell in the index. I had to at least follow up on what I did manage to find out. I stared down at the guide, forcing myself to focus on the words.
Park Güell is a garden complex with architectural elements designed by Antoni Gaudí. It is situated on the rocky hill of El Carmel, away from the main bustle of the city. Three kilometres of pathways wind around the hill, each integrated into the landscape and leading to serpentine terraces, seats, galleries and arcades. You could easily lose yourself in the many individual levels along the way.
Excitement gripped me. Maybe Barbara was right. Chris had said he was going to find somewhere secluded. He couldn’t stay in his apartment, because the police would look for him there. He couldn’t book into a hotel without a passport. But in Park Güell he’d be just one of a mass of tourists, and it sounded as if there were plenty of places to hide.
I took out my phone to call Nick, but as I scrolled through my contacts, I realised I didn’t have his number. I swore. He may be irritating, but he knew Barcelona, and I could sure use his help finding Park Güell. And even if I did get there on my own, even if Ford were there, I had no camera. Everyone knows it’s the photos that sell the story.
OK, Sarah, breathe. Nick said he was going to be on La Rambla. How hard could it be?
But when I returned to the bustling promenade, I realised just how hard it was going to be. One kilometre of crowds, restaurants and bars, and he was one person out of thousands. I might as well try to find him at a rock concert.
Starting on the left side, I looked in each establishment, trying to quell my rising panic. It was already six o’clock, and I knew we wouldn’t be able to get into Park Güell after eight thirty.
I reached the end of La Rambla and turned back the way I’d come. There weren’t as many bars down the centre, and it didn’t take me long to traverse the entire kilometre and start heading up the right side. What if he’d already moved on? What if I couldn’t find him until it was too late? My sandals had started to rub against my feet, fuelling my growing annoyance at Nick.
I was walking out of yet another bar when I heard his voice.
‘Hey, Burrowes!’ There he was, the bastard, sitting at one of the tables in the centre with two other guys. How had I missed him before?
I stormed over. ‘Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you for half an hour!’
‘I’ve been right here, beauty girl.’ He leant back in his chair and drained his beer, then placed the glass on the table beside three other empties. ‘Why didn’t you call me if it was so urgent?’
‘Because I don’t have your number!’ I shot back. ‘Didn’t think to check that before you marched off, did you?’ He didn’t look at all guilty, which only infuriated me more. ‘Come on, we’re going.’
‘And where are we off to now?’ he asked. ‘Not more lampposts, I hope?’
‘Park Güell.’
Nick laughed. ‘One of Barcelona’s major tourist spots?’
‘That’s right. Let’s go.’
He yawned and slowly stood up. ‘It’s been a pleasure, boys,’ he said to the two guys, who were observing our antics with lazy amusement. ‘With the way this job is going, I’m sure I’ll be here for a few more days.’
‘If you actually did your job we might be out of here tomorrow.’ I turned and walked away.
‘You didn’t have to be so rude,’ Nick said as he caught up. ‘You didn’t even give me the chance to introduce you to them.’
I glowered at him. ‘I’m terribly sorry to disrupt your busy social life. You might remember that we’re here for work, not for you to get drunk. Now, we have to get on the metro from Plaça de Catalunya.’
‘This way.’ His voice was sullen.
We were silent for most of the train ride, speaking only to exchange numbers and discuss what I’d found out. Far from being impressed at my resourcefulness in finding Barbara, Nick scoffed and made it clear that he didn’t believe a word of what she’d told me. By the time we emerged from the underground metro station, I was fantasising about strangling him with the strap of his stupid camera. But as I followed him through the streets, I reminded myself that I needed him, at least for now. I’d let him take the photos first, then I’d kill him.
We reached the base of the hill leading up to the park, and what little energy I had left sank further towards my poor blistered feet. I’d been expecting it to be steep, but the sight of the long staircase embedded in the veritable mountain that stretched before us was overwhelming.
The steepest parts of the hill had escalators to assist those going up, and the pavement on the other side was roughly textured to prevent the downhill-bound from slipping. At the top of each individual staircase, tourists stood in small groups, sipping water and recovering from the climb. The sandals had been a stupid bloody idea, and after my unlikely attack of vanity, most people, tourists and locals alike, were wearing sneakers anyway.
‘Not in such a hurry now, eh?’ Nick said. I flashed him a defiant look and started up the hill. After a moment I heard him
