I walked up the steps at the side, being extra careful in my heels. At the top I found myself outside the restaurant. I could see diners looking relaxed, enjoying their meals, with smiling waiting staff serving them. Before heading into the restaurant, I stopped and looked up at the three facades of the hotel, wrapped around the pool area, storey after storey. This place was something else. I couldn’t believe my luck. I finished my smoke and carefully disposed of it in the designated receptacle. No throwing ciggy ends down on the ground here.
The restaurant: Wow! It’s a self-service dining room, but unlike any I’d ever seen. There were no fewer than twenty service areas and at least a dozen chefs were cooking a variety of fresh dishes at the counters. I tried to go easy and pace myself, but I’m afraid I ate like a horse. I asked my waitress for a dry white wine and she brought me a bottle of it. The atmosphere, though formal, was also very easy and not stuffy at all. I felt relaxed, not even self-conscious about eating alone. I hate it when you go somewhere and it feels like you’re being judged the whole time – if not by the patrons, then by the staff. I worked my way through two platefuls of main course, mixing fillet steak with paella rice and a spicy Indian curry. Then I filled a dessert bowl with cheesecake, ice cream and a little fruit – just to be healthy. I was stuffed and getting overheated. I finished the remainder of the bottle out by the pool bar before I retired to my new comfy bed and to sleep the loveliest sleep. The next morning, I awoke, not knowing that I wouldn’t sleep soundly again for some time.
11
After a more sensibly sized breakfast (though I did manage a little cooked sausage and bacon, followed by a maple syrup pancake) I grabbed all that I needed from my room and snagged a sun lounger. I carefully hid my mobile phone and key card under my sandals, placing my book and dress on top too. I glanced about me before swiftly removing my robe and hurrying over to the steps into the pool. I’m not the most body confident and I wouldn’t have worn a two piece if I’d had the inclination to shop for a new suit.
The water felt cool as I entered, but by the time the water lapped up against my neck, it felt perfect. There weren’t many in the pool – a few couples and two or three teenagers. There was plenty of room to spread out and take your own little corner. I started into a few lengths – the water feeling refreshing as I breast-stroked back and forth. I stopped after a while and had a bob at the side, looking around.
Everyone looked a lot less stressed than the average face you see on a rainy morning in Belfast, that was for sure. The atmosphere was incredibly tranquil – some guests sipped espressos as their sunglassed eyes read romantic novels and pulp fiction, while others dozed noiselessly in their sun loungers. I stood up on my tip toes under the water, bobbing up and down, letting my legs rise up to the surface. I floated up onto my back, closing my eyes. I let my body drift and I swear I felt at peace with the world. My senses dulled, I allowed myself to bob on the water, eyes closed, brain switched off.
Heaven.
12
I had dried off for a while and read some more of my Nesbo. It was a good read. I’d an idea who the killer might turn out to be and was itching to see if I was right. I also listened to some of Jaco Pastorius’s first album on my headphones. It’s terrific stuff – pure soul-funk tracks set beside ones that are just Jaco sliding haunting melodies on his fretless bass, accompanied by a lone bongo drum.
Some would probably feel lonely on a holiday like this, without any company. I don’t see it that way – I don’t always need other people for company. I like to relax in the shower, even on the loo. I don’t like doing that with people I know! Same principle.
After a coffee by the side of the pool, I dived back in again. The glare before had meant I’d had my eyes closed the whole time. I kept my sunglasses on this time (just about!), so I could look around as I floated on my back. I did just that and hardly bothered doing any lengths. The pool was practically empty now and I just drifted about where I pleased, my peripheral vision taking in the bright blue of the sky and guests idling back and forth. My ears were submerged and there was a pleasant background noise lapping around as a low hum.
My eyes absently followed a set of sandals walking along by the edge of the pool. I squinted and tilted my head up to see a middle-aged man in white shorts and a blue polo neck pass by. I was instantly certain that it was the man from the airport. I watched him amble up the steps, twisting my neck round. I tipped myself backwards to stand up, so I could get a
