‘Oh, I prefer proper books,’ Amy said. ‘Books with a soul, printed on paper that’s grown under the sun, you know?’
‘Yeah, me too,’ Ant said, and I felt suddenly embarrassed on his behalf. He was making a bit of a fool of himself and, obtusely, I felt a tiny wave of love for him, for the little lost child within, still trying to impress at forty-eight. So many of Ant’s difficult aspects seemed to be caused by his insecurities, it seemed a shame, really.
To save him from digging himself an even deeper ditch, I yawned loudly and rolled on to my side, and they both turned their heads to look back at me.
‘She’s awake!’ Amy said.
‘Hey, sleepy head,’ Ant said. ‘You were snoring.’
‘Hey,’ I replied, stretching. ‘Mmm, was I?’
‘Like a trooper,’ Ant said.
‘And what are you two nattering about?’ I asked.
‘Oh, we were discussing the pros and cons of paper,’ Amy said seamlessly.
‘Paper?’ I asked, pretending I hadn’t heard their conversation.
‘Yeah, books,’ Ant said. ‘Proper books versus your Kindle thing.’
‘I like my books to have a soul,’ Amy explained. ‘I want my words to be printed on paper that’s been grown, that’s part of nature, you know?’
‘Right,’ I said. ‘Well, I prefer to let the trees carry on growing in the sunshine. I prefer nature to owning physical books, I suppose. That’s my problem.’ To make my point I glanced at the tree above me, the one providing shade, and then added, ‘But each to his own.’
I saw Amy wince as if she’d been slapped, and Ant raised an eyebrow in surprise that I’d momentarily outmanoeuvred Amy. Of course, he didn’t know I’d had time to think about what they were saying.
I glanced beyond them at the shimmering pool, where the kids were still playing in the shallows. ‘It’s going to be hard to drag them away,’ I said. ‘They’re loving it here.’
‘We can always come back tomorrow,’ Amy suggested. ‘It’s not like it’s far.’
‘God, it’s still so hot, though!’ I said, glancing at my watch – it was six – and then standing and heading towards the pool ladder. ‘Did you put more cream on them?’ I asked Ant.
‘I did,’ Amy said. ‘Don’t worry.’
‘Careful of the fish,’ Ant said, as I began to descend the ladder. ‘Make sure they don’t give you any diseases.’
‘Um, I think we’ve done that joke already, Ant,’ I said, casting the words over my shoulder as I launched myself into the velvety water.
On the way back, we stopped off once again in Orce. The temperature had dropped to a ‘mere’ thirty-seven degrees, and the few shops that existed were open. People were milling around carrying their shopping, or stopping to chat on the street corners.
We sat in the main square for another round of drinks and I noticed how many older people were present. Some were in groups, playing dominoes or cards, while others were with their families – three or even four generations at the same table.
How nice it must be to get old under the Spanish sun, I thought. How much easier on the soul it must be than sitting in a granny flat beneath a rainy British sky.
It wasn’t until the waitress came to take our order that I noticed that Ant had the hump with me. He ordered a beer – luckily, the waitress spoke some English – and then Amy asked me and the kids what we wanted so that she could translate.
‘I’m not sure,’ I replied. ‘What are you having?’
‘God, I hate it when you do that,’ Ant said.
‘I’m sorry? When I do what?’ I asked.
‘Why do you need to know what Amy’s having? Why can’t you just make a decision on your own?’ He was getting his own back because of the joke, I realised. Of course he was.
‘I’m having a glass of white wine, I think,’ Amy said, ignoring him.
‘That sounds nice,’ I said, glancing nervously at Ant. ‘I’ll have the same.’
‘Of course you will,’ Ant commented, sighing and then looking away across the square.
‘Ant,’ I pleaded. ‘Please!’
‘Please what?’ he asked, glancing back at me briefly before turning his attention to his phone.
‘That was gorgeous today,’ Amy said, once the waitress had taken everyone’s orders and moved to the next table.
‘It was,’ Ant said. ‘Thanks, Amy. Thanks for all of this.’
‘One of my better ideas,’ Amy said.
‘Definitely,’ Ant said, nodding enthusiastically, and it was as much as I could do not to roll my eyes.
‘What?’ Ant asked me in a challenging tone of voice, which was strange because I felt certain I hadn’t pulled a face or even sighed. Had I actually rolled my eyes without realising it, or had he picked up on my subconscious desire to do so?
‘I didn’t say a word!’ I protested. ‘Jesus, Ant, just relax, will you?’
He turned his attention to his phone again and I glanced around the square, hoping to spot the pig. I felt we needed a distraction here, but the pig was nowhere to be seen. ‘There’s a pizza place over there,’ I said instead, pointing. ‘Maybe we can get takeaway for dinner this evening.’
Ben and Lucy shrieked, ‘Yes!’ immediately, and after a few seconds, Sarah – who’d been lost to the world, fiddling with the buckle on her sandals – joined in too.
‘I’m not sure,’ Amy said. ‘I’m pretty sure they don’t have vegan options in Spain.’
‘Oh, Mum!’ Ben pleaded. ‘Go on.’
‘We can still have pizza, can’t we, Dad?’ Lucy asked.
‘Of course we can,’ Ant said. ‘We’re not vegans, are we?’
By accident, I’d thrown a spanner, albeit a tiny one, into the works of Ant and Amy’s mutual appreciation society.
‘Mum! ’ Ben said, raising his eyebrows almost to the top of his head. ‘Come on! They’re having pizza.’
‘OK, OK!’ Amy conceded. ‘Just this once. Hopefully, they’re not quite so mean to their cows in Spain, anyway.’
It was
