Bloody Mary (32 page)

Sophie giggled, dismissive, fidgeting. Embarrassed yet hopeful. “Don’t be silly!”

“Yes he does, he look over you with
amor
, with love.” The door to the ward opened and a consultant, with his junior, who was in the latter stages of his training, strolled through. Carmela jumped from the bed, hastening back to her duties. “
Rotura encima! Hora para el trabajo otra vez.
”

The doctor reached Sophie’s bed and scanned her medical notes, uttering nothing, his brow gradually wrinkling with confusion. He dropped them on the bed, and regarded her for a while, her discomfort growing in the silence. Eventually he spoke. “You hit lots,
sí
?”

She nodded, wondering what was in her file that was causing him consternation.

He strutted towards her, roughly grasping both eyelids to inspect her eyes, moving her head and feeling the bruising. “I see
panza
, your, er…?” He gestured his abdomen and she tugged her gown up, exposing the multi-coloured bruises to her belly and ribcage, and he examined them, before waving his hand, dismissive, and catching Carmela’s attention. “
Usted! Enfermera
.” Carmela trotted over, anxious.
“¿Por qué todavía está este paciente aqui? Ella no necesita estar aguí
!”

Carmela blushed as she always did when addressed by a consultant. “
Doctor Murillo dicho ella no estaba lista para salir todavía
.”

Again he waved his hands, annoyed. “
El Doctor sangriento Murillo, guardándola solamente adentro porque ella es bastante. Ella puede ir
!” He stomped away from Sophie’s bed, leaving her perturbed and confused. She stared at Carmela who was now grinning, her redness subsiding.

“
Mi Dios
! Is your parents come today, they can take you home, yes?”

Sophie had swung her legs over the side of the bed, preparing to pack her bag, to get dressed. “Yes, they’ll be here soon.”

Checking the consultant wasn’t facing in her direction, Carmela stepped up to Sophie and whispered. “I take your address? You give to me, I give to Doctor Murillo. And we write,” she imitated writing on paper with her hands, “me and you, when you go to
Inglaterra
.”

Sophie chuckled, loving Carmela for her cheeky streak. “I’d love to.”

Harry and I, having spent the past three nights in the Holiday Garden Hotel, had arranged as much as possible for Sophie’s return to the UK. We’d consulted with Carlos, still shocked at the recent events, about the impending divorce, the apartment and the seemingly fraudulent behaviour of Darren buying it solely in his own name, custody arrangements and how the Hague Convention would affect her removing Jaimee from Spain. Carlos was confidant that he would be able to resolve all the matters fairly, and that Sophie wouldn’t lose due to the circumstances involved, with Darren Delaney currently incarcerated by the police, with a likely result of deportation. The best news was that Jaimee’s passport had arrived.

Harry had spoken to his travel agent who’d instructed him to call her when Sophie was discharged, and she would be able to arrange the next convenient flight back to England.

When we arrived at the hospital they were ecstatic that Sophie had been discharged, eagerly informing her of all the arrangements. Ready to leave the ward, bags packed and Jaimee settled in her car seat, goodbyes to the nursing staff said, we headed outside to flag a taxi down.

As soon as we got back to the hotel, Harry phoned the travel agent and booked flights for the following day, and we decided to go out for a celebratory meal. Sophie, embarrassed of the bruising on her face, layered the make-up thickly, and managed to cover them beautifully. With all the recent stresses and unpleasant events now lifted, and the welcome prospect of returning to her childhood home, Sophie was feeling carefree and contented, the joy having returned after months of sadness.

Just as she was about to leave the hotel room, the phone began to trill, and Sophie stared at it, sure it must be a wrong number. She picked the receiver up. “Sophie?”

And now he was urgent. “
Mañana
, no. Sophie, I meet you today,
por favor
, please!”

She was stunned, Carmela had been right. She couldn’t understand why she’d made such an impression on the wonderful, handsome man, what with her face and body littered with bruises, but she wasn’t complaining: he was gorgeous. Never having glanced in another man’s direction since the day she met Darren, this suddenly felt exciting, new.

“Can you get to the hotel, I’m going for a meal with my Dad and Mary, you can tag along if you like.” Why did she say that, what a stupid thing to say!

“
No entiendo
, tag along.”

“Come,
para
a food. Eat. With us.”

“
Oh gracias, usted son hermoso. Le veo en quince minutos
. One five minutes, yes?”

She laughed, replacing the receiver. A huge sensation of disbelief swept over her, and a smile settled on her pink-stained lips, the butterflies in her tummy fluttering wildly. As she wheeled Jaimee’s pram from the room to meet her father and me, she had a spring in her step that hadn’t been apparent for years.

We came out of the escalator, waved to the receptionist, and strolled out of the hotel into the searing heat, summer now fully established in Mallorca. Harry and I began to stroll away from the hotel, but Sophie coyly called them back. “What? Why aren’t you walking with us?”

She was blushing but it didn’t show underneath the heavy make-up. “Yes.” His timing was perfect, Juan’s car pulled up on the roadside, he waved as he parked, a beaming grin on his face. Overenthusiastic, an excitable puppy, he bounded from the car and wrapped his arms around a stunned Sophie, hugging her tightly, not letting go. I watched the scene with glee, but Harry was still bewildered as to what was happening. “You not patient now, I can love you.”

I winked at Harry, tittering at the fuddled expression on his face, and took the handle of the pram in one hand, and his hand with the other. “Come on, Harry. Give them some space, they’ll follow when they’re ready.”

Bob, set in a downward spiral of depression without his wife, and distraught that his son was probably about to be deported, was staggered when he answered the ring on the gate. “Darren! How? You’re out!” He fumbled with the lock, opening the gate and threw his arms around him, retreating quickly to shake hands, embarrassed by the unmanly behaviour. He locked the gate and dragged his son up the steps into the villa, pushing him to the sofa and fixing drinks for them both.

“How did you get out? Our solicitor told me they intended to deport you.”

Darren sneered. “She wouldn’t press charges, said she was going back to England so there was no point. So they let me off with a caution and told me to stay away from her.”

“That’s easy. I’m going to get pissed with you, then reclaim my apartment, and live a life of luxury in the sun without any women nagging me, or little brats howling all the time. Sophie made a big mistake when she didn’t have a boy, I’d still be with her if she’d given me a son.”

Bob could understand, he’d been so thankful himself when his Maureen had produced two healthy bouncing boys all those years ago. “You don’t want to see the child at all?”

Darren downed his drink, three days without alcohol warranted some catching up. “No, she’s welcome to it. I’ll play the field until I find someone willing to give me a boy. Let her fuck off back to the UK, I don’t care if I never see her or her brat ever again.” Laughing, his father joining him, Darren and Bob finished their drinks, and Bob retrieved the bottle, placing it on the coffee table. Tonight, they were going to get paralytic.

The evening had been delightful, they would never have found the restaurant Juan had guided them to, with a walk of half a mile or so to get there, they would have stopped at a more touristy place well before reaching the quaint, cosy
bodega
. Inside was fairly basic, no frills, but tables full of Spaniards, eating, drinking, and being merry, the place rattling with joyous laughter. One side wall, opposite the cash desk, was stacked high with barrels of
vino
, different grapes, different strengths, and Juan had wasted no time filling a couple of empty containers, left for this purpose, with a variety of wines to buy cheaply and take home with him.

He had also placed the order for their
tapas
, selecting dishes that they would never have dared to try without his insistence that they were delicious, and he’d been right. The meal was sumptuous, the conversation, albeit stilted with the language barrier, was interesting and intelligent, and the selection of wines they’d sampled were perfectly palatable.

Initially Harry had been wary of the doctor his daughter was clearly besotted with, the pair of them rarely breaking eye contact, totally wrapped up in each other, but as the evening progressed, it was obvious that Juan was a genuine, kind, and generous man. I had come close to happy tears on a couple of occasions, the romance so sweet.

“So, well, you two are clearly smitten with each other, what’s going to happen after you fly back to England tomorrow?” Harry didn’t mean to break the magical spell, but he’d succeeded all the same.

Sophie’s eyes dropped, herself realising she was behaving like a silly, lovesick teenager, that it would be impossible for this infatuation to last: he had a good job at the hospital; she had no intention of leaving England again. It was a hopeless scenario, a pipe dream.

But Juan stunned them all, he stood, and shouted, his words stopping every drinker and diner in their tracks. “¿
Hace cualquiera adentro aquí hablan buen Inglés? Necesito un traductor
.”

In the corner an elderly man, gnarled and stooped, stood slowly, one hand resting on his walking stick, the other gesturing to them. “
Hago. Le enseñaba en la universidad
. For you English, I do, I used to teach it at the university.”

Full of passion for life and exuberance, Juan darted over to him, joining him, seated at the table, and over a glass of wine they had an intimate discussion, much to the confusion of Sophie and her parents. Eventually, Juan helped the man to stand, and they slowly traipsed back to the bewildered family. He seated the man in his own chair, and dragged another across for himself.

Juan patted his hand gently, his caring and consideration making Sophie’s heart flutter. “¿
Puede usted recordar lo que le dije
?”

“
Si, Senor
.” He turned, specifically to Sophie, but addressing all three. “He wants you to know that he has never felt for anybody the way he feels for you. He knows it’s quick, and early days, but he’s willing to move to England if it means being able to stay with you.”

“
Dígale yo no haga quiere nunca estar sin ella
.” His grin was beaming, the words gushing.

The elderly man chuckled. “He said he doesn’t ever want to be without you.”

Sophie, her blushing so extreme it now showed through her foundation, had never experienced so much romance in her life, and I, hand on my heart, had tears brimming again. Harry remained bemused.

Satiated, and tipsy, we all ambled languidly back to the hotel, Harry and I clutching hands, my other hand pushing the pram. Juan and Sophie strolled behind us, arm in arm, lovesick and still unbelieving that something so amazing was happening to them. Harry and I took the baby inside the hotel, retreating to our room, and leaving Juan and Sophie to have some privacy for their first kiss.

Having watched him drive away, she collected her baby from us, deflecting any attempts of conversation, knowing that if she didn’t get back to her own room quickly, she was going to embarrass herself by crying out of happiness. She had blissful dreams that night.

Chapter 21

Sophie had never been more pleased to step onto an aeroplane as she boarded the Airbus, grateful to leave Mallorca well and truly behind. The events of the previous evening had seemed too good to be true, yet she had drilled it into herself that Juan wouldn’t really come and join her in England, he was just one of those passionate people who gushed along through life, overenthusiastic about everything. Seated on the heaving plane, buckled, with Jaimee asleep on her lap, she was full of anticipation about returning to her roots.

As the plane stood at the end of the runway, and the engines began to roar, before hurtling away and rising into the blueness, Sophie had no idea that watching forlornly through the departure window, Juan stood, shoulders dropped, his hand resting on his chest pocket, the pocket containing the ring he’d bought for her that morning to remind her of his intentions over the next few months. He’d missed her by minutes, having been held up by the intense traffic on the way to say goodbye.