‘I like these streetlamps,’ Pepper said of the two posts flanking a grand, central fountain.
‘I guessed you might,’ Josephine said appreciatively. ‘Gaudí again. Jorge sketched them, if I remember rightly. The two of you would so have got along.’
‘We still could,’ Pepper tempered lightly.
Josephine’s face had been thrown into shadow by one of the square’s many palm trees, and her expression gave nothing away.
‘Maybe.’ She looked away towards the edge of the square. ‘Now, shall we walk beneath the porticoes? The stonework is simply divine.’
It was many hours later that Pepper was finally able to persuade her to sit and rest for a while, and even when they had located a free table tucked away along a narrow lane, Josephine refused to get a pot of tea, opting instead for a jug of sangria and insisting that Pepper share.
‘I am pulling the Parkinson’s card on this one,’ she said, waving away Pepper’s refusal. ‘You have to do as I say, because I am old and dying.’
‘Oi! Less of that, please.’
‘We have earned it,’ she proclaimed. ‘And how often are you in a beautiful Spanish city, with nowhere to be and nothing to do except feel the sunshine on your bare toes and enjoy a little late-afternoon tipple?’
‘Fair point.’ Pepper accepted a glass. Then, after two more, she felt brave enough to try calling Finn, screwing up her face when it went straight to voicemail. His recorded message was in English rather than German, and Pepper wondered if that was for her benefit, or something to do with his work. Perhaps now, she thought numbly, she might never get an opportunity to ask.
‘Do you want to talk about it, darling?’ Josephine raised a braceleted arm and shooed away a hovering mosquito.
Pepper shook her head.
‘Maybe later,’ she said. ‘I want to hear more about you and Jorge.’
The sun continued to drift lazily across the sky as they sat, sharing stories and a second jug of sangria as the city edged its way from daytime to dusk. Pepper was torn between a desire to bask in the moment and a need to give in to the rising tide of unease that was beginning to course through her at the thought of something being wrong with Finn. Was that simply the hand that life had dealt her? Was she destined to lose everyone she held dear – first Bethan, then Finn, and soon Josephine? It felt horribly as if the happiness that had been dangled tantalisingly close to her was now about to be ripped away.
When Josephine giddily suggested a third jug, Pepper scraped back her chair.
‘First, we must find some food,’ she said, even though her stomach felt as shrunken and gnarled as a walnut. ‘Then we can talk about more alcohol.’
Eight on a Sunday evening was apparently a far more popular time to eat than on Saturdays, and it took a further hour of wandering before the two of them found a place to eat. On first glance, the little restaurant Cal Pep did not look like much, with its long counter, low ceiling and laminated menus, but everyone inside was Spanish, which according to Josephine was a very positive sign.
The two of them sat up on tall stools and sipped cava served in small tumblers. Their server – a thickset man in a sauce-splattered white apron – shook his head when they began asking questions about the food, telling them briskly that he would bring them a selection of his own choosing.
‘I like him,’ Josephine said approvingly. ‘A man that takes charge of a situation – not many of those left.’
Pepper thought of Finn, and how content she had been to let him take the lead when she was in Hamburg. He was a ‘take charge’ type of man. Well, perhaps except where errant bats were concerned. Remembering the incident now, she relayed the story to Josephine, who laughed so much that cava came out of her nose.
‘This Samuel chap sounds fabulous!’ she enthused. ‘Why haven’t you introduced us yet?’
‘I will when we get back to Suffolk,’ Pepper promised. ‘I’ll do a meal for you both or something.’
‘Speaking of which . . .’
Their tapas arrived, the plates piling up until every free space on the countertop was filled. There were still-sizzling Padron peppers zebra-striped from the grill, melt-in-the-mouth frittata oozing butter, a rich and creamy Russian salad, thinly sliced chips crunchy with salt, warm bread painted with fresh tomatoes and dripping with olive oil, delicately flavoured seabass fillets and a thick, meaty sausage served over hot, spicy beans.
‘Get gobbling,’ ordered Josephine, when Pepper made no move to begin.
‘It’s not every day you get to eat food like this, you know.’
She was right. Pepper scooped up a forkful of frittata, her eyes widening as her taste buds came instantly to life. She hadn’t been able to face eating much at breakfast that morning, and now found she was starving. As the delicious dishes rapidly disappeared, Pepper began to feel more human again, less wrung out than she had for the past few hours.
‘Thank you,’ she said to Josephine, as their satisfied server removed the final empty plate and topped up their glasses with more cava. ‘I needed that.’
‘A full stomach equals a full mind.’ Josephine tapped the side of her head. ‘You’ve put some fuel in the tank, and now you can think more coherently.’
Pepper picked up her paper napkin and began shredding it methodically into pieces.
‘I’m worried about Finn,’ she said. And then, because she had run out of excuses of why not to, she told Josephine what had been going on.
‘I understand why you’re so concerned,’ was the first thing she said, then she pondered for a moment. ‘The way I see it,’ she said, ‘Finn is a straight-talking sort. I can’t see him simply ignoring you, apropos of nothing.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ Pepper said dully. ‘Just a day or so ago, he was all set to come and live with me, but now that feels like it won’t happen. I know, I know!’ Pepper held up both her hands as she saw the look on Josephine’s face. ‘I’m catastrophising – but I can’t help it.’
She groaned loudly, her head rocking back until she was staring at the fluorescent strip lighting on the ceiling.
‘Everything was so perfect, and now this. It feels so bloody unfair!’
‘Welcome to life, darling.’ Josephine sighed. ‘A series of complicated conundrums, one after the other. I am almost twice your age, and they still appear to be coming thick and fast.’
‘I hate that you have to leave Aldeburgh,’ Pepper said then. It was the first time she had admitted it out loud, and for a horrible second, she thought Josephine might cry.
‘Oh, darling,’ she said eventually, drawing in a long, shuddering breath. ‘I hate that I have to leave you, too.’
‘I’ll be OK.’ Pepper sniffed. ‘I’ll muddle through – we both will.’
‘Just don’t forget that you have choices.’ Josephine was looking at her earnestly now. ‘If things with Finn are not destined to be, then you can still take charge of your future. You don’t need a man to dictate the pace, or the progress.’
‘What if he’s changed his mind?’ More bits of desiccated napkin fluttered to the floor. ‘What if he doesn’t want to move to Aldeburgh after all?’