‘Gil,’ she said. ‘Gil Marquez.’
‘Funny name,’ Judy said frankly. ‘It sounds...’
‘Spanish—he is! He’s the manager of this hotel. Oh, Judy, he’s unbelievable... you should see him on the beach; his skin is like gold silk...’
‘Does it feel like it too?’
Bianca took a deep breath, then whispered, ‘Yes, just like silk.’
Judy gasped audibly. ‘Bianca...you haven’t... You have, haven’t you? God, that was quick work; you’ve only been there a few days! I’d never have believed it— you of all people!’
Crimson, Bianca hurriedly protested. ‘I didn’t mean... We haven’t been to... I mean for heaven’s sake, Judy, of course we haven’t.’
‘You haven’t been to bed with him?’ Judy asked bluntly.
‘No, certainly not!’
‘So how do you know how his skin feels?’
‘Judy! I’ve seen a lot of him since I arrived, OK?’
Judy giggled. ‘You must have done! On the beach, did you say? Or has the action moved up into your bedroom?’
‘You have a dreadful mind!’ Bianca told her crossly.
‘And you didn’t answer the question. Never mind, I think I get the picture. I’m glad you’re having a good time—this was just what you needed—but just remember that holiday romances always fizzle out when you get back home, so keep your head, and for God’s sake don’t sleep with him without a condom, however gorgeous he is!’
‘I didn’t say I... I wouldn’t... There’s no question of...’ Bianca was completely at a loss, spluttering and very flushed. She heard Judy laughing again.
‘OK, don’t go to pieces. Anyway, what’s the weather like there?’
That was a safer subject; Bianca relaxed a little. ‘It’s been wonderful, quite hot today, in fact. Hot enough to sit on the beach all afternoon, and swim in the sea. I’m getting a tan.’
Judy groaned. ‘You’re so lucky! Oh, here’s Vicky coming in to find out who’s on the phone— It’s your mum... I’ll put her on now, Bianca. Have a great time and remember...be careful!’
‘Judy, you won’t tell them...’ Bianca began, and then she heard Vicky’s voice on the other end of the line.
‘Mum? How’s Spain?’
‘Wonderful,’ Bianca said quickly, and talked about the weather, the Alhambra, the hotel complex, the beach, the gardens, her apartment. She did not mention the mugging or Gil Marquez, praying that Judy wouldn’t breathe a word to either Vicky or Tom.
‘I’ve sent you postcards, from Granada and from Marbella—do you remember us going to Spain?’
‘With Dad? Of course,’ said Vicky oddly. ‘Here’s Tom, Mum—he wants to talk to you too. Bye; enjoy yourself.’
She was gone before Bianca could answer. Tom came on the line and cheerfully chattered away about his latest football match being cancelled because the pitch was frozen and covered in snow, complained about his homework and his maths teacher. Bianca felt love welling up inside her; he was so uncomplicated, so normal. He wasn’t as touchy or difficult as his sister, thank heavens!
‘Mum, can I have a new pair of football boots? There’s this really great pair in Willows, and if I had them I just know I would get goals.’
‘How much?’ asked Bianca, and then, ‘How much?’ in h
orror and disbelief when he told her. ‘You have got to be kidding! I could buy myself a summer wardrobe for that much. Forget it.’ Then she asked him about food. ‘You aren’t just living on baked beans, are you? Or was Judy exaggerating?’
‘I like baked beans,’ he said. ‘Vicky keeps trying to make me eat her diet stuff but I’m hungry when I get home. Salad is for rabbits.’
She laughed rather helplessly. ‘Try to eat protein, darling—some eggs, some cheese—nuts are good; eat lots of nuts.’
‘Peanuts?’ he asked suspiciously.