A Wild Affair

'I don't blame her.'

They had walked down the narrow road leading back towards the sea. In the distance she could see the unreal blue of the water, the cloudless brilliance of the sky above it stretching to where they met on the horizon, a picture postcard beauty which had destroyed the little fishing port which had once stood here, and replaced it with palaces of concrete and glass, and artificial green lawns set with islands of gaudy flowers. The tides of holidaymakers flooded in with the spring and out again, no doubt, with the onset of autumn, leaving the town dead and empty and meaningless.

'You'd like her,' Joe said suddenly.

Quincy turned her head to look at him, but the dark glasses defeated her, as always, and she could not decipher his expression. 'Who?' she asked blankly.

'My mother—we're staying at a hotel a few miles up the coast, will you come over and have lunch tomorrow?'

They had reached his car and before Quincy could answer they were pounced upon by a tall, olive-skinned policeman who had been prowling morosely around it and who, seeing them halt, swung round to say: 'Ah, senor!' in a menacing tone before commencing a long sentence in Spanish of which Quincy understood not a word but which she gathered was not complimentary.

Joe halted him, a hand on his arm and said something briefly, then looked round at Quincy. 'Where are you staying?'

'The Hotel Madrid,' she said.

'You'll come to lunch tomorrow?' Seeing her hesitate, he added quickly: 'You will, won't you, Quincy? I'll pick you up at noon at the hotel.'

The policeman was listening with a frown, impatience in his face. Quincy sighed and nodded before she walked away, leaving Joe to deal with the offended law.

She was far too late for lunch, the dining-room was empty, and as she let herself into her room Penny sprang out of her own to hiss furiously: 'Quincy, where on earth have you been?'

She turned round, her face contrite. 'I'm sorry, have you been worried?'

'Have I been worried?' Penny repeated, fizzing with irritation. 'I was on the point of declaring you officially missing—what happened to you? Why did you vanish like that? I thought you'd come back to the hotel for lunch and I ran all the way back here only to find you weren't here, either. I didn't know what to think— where have you been?'

'I met someone,' Quincy said, very flushed.

'You haven't let a Spaniard pick you up?' Penny demanded. 'Quincy, honestly…'

'No,' said Quincy. 'It was someone I knew.' She couldn't bring herself to confess that she had bumped into Joe Aldonez, although she realised that sooner or later Penny was going to find out if Joe meant to come to the hotel tomorrow.

Penny looked surprised, which was only to be expected, since they had known each other all their lives and lived in a very small community where everyone knew everyone else. 'Who?' Penny asked, obviously searching her memory for the name of someone likely to have chosen Spain for their holiday. As far as Penny was aware, Quincy didn't know anyone Penny didn't know too.

'You don't know him,' Quincy told her, and Penny looked disbelieving.

'I don't? Then who is it?' Suspicion showed in her face. 'You've been holding out on me, Quincy—is he special?'

Quincy hesitated, but the only answer to that had to be in the affirmative, so she agreed. 'Yes.'

'Too special to talk about?' Penny was looking excited now, curiosity vying with sympathy in her eyes.

'Yes,' said Quincy, relieved to be able to tell some of the truth, at least. 'I'm sorry you were worried, I shouldn't have dashed off like that without telling you, but...'

'But you just forgot I existed!' Penny said drily, and Quincy laughed and nodded.

'Afraid so—sorry.'

'It must be love,' Penny said, and Quincy almost flinched, hiding it with a pretence of a smile, before she went into her room.

'Did you get lunch?' Penny asked, and she nodded. Although she had missed lunch she wasn't hungry, her mind was too busy with other thoughts, she had no attention to spare for food.

'I think I'll take a shower,' she said. 'I've got a bit of a headache.'

'I've got some more shopping to do,' said Penny. 'I want to get Jim a present. While you're showering, I'll take a walk, okay?'

'Fine,' Quincy said gratefully, and was glad when the door had closed and she was alone. She slid out of her robe, unhooked the top of her swimsuit and peeled it off, then walked into the shower, standing under the lukewarm water with closed eyes, letting the salt wash out of her hair, the trickle of the spray cool her heated skin. Her heart was beating far too fast and her nerves prickled as though she had developed some strange illness, but it was a sickness she had been carrying for a long time, although she had only just admitted it to herself. Penny's casual, laughing words had merely said aloud what she had known when she came back from London—she was in love with Joe, she had fallen in love almost before she saw him, listening to the velvety seduction of his voice day after day. Until she actually met him it had been a dream, a fantasy, a game of love from which she might one day have awoken to fall in love with some other man, someone from her own world, but Joe had walked out of his dream setting and become real to her, turning her fantasy into reality.

She wrapped herself in a large white towel and sat on the stool in front of the dressing-table, rubbing her damp hair and looking at her reflection with dismay. Why had Penny had to say that? She could have gone on for ever pretending that she did not know how deep her own feelings were—but now she had to face them and it hurt, because her love was so stupid, so pointless. Joe could never return it, he would never feel that way about her. He had made love to her in London only because she was there, it had been the automatic reaction of a male instinct and had had no root in emotion, Quincy had known that at the time. Even so hot colour swept up her face at the memory of the night he had come to Lilli's flat, exhausted, and held her in his arms on the couch, naked desire in his dark eyes as he touched her. Perhaps that had been the moment when her feelings had deepened into real passion—the dreamy romanticism had become a burning need as she hovered nervously on the verge of surrender, all the more powerful because it was the first time she had ever felt like that. All that she knew of passion she had learnt that night; Joe's hands had taught her body needs it had never felt before, and ever since she had been aching for that final lesson, longing to experience the intimacy only lovers know.