Dead Man’s Footsteps

126

The margarita was one of the best she had ever drunk. It tasted sharp and strong, the barman had added just the right amount of Cointreau and had salted the rim to perfection. After a week in this hotel, he had got the hang of the way she liked it.

She loved the view from here, lying on the thick, soft mattress on the lounger on the white sand beach, staring out across the bay. And she loved this time of day – late afternoon, when the heat was less fierce and she didn’t need the shade of her parasol. She put her book down for a moment, took another sip and watched the yellow paragliding boat as it powered away from the wooden jetty, across the flat water, heading out into the bay, the orange and red parachute rising into the clear sky.

She might have another swim in a few minutes. She pondered whether to go in the sea or in the hotel’s vast infinity pool, which was a little cooler and more refreshing. Such tough decisions!

She thought constantly about her mother, and about Ronnie and Ricky. Despite all her anger about Ricky, and her shock about Ronnie, she couldn’t help feeling just a tiny bit sorry for each of them, in different ways.

But not that sorry.

‘Are you enjoying that book?’ the woman on the lounger next to her asked suddenly.

Abby had noticed her earlier, asleep, with a copy of a novel she had read recently, Restless, lying on top of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy on the small white table beside her.

‘I am,’ she said. ‘Yes. But most of all, I’m a big Douglas Adams fan. I think I’ve read everything he wrote.’

‘Me too!’

He was the author of one of Abby’s favourite quotations, which she had come across again only recently:

I seldom end up where I wanted to go, but almost always

end up where I need to be.

Which was pretty much how she felt at this moment.

She took another sip of her drink. ‘They make the world’s best margaritas here,’ she said.

‘Maybe I should try one. I only arrived today, so I haven’t sussed out what’s what yet.’

‘It’s great. It’s paradise!’

‘Seems it.’

Abby smiled. ‘I’m Sarah,’ she said.

‘Nice to meet you. I’m Sandy.’