Page 45 of Not in a Million Years

‘Oh, I spent most of the day in bed with the hot man I pulled last night,’ I said.

‘That’s nic— Hold on, you what?’

‘Not really. I had breakfast and lay by the pool a bit, but it got too hot so I went indoors and… just hung around, really. I got some stuff for Andy, too. Cherry-flavoured Fanta and a few other bits.’

But not the main thing he needed – with his competence and confidence, Daniel had cracked that one, in between his sightseeing and swimming. I felt both annoyed and inadequate.

‘Cherry Fanta?’ Daniel said. ‘That sounds totally minging. But I bet he’ll love it.’

I laughed and felt the atmosphere between us thaw. But we didn’t get to find out Andy’s reaction to our purchases that day, because he was fast asleep. Hakan said he’d had an ‘uncomfortable’ night, which I took to mean that the pain he was in must have been severe, barely touched by the strong drugs. In sleep, his face looked peaceful, though, almost childlike.

Daniel and I sat by the bedside for almost half an hour, looking down at Andy but not speaking so as not to wake him. At last, by silent mutual agreement, we stood up to leave. I reached out and gently smoothed Andy’s pillow.

‘Guess we come again tomorrow,’ Daniel murmured.

I nodded, and we stashed our purchases in Andy’s locker, then trooped despondently back to the car.

‘How long do you think this is going to take?’ I asked.

Daniel shrugged. ‘Your guess is as good as mine. Hakan reckons it’s all down to how well the physio goes and whether the next scan shows the fracture’s healing as it should.’

‘Do you think he’ll ever be okay? I mean, properly okay again?’

‘Kate, I’ve got no idea. If he had any plans to run a marathon or go on Strictly, he might want to put them on hold. But as for normal day-to-day stuff – no one seems to be suggesting he won’t.’

‘And the – the medication he’s on…’ I hesitated to use the word ‘drugs’, even though Andy had used it so glibly himself. ‘Do you think it’ll…’

I tailed off.

‘I don’t know,’ he said, glancing at me and noticing my face. ‘Guess we just have to trust the process.’

‘I guess. Hey, where are you going? Have you lost the ability to map read as well as drive on the correct side of the road?’

Daniel had turned off the motorway a stop sooner than usual, and instead of driving through the tunnel beneath the mountain that led to Alsaya, he was steering up a narrower road that wound steadily upwards, the ground dropping precipitously away beneath it.

‘You all right with this? We can turn back if not.’

‘I’m fine.’ So long as I kept my eyes fixed on the road ahead of us and the side of the mountain rising upwards to my right, as opposed to falling downwards on Daniel’s side. ‘Where are we going?’

‘Just wanted to show you something I discovered when I was out earlier.’

I didn’t say anything more, letting him focus on driving. His steadiness and skill impressed me: he navigated the hairpin bends slowly, yet with enough power to keep the car gliding smoothly up the ever-ascending road.

As last, with evening beginning to fall, we reached the summit. Daniel swung the car into a lay-by and got out. I followed him, cautiously, but a sturdy guard rail stood between us and the edge of the mountain.

On three sides of the escarpment, the sea spread out to the horizon, so pale a blue in the light of the dying day it was almost platinum. The beach was a narrow gold ribbon lying along its edge, bordered by an even thinner line of white surf. The sun was slipping down over the western horizon, a disc of brass in the cloudless sky. The small sprawl of the town lay beneath us, picturesque in the silence, the bustle of its streets stilled by distance. Faintly, the call of gulls reached us on the breeze, and I could hear the song of birds I didn’t recognise closer by.

‘I came this way for a change, to see what it was like,’ Daniel explained. ‘What do you reckon?’

‘It’s beautiful. More than beautiful. It’s breathtaking.’

We spoke softly, but our voices sounded loud in the stillness.

‘Kate,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what’s going to happen. Not tomorrow, not next week, not in a month or a year. Neither of us does. But I do know it’s all going to be a whole lot harder if we’re at each other’s throats the whole time. This isn’t about you and me.’

‘No,’ I admitted. ‘It’s not.’

Beneath the vast dome of the darkening sky, the two of us felt very small. My anger and resentment seemed as distant as the three-quarter moon I could see beginning to edge upwards over Daniel’s shoulder.

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