Page 68 of Savage Obsession

“That’s ridiculous. I need my money.”

“No, you don’t. Take the card. I’ll arrange for a driver.”

“I can drive myself, and I’ll pay for my own clothes.”

He sighs. “Julia, it’s a matter of security. Aleksy can drive you and make sure you’re safe. Both of you.”

“Safe? Why would we not be safe? It’s a simple trip into Porto de la Cruz to visit a few dress shops. We may not even buy anything.”

“I suspect you will. Lily, certainly. That girl can’t help herself if she sees something pretty.”

“You spoil her.”

“Maybe. That’s my privilege. I have enemies who might try to harm me through you, or my daughter. We need to take sensible precautions, which means you don’t go anywhere unescorted.

“Under guard, you mean.”

“It’s not like that. You’re free to come and go just as you like. Aleksy and the car are at your disposal whenever you want them.”

“I don’t want them. And I don’t want your money.” I spin on my heel and make for the door.

“Very well, but those are my terms. No escort, no outing.”

Seething, I return to the dining room to reflect on the unreasonable injustice of it all. I only have Baz’s word for it that the police are monitoring my bank account, and as for being in danger if we venture out unattended, well, that’s plain ridiculous. This is a holiday island, bursting at the seams with tourists looking for a good time. It’s not the hotbed of sinister criminal activity that Baz describes. Enemies, indeed. He may have enemies, but I sure as hell don’t, not unless you count the Polish police, and I can confidently avoid them.

I make up my mind. I’m hitting the shops, whether he likes it or not.

“Lily, we’re going out.” I pop my head around her bedroom door to find the room empty. I peer out of the window and spot her at the far end of the paddock trotting around on the back of a pretty little mare. As I watch, she breaks into a canter, her long, dark hair streaming behind her. Even at this distance there’s no mistaking the beaming smile on her face.

Baz is right. She is settled, she is happy. She loves the horses, and I’ve no doubt she’ll love the Cartwright School, especially as I spotted Equestrian Studies on their curriculum.

I leave the room and start the hike down to the paddock. The walk gives me an opportunity to phone for a taxi to take the pair of us into town.

Lily takes almost no persuading to join me for a shopping spree. She rides the mare back to the stables, settles her in her stall, then rushes down to the main gate to catch up with me. Our taxi glides up a few minutes later, and we’re on our way.

The drive into Porto de la Cruz takes about half an hour. The driver drops us in a mini-park at the top of one of the main shopping streets, and agrees to pick us up at the same location in two hours. That should allow plenty of time to stroll through a few of the high-end boutiques and pick out something suitable for the subtropical climate.

Lily selects several bikinis and a designer beach bag. I settle for a one-piece swimming costume with matching robe and sandals, perfect for the beach or lounging by the pool at the hacienda. We round off our excursion with an espresso and slice of cake at one of the thousands of beautiful little cafés with tables set out on the pavement, sipping coffee strong enough to blow my head off, watching people stroll by.

“Your father says you like the new school,” I venture.

Lily nods. “It looks cool. They have tennis courts. And a pool.”

“We have those at the hacienda.”

“I know, but there’s no one to play tennis with. Or swim.” At my protest, she ploughs on. “You don’t count. I mean other kids my age.”

I nod. I know she’s right. “He’s organising a visit.”

“Yeah. He said. Do we have time to check out that shoe shop before we go back? They have those cute trainers in the window…”

We make our way back to the place where we arranged to meet our taxi driver. There’s no sign of him. I check my watch. “He’s late. We’ll give him five minutes, then I’ll phone for a different taxi.”

“Can we get an ice cream while we wait?”

There’s a vendor close by, so we buy a pair of cornets with all the trimmings and find a bench in the shade to enjoy them. A couple of minutes later, the late taxi driver pulls up close by.

We pile our purchases into the boot, then slide into the rear seat. The driver eyes our ice creams with suspicion but says nothing. He seems anxious to be off and doesn’t even wait for instructions before diving out into the bustling traffic amid a honking of horns.

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