Page 34 of A Perfect Algarve Villa
Which was true. For another month. After then it would switch to the standard variable rate, and Mark couldn’t bring himself to check what that had just risen to, especially as he had a gut feeling the man on the plane was right; interest rates were going to keep climbing.
Twelve
May 5th
Ellis bank balance: (£8,565.23) Overdrawn.
90-Day Rule Tally: Emily: 11 Mark: 0
It was a balmy evening, and the Bentley’s aircon was on maximum, comforting Emily, Fran, and four dogs – Fran was dog-sitting two Labradors – as they headed for a walk in the hills near Boliqueime. Emily parked under the shade of a carob tree, the fruit hanging in black clusters amongst the small waxy leaves, looking like charred runner beans.
‘Wow, it’s still 26 degrees out there,’ exclaimed Emily, glancing at the temperature gauge. ‘The dogs are going to cook.’ She opened the car door and reached down to touch the tarmac. It was only warm. She let out the dogs, calling hers to heel.
The sixsome hiked into the silent, parched, dusty countryside and tramped down a steep dirt road scarred with trammels the winter rainstorms had carved as torrents of water rushed downhill. They walked carefully, picking their way, judging each step to prevent dislodging small stones that might cause them to slip and slide down the hill. When they reached more level terrain, Emily broke the silence.
‘Thanks for all the bookings. I’ve made nearly two hundred euros this week.’
‘Not sure how long I can keep it up for you. The new surfaceis going down on the two end courts this week, and once they’re back in action, I won’t be sending so many players to you.’
Emily’s shoulders drooped. ‘Drat. I had plans for that money!’
‘Should pick up once the tourists descend.’ Fran patted her arm reassuringly. ‘When are Alex and Jess visiting again?’
Emily coughed. ‘I think Alex needs to get a job before he visits again.’
‘What does he live off?’
‘Well, I sub him a bit. Don’t say anything to Mark about that, please?’
‘Sure, I can keep a secret. Reckon I know you well enough now to ask why you’re out here. Tax?’
‘If I had a pound for every time someone asks me that question ...’ Emily replied, wiping the back of her hand over her moist brow.
‘Everyone has a reason for being here, either hiding or dodging tax, so if you aren’t here for tax reasons, what else are you hiding from?’
‘Why are you here?’
Fran laughed. ‘Dunno. Weather? Hiding from my parents?’
They trekked past a network of stone walls enclosing smallholdings of olive trees, the fruit still small, tight and green, waiting to be plumped up by the rain, alongside the ubiquitous carob and ragged, scrappy almond trees. There was no vegetation between the trees, just bare red-brown earth. The remains of a house stood on a flat piece of land, roofless, with only portions of its rooms still standing, the stones that had once protected families from the summer heat and winter rain, pilfered to repair nearby walls.
Emily glanced at the young woman walking beside her. ‘Did your parents used to live in Portugal?’ she asked.
‘No. Great Yarmouth. They’ve run a B&B there since I was a little girl. If you want money, you should do that, three sparebedrooms in the heart of the golden triangle. It could be a goldmine.’
Now there was a money-spinning idea! It wouldn’t be much hassle; Emily liked having guests. She remembered blanching at Mark’s news that Villa Anna’s seller was leaving all the contents, but maybe she could put all that surplus linen and crockery to use after all. She just needed a website, like Ovington Square’s. She reached out an arm and picked a few needles off a rosemary bush, rubbing the thin green leaves between her fingers, and inhaled the strong woody, slightly minty scent. If she rented just the two downstairs bedrooms, it wouldn’t disturb her much. Would it?
‘How much do you reckon I could charge per room?’ she asked.
‘Where you are, with a full English?’
Emily paused. Did she want to commit to a cooked breakfast? ‘Go on then, full English.’
‘At least one-fifty a night,’ said Fran.
‘Wow!’
If she offered all three bedrooms, that would be a couple of grand a week; she could be earning ten thousand a month. Mark would be a happy man. She picked up her pace, a spring in her step.
