Page 35 of A Perfect Algarve Villa
‘Why don’t you go back to England?’ asked Emily.
‘I guess I think of what life would be like for me in Great Yarmouth compared to what I have here. I could never afford to buy a flat, let alone a house in Norfolk. At least I stand a chance out here.’
Fran stopped and waved an arm at the barren landscape in front of them. Twenty-first century life hardly seemed to have touched this place. Miles of untidy vegetation with a single line of electricity poles pointed the way to a small white village nestled into the side of a distant hill.
‘The rural Portuguese live a simple life,’ Fran continued. ‘They grow their own vegetables, keep chickens, go fishing. Do you know the average wage here is just over a thousand pounds a month! Theaverage.The Portuguese don’t live off credit like us Brits. Stuff just isn’t important to them. It’s about family and simple pleasures like a day at the beach, or Sunday lunch with family.’
‘Don’t you have ambitions to get married, have a family?’
Fran stumbled, missed her footing, and Emily offered an arm in support. She tested her ankle before saying, ‘I’m not that conventional. What’s the rush? I’m still in my twenties ... just. And anyway, I’m happy with my life.’
They reached a riverbed and took a path to the right, walking single-file into scrubland. Emily heard a stomach-curdling growl. Her eyes fell on a large brown dog, and she quickly tugged her dogs behind her.
Fran laughed. ‘Don’t worry about him.’ She pointed to a man wielding a pickaxe nearby. ‘Portuguese dogs are trained to protect their patch. That dog won’t come near us.’
‘Even though we’ve got dogs too?’
‘Nope. As long as you never cross their boundaries. Their job is to defend, not attack.’
Emily picked up her pace, her mind churning around ideas for a B&B.
She could hear water flowing gently to her left, beyond the bamboo that grew along the dry riverside. To grow the business, she would need five-star reviews; she’d have to update the rule book, make sure Mark didn’t snap at her guests. As the path meandered closer to the plants, Emily saw through their screen into the empty riverbed and realized the noise wasn’t water but the wind rustling through the fronds of the bamboo. Strangely she didn’t feel empty at the thought of running a B&B; she felt invigorated, liberated almost. She would be earning seriousmoney.
When the path widened, and they were once more walking side by side, Emily asked, ‘Do you envy the rich lifestyle of the other expats?’
Fran roared with laughter. ‘What a ridiculous question! Envy won’t change anything. Anyway, I’m happy letting them stress themselves towards an early grave. Me, I’m content to feast off the scraps they toss me.’
‘Don’t you worry for the future?’
‘Nah. Always land butter-side up, me. The trick is, never set the bar too high.’ She paused and then said, ‘I have my dreams, and one day I’ll find a way to make them come true.’
Emily gave a short laugh. Whatever happened to her dreams?
Slamming the front door, the following evening, Emily unclipped the dogs and prowled through the house, trying to see it through the eyes of paying guests, jotting down ideas in a little pink notebook. She ran her eyes over Alex’s bedroom one more time. Mark had done a decent job of painting it second time around. Maybe a throw for the bed? And some cushions and a couple of rugs either side of the bed so guests wouldn’t be stepping onto cold shiny tiles. She opened the bathroom door, paused, and scribbled:Fix wonky door handle Alex bathroom.
Suddenly she felt Mark’s hands on her shoulders. ‘He’s not coming back already, is he?’
She bit her lip. ‘I miss him.’
Mark squeezed her shoulder and dropped a kiss on her head. ‘I know, but he must start fending for himself. Can I ask you to do something for me please?’
She turned and faced him. ‘What?’
‘Could you close the front door, not slam it? That lock’s a monster to fix.’
She winced. She hadn’t even noticed it was fixed. ‘I’ve a money-making idea I’d like to discuss.’
‘I’m all ears. I’ll get the kettle on.’
On the terrace, Emily tucked the notebook into the seat beside her and picked up her mug. ‘If we want more income, fast, we should start renting out rooms.’
Mark gasped. ‘Brilliant idea ... but I don’t have time to set up another business.’
She shot him a filthy look. ‘I’m not asking you to. I’ll do it.’
He snorted, sending a surge of anger through her. ‘On a day-to-day basis,’ he said, ‘but you need a business plan and a website, and there’ll be red tape to sort out, and I’m too busy.’
Emily snapped. ‘Not busy enough. You forgot to turn the dishwasher on last night.’
