‘Not at the moment, but thanks.’
Sofia had moved her pink and white striped towel to sit in the full glare of the sun.
‘OK, whatever you two are talking about looks a bit heavy. That’s enough of that. That sounds like late night stuff, to be discussed at length when we’ve downed a few.’
Maddie mouthed ‘bossy cow’ at Charlotte, which at least raised a smile.
Sofia raised her hand.
‘And before anyone says it, yes, I know I’m sitting directly in the sun. Being half Spanish has its advantages, and one of them is the ability to tan easily. Believe me, after sitting in that office day in day out for what seems like ever, I’m desperate to feel the sun on my body.’
Sofia stretched her arms up into the air and pushed out her chest.
‘Apparently, there’s a nudist beach on the other side of the town. Anyone else up for it?’
Maddie pulled her hat down even further and hugged her knees under her pink floral kaftan, another number she’d knocked up herself.
‘Not me, that’s for sure.’
Charlotte shook her head.
‘Me neither. No interest in showing the world my stretch marks and Caesarean scar. Not that I’d ever swap my kids, but not having any has certainly helped you keep your fabulous figure, Sof. No more bikinis for me. But if I had your body, perhaps even I’d be tempted.’
Charlotte was confident that Sofia would take this as the compliment it was. That was the advantage of knowing someone for so long. They knew everything, or as near to everything as it was possible to, about each other. Which wasn’t quite the case at the moment, but she was working on it.
In the early years, they’d shared everything, from starting their periods to the stress of exams to the joy and despair of boyfriends. She’d met Maddie and Sofia a couple of weeks after they all started at secondary school, and the three of them had remained tight to this day.
They’d never been the popular girls, in fact Charlotte smiled remembering how downright awkward they’d been back in the day. Three only children, without any siblings to pave the way at a sprawling comprehensive. Sofia had been teased for her bracesand the trace of a Spanish accent, she for having a posh voice and being tall and skinny, and Maddie for her flattened northern vowels and blushing the same colour as her hair if anyone even spoke to her.
They’d improved with age, like fine wine, or that’s what they liked to believe. The combination of a petite brunette, a gangly blonde and a redhead with a temper to match always reminded her of a selection box. Dressed up in their finery, they were convinced they’d still got it.
Sofia had said way back in school that she never wanted children and stuck to it. She’d been a favourite, if sometimes overindulgent, aunty to her and Maddie’s children, but she’d never shown the slightest inkling to change her mind. Obviously, it was far too late now anyway.
Sofia wagged her finger at the two of them.
‘We’ll see. Swimming naked is one of life’s true pleasures. Maybe later on in the trip when you’re both a bit more relaxed, I can gently persuade you.’
Charlotte snorted.
‘Force us into it, you mean, with your special set of lawyer-talk tools?’
‘Oh, I didn’t know that was a thing. Where can I buy some? Is there a B&Q near the Old Bailey?’
‘Very funny.’ Charlotte eyed her friend. ‘How did you manage to get three weeks off in one go anyway? Normally we have to push you to even take a long weekend away from that office. What have you promised to do?’
Sofia fiddled with one of the tassels on her hammam towel.
‘Nothing. It just came… at the right time.’
Not that it had been her choice. It was true that such a long trip was unheard of at her company. The words permanent holiday flashed into her mind, but she blinked to get rid of them.
‘Speak up, Sof. I can see there’s more to this than meets the eye.’
Sofia touched her nose and spread out some imaginary suncream.
‘Are you planning a new career as a private detective?’
‘No, but I’m very good at knowing when you’re lying, Pinocchio. I’ve watched you in action with our old headmaster, Mr Turner, remember, who you persuaded that it was a case of mistaken identity when we were caught smoking with the naughty boys round the back of the bike sheds.’
