Her sister poked her. ‘It’s a joke, stupid.’
‘I’m not stupid,’ wailed Cristina. ‘You’re mean.’
‘I’m just pointing it out for your own good,’ replied a very superior Katerina, who clearly felt her two-year seniority keenly.
Ana raised her eyes heavenward. ‘I’ll come if it gets me away from these two arguing all the time.’
‘We don’t argue all the time, do we?’ Cristina linked her arm through her sister’s, and the two became a united front.
‘No!’ said Katerina, indignation colouring the vehement word. ‘Come on, we’ll be late for the bus.’
Ana sighed and ignored them as they gathered up their belongings, ready for school. ‘Would you like a pastry, Rebecca? Fresh from the oven.’
The two girls departed and Ana boiled the kettle to make them both a cup of green tea. They sat in companionable silence, munching the still-warmpastel de nata.
‘These are amazing,’ said Rebecca, holding up her half-eaten tart, the rich vanilla custard melting on her tongue. ‘How do you stay so slim when you cook these divine pastries? And it’s such a lovely way to start the day. Much nicer than boring old cornflakes.’
Ana smiled shyly. ‘Good metabolism, I guess, and it’s quite physical making bread and pastry.’ She raised her arms to show off firm biceps.
‘Hard work, I imagine.’
Ana lifted her shoulders in a self-conscious shrug. Rebecca got the impression she didn’t like talking about herself or being the centre of attention. ‘I don’t see it as work. It’s a passion. I’m so fortunate to be able to do what I love and live here with the people I love.’
‘That’s a lovely way of looking at life.’ Rebecca couldn’t imagine that. She loved her family because they were family, but she didn’t love spending time with them, and she certainly didn’t love her job in the brewery. In fact, now she was here, it was a real eye-opener and made her feel a little ashamed for just accepting things without making any effort to change her life for so long. Part of the reason in the last few years had been to stay close to Will. Although she missed him with a keen ache, she already knew that coming here had been a good move. She was going to embrace it and make the most of being here. How could she not? She was already longing to go back to the beachand explore. Felipe had told her that you could walk all the way to Vilamoura, a good five kilometres with a further two into the town centre. She planned to do that on her day off next week.
The spa was Inês’s pride and joy. The reception area was painted in the familiar crisp white with little alcoves painted in the traditional Algarve aqua blue, each containing a stylish piece of driftwood that reflected the overall theme of the room. Even though she sat here every day, Rebecca couldn’t help her hand straying to touch the wonderful lines of the front desk and marvel at its beauty. Made from a huge, thick slice of an oak tree, the wood had been carved and polished so that the natural rings were exposed, their hues of brown, cream and russet polished to a soft sheen. She loved how the design focused on natural elements, with the sea’s waves reflected in the curves of the sofas upholstered in pale, pale lemon velvet adorned with blue silk cushions. They’d been arranged in small groupings around irregularly shaped wooden coffee tables, the highly polished grain similar to the dramatic piece of the front desk.
Rebecca sighed happily and stepped behind the desk, switching on the sleek computer and turning on the soothing music filled with birdsong. It felt like her personal domain as she pottered about, setting out towels in the treatment rooms, ensuring that the vases of flowers had fresh water and giving the wooden floors a quick sweep to remove any lingering dust that might have settled overnight.
With all the chores done, she settled down behind the computer to look at the day’s bookings. There were several therapists available, as well as Inês, but they came in as needed. It was her job to advise them of appointments. This morning,Inês had three clients booked in, two for facials and one for a massage.
Inês swanned in at two minutes to nine, immaculate in a white tunic trimmed with the spa’s signature aqua blue, her long, glossy dark hair sleeked back in a bun. She looked smart and professional.
‘Morning,’ said Rebecca, deliberately cheerful.
Inês frowned at her.
‘What are you wearing?’
‘Morning to you too,’ Rebecca said under her breath and looked down at her gym kit which she’d worn to teach.
‘You should be wearing the spa uniform. I’m sure I told you yesterday that it had arrived.’
Rebecca genuinely couldn’t recall if she had or not.
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘There are two tunics hanging up in the staffroom in your locker.’ She flicked a glance at her watch. ‘You’d better hurry. The first client will be here soon. Go on, hurry.’
Rebecca scurried off. Not a great start to the day. She’d already discovered that Inês was a prickly character. She found two tunics in one of a bank of lockers which sheknew the other woman had pointed out on her first day– buthadshe said the uniform had arrived? Rebecca didn’t think so. And what was wrong with the woman? Why was she so hostile?
Pulling off her yoga pants and sports top as quickly as she could, she grabbed the nearest tunic and slipped it on, wriggling as she tried to get comfortable in the crisp cotton fabric, which was far too tight across her broad shoulders and if anything a little loose in the bust and hips. Inês’s tunic came to her knees and looked neat and tidy, but she was nearly a foot shorter than Rebecca.
Glancing at herself in the mirror, she pinched her lips tight, wondering what on earth Inês was going to say. On Rebecca, thetunic finished halfway between her knees and hips. She could guarantee Inês would not be pleased with the amount of leg she was showing but what else could she do?
Hurriedly stuffing her feet back into her smart white trainers, she went back out to the reception area. Inês was studying the computer, but at the sound of a long, low whistle she looked up, and Rebecca whirled around to find Felipe lounging in the doorway.
‘Nice outfit,’ he said.
