Hook line and single, p.14
Hook, Line and Single, page 14
‘Welcome to Barcelona, Policía Ingles,’ he says, holding out his hand. ‘I am Alejandro Martinez, the chief of police here. Let us go through to my office, where we will be more comfortable. Please.’
He opens the door and Cameron and I follow him through, down a wood-panelled corridor until we reach his office. He holds the door open for us and ushers us inside.
‘Please sit down,’ he says, indicating the chairs in front of his desk before walking round and sitting behind it. ‘How can I be of help?’
‘It’s only a small thing,’ Cameron tells him. ‘My companion here has just had her phone and bag stolen outside the Sagrada Família, and we felt we ought to report it. Unfortunately, time is short because we have to rejoin our cruise ship. I hope you don’t mind me cutting the line.’
‘Of course not.’ He turns to me. ‘Your phone, it is an iPhone, I think?’
‘That’s right. How did you know?’
‘They are the most popular for the thieves. Was it new?’
‘No. About five years old.’
‘Hm.’
‘What?’ Cameron asks him.
‘There are two types of people who steal phones around that area. If your phone had been new, I would have told you that it had almost certainly been stolen by an organised gang, and there would be no chance of getting it back. I would give you a reference number and send you on your way with an apology. But the gangs have no interest in a phone as old as yours, which means it’s probably been taken by an opportunist, and many of them are not very clever. Do you have the tracking feature?’
‘I do.’
‘Let us try it, shall we?’ He beckons me round to his side of the desk and, between us, we launch the website and I enter the login details. After a moment, a map shows my iPhone in a suburb towards the north-east of the city. Alejandro sighs expressively.
‘I think we can solve this for you,’ he says before picking up his own phone, dialling a number, and barking a stream of Spanish into it.
‘You know who has it?’ I ask incredulously when he disconnects the call.
‘I’m pretty certain, yes,’ he replies. ‘That address is where Jose lives. He is not a bad boy, but he is also not clever. He hangs around with a nasty crowd and tries to impress them with stupid things like this. I’ve told him many times, “Jose, this is not the direction you want to go in your life,” but he doesn’t listen. At the moment, he is too young for prison, but if he doesn’t change soon, that is where he will go. His poor mother is, what is the English phrase?’
‘At her wits’ end?’ I offer.
He smiles. ‘Yes. She is a good woman, a devout Catholic who goes to mass every Sunday to pray for Jose. Sadly, I do not think God is listening to her.’
We’re interrupted by Alejandro’s phone ringing. ‘Sí,’ he barks into the handset, and I can hear a babble of Spanish from the other end.
‘Your phone, it is white, with a pink rubber case?’ he asks me after a few moments.
‘That’s right.’
‘My officers have it. They will be here in around forty minutes. Can I get you something while you wait? Coffee?’
‘No, I’m fine, thank you. I’m sorry for causing you so much trouble.’
Alejandro laughs. ‘It is nothing. If I come to your country and suffer misfortune, maybe you will extend the same courtesy, hmm?’
While we wait for the officers to return with my phone, Cameron and Alejandro have been swapping stories and are getting on so well I’m starting to wonder if they’re going to become lifelong friends. I’m not able to track the passage of time as there isn’t a clock in here, so I’m hoping that Cameron is keeping an eye; much as I want my phone back, I don’t want to miss the boat.
Eventually, Alejandro’s phone rings again and, after a brief conversation, he ducks out and returns holding my phone, handing it to me as if it’s some kind of trophy.
‘I am sorry about your bag,’ he tells me. ‘My officers asked, but Jose dumped it as soon as he realised there was nothing of value inside.’
‘You’ve already done more than we could have asked for,’ Cameron assures him. ‘Thank you so much. If I could just ask one more favour, which is a taxi to take us back to our ship?’
‘Your ship,’ Alejandro repeats, staring at his watch in horror. ‘Joder, I completely forgot. Give me the name, maybe I can get the port authorities to delay departure for long enough so you can get there.’
‘It’s the Spirit of Malmö,’ Cameron tells him as he grabs his phone once more and starts barking Spanish into it. However, the expression on his face tells me everything I need to know before he speaks.
‘I am so sorry,’ he tells us. ‘Your ship has already departed.’
18
For a moment, time seems to stand still as Cameron and I digest Alejandro’s bombshell. The ship has gone; we’re stranded in Barcelona. Alejandro is still rattling away in Spanish to the person on the other end of the phone, but all I can do is stare at Cameron in horror.
‘Sorry about that,’ Alejandro says as he disconnects his call. ‘I was trying to find out if the pilot was still aboard, because sometimes we can get passengers out to the ship on the boat that collects the pilot, but my colleague at the harbour tells me that it’s already left as well.’
‘What do we do?’ I ask Cameron.
‘We’ll have to find our own way to the next port and meet the ship there,’ he tells me. ‘Have you got your passport?’
I fish it out of my bum bag and show it to him.
‘Great. Now all we need to do is work out how to get to Cannes before the ship does.’
‘The fastest way is to fly,’ Alejandro tells us. ‘There are regular flights to Nice from Barcelona. You’re welcome to use my computer to book them.’
Twenty minutes later, we’ve established that the first flight we can get onto is at half past two the next afternoon but, as Alejandro stated, it’s still a lot quicker than trying to get there by train; we checked just to be sure and found it would take over eight hours.
‘It’s a bit tighter than I’d want it to be,’ Cameron observes as he books us in. ‘But it does give us two hours to get to the ship once we land. Let’s hope there aren’t any delays. Right, let’s have a look at hotels for tonight.’
‘Hotels?’ Alejandro sounds almost offended. ‘You won’t need a hotel. You will be staying with me and my family. It’s the least we can do.’
‘Oh, I don’t think we could impose on you that much,’ I tell him. ‘You’ve already done more than enough.’
‘Nonsense,’ he says robustly. ‘If I go home and say to my wife that some English friends had a misfortune in Barcelona and missed their ship, but I left them alone in a hotel, what do you think she will say to me? She will say, “Alejandro, I am ashamed of you.” I am sure it is the same in your country, yes?’
I glance at Cameron, and I can see from his guilty expression that his thought process is exactly the same as mine. If our situations were reversed, I’m sure neither of us would have had any qualms about sticking Alejandro in a hotel. Spanish hospitality is obviously rather more impressive than British.
Alejandro has evidently taken our silence as consent, as he’s engaged in another quickfire conversation on his phone. The voice on the other end is female and, to her credit, seems to be giving Alejandro as good as she gets.
‘That’s settled,’ he says when he finishes the call. ‘My wife is expecting you. Come, let’s go.’
‘I’m really not sure this is necessary, Alejandro,’ Cameron says carefully as we follow him towards the back door of the police station. ‘We’ve put you to enough trouble.’
Alejandro grins. ‘It’s nothing compared to the trouble I will have if I arrive home without you. If I left you in a hotel now, my wife would come and fetch you herself. We have been married very happily for eight years. Do you know why? Because I learned very early not to say no to her. She is expecting visitors. Let us give her what she wants, hmm?’
Even though it’s early evening, it feels like we’ve been hit by a wall of heat as we step out of the air-conditioned building into the car park behind. Alejandro leads us over to his car, a dusty SEAT estate. I’ll admit I was expecting Cameron to do the patriarchal thing and get into the front of the car next to Alejandro, but he surprises me by climbing in the back with me.
‘Even by Barcelona standards, it is hot,’ Alejandro observes as he starts the engine and turns the aircon up to max. ‘It will be better when we get to my home. I live in the hills above the city, and it’s cooler there.’
As the car noses out into the Barcelona traffic, Cameron takes my hand again and gives it a reassuring squeeze. ‘Are you OK?’ he murmurs into my ear.
‘I don’t know,’ I whisper back. ‘Alejandro’s nice, but this all feels a bit intense.’
‘Look at it this way,’ he offers. ‘We’re going to experience proper Spanish-slash-Catalan culture, away from the tourist trail. And he’s the chief of police, so we couldn’t really be in safer hands. Let’s enjoy this, and then tomorrow we’ll catch our flight and rejoin the cruise. We’ll have stories to tell that even Brad won’t be able to equal.’
The thought makes me smile, and I squeeze Cameron’s hand tightly as we start to leave the city behind and climb into the hills.
Alejandro is right. Although it’s still warm when we step out of the car nearly an hour later, there’s a pleasant breeze taking the edge off the heat, and I turn my face towards it, enjoying the sensation. Alejandro barely gets the front door of the house open before he’s rugby tackled by two of the cutest children I think I’ve ever seen.
‘Cameron, Ruby, this is my daughter Sofia,’ he tells us as he gently disentangles himself from a raven-haired girl that I’d estimate to be around six. ‘And this is my son Pedro.’ Even without introductions, the family resemblance between the two children is strong enough to mark them out as brother and sister. Although he can’t be more than four, Pedro is nearly as tall as his older sister already. As soon as the two children spot us, their eyes widen in curiosity.
‘Sofia, Pedro, aquests són en Cameron i la Ruby. Són amics d’Anglaterra que es quedaran amb nosaltres aquesta nit,’ Alejandro tells them.
‘Sí, pare, ho sabem. La mare ja ens ho va explicar,’ Sofia replies. I may not be able to understand what she’s saying, but the tone is clearly recognisable as one that every little girl worldwide would use when explaining something to a particularly dim parent. It makes me smile. Pedro still says nothing, staring at us as if we were exotic creatures from another world.
‘Are they speaking Catalan?’ Cameron asks Alejandro.
‘That’s right. Most people in Barcelona speak both Spanish and Catalan. At work, I tend to speak Spanish, but we use Catalan at home.’
As we step into the cool hallway, the two children scamper ahead of us. The air is thick with the most delicious aromas and I breathe them in appreciatively. It seems ages ago that Cameron and I were enjoying lunch, and I realise that I’m ravenously hungry. Alejandro leads us straight through the house and out onto a terrace at the back, where a woman with a baby clamped to her hip is laying a table.
‘El meu amor,’ Alejandro says as he leans in to kiss her, before unexpectedly switching to English. ‘This is Ruby and Cameron, who I told you about. Ruby, Cameron, this is my wife Gabriela.’
‘I am very pleased to meet you,’ Gabriela tells us, holding out her free hand. ‘You are very welcome to our home.’
‘Gabriela lived in the UK for a few years after finishing her studies,’ Alejandro explains proudly, evidently clocking the look of surprise on our faces. ‘She speaks better English than anyone I know.’
‘That wouldn’t be hard,’ she retorts. ‘Most of the people who come through your police station struggle to make themselves understood in our native tongues, let alone any other languages. Now, please relax. Dinner will be in an hour or so. Alejandro tells me you’ve had a difficult day, but I find this terrace is a good place just to sit and unwind.’ She switches back to Catalan for what seems like a lively exchange with Alejandro, who is easing the cork out of a bottle of sparkling wine.
‘Cava,’ he says as he offers us each a glass. ‘It’s made locally and is among the best you’ll taste anywhere.’ He guides us to a couple of chairs that are positioned to take full advantage of the view over the valley beneath us.
‘This place is incredible, Alejandro,’ I tell him as I take a sip and enjoy the sensation of the bubbles dancing on my tongue.
‘It is. Gabriela and I had a small flat in the city when we were first married, but our dream was always to move up here. When her grandfather died last year, he left us some money and we were able to buy this. It is so much better for the children; the air is clean up here and they have space to use their energy. Talking of children, I need to supervise their bath time. Are you OK here for a little while? If you need anything, just call.’
‘We’ll be more than OK, thank you, Alejandro,’ I tell him.
‘I love my flat in Margate, but this is next level,’ I murmur to Cameron a while later as we sip our drinks. Every so often, Gabriela appears with a small plate of something and places it on the table between us. So far, we’ve had deliciously tender calamaris, patatas bravas, and spicy chorizo. Our protests that she doesn’t need to spoil us have fallen on completely deaf ears. I have managed to prise the baby, who I’ve learned is called Felipe, off her, and he’s currently sitting on my lap, staring at me in wonder with his enormous dark brown eyes.
‘Mm,’ he agrees. ‘I know it’s a pain to have missed the ship, but I kind of feel we’ve actually been lucky, in a funny way. Just think, we could be in the Nautilus lounge right now, watching Barry’s latest crazy game. It doesn’t really compare, does it.’
‘Shit,’ I say suddenly. ‘I haven’t told Sam what’s happened. She’ll be worried.’
‘You can try sending her a message,’ he offers. ‘They might still be in range.’
‘Doubtful, but there isn’t really much else I can do.’ I pull out my phone and start a WhatsApp.
Hi Sam. Just to let you know Cameron and I missed the ship!! We’re still in Barcelona, but we’re going to catch a flight and meet up with you in Cannes tomorrow. Hope everything is OK your end. Rxx
I watch the ticks carefully, but there’s only a single grey. The message hasn’t got through.
‘Is everything OK? Are you enjoying the view?’ Alejandro asks as he joins us. Sofia and Pedro are with him, their wet hair slicked back.
‘Yes. Ruby was just trying to send a message to her friend on the ship to let her know everything is OK, but I think they’re out of range.’
Alejandro grins. ‘Of cellphones, certainly. But they will have to work a lot harder to be out of range of Alejandro. What is your friend’s name?’
‘Sam. Sam Thorncroft,’ I tell him. Once again he pulls out his phone to make a call. I don’t understand any of it beyond the words Spirit of Malmö, Sam Thorncroft and Ruby, but he’s evidently very pleased with himself by the time the call ends.
‘My friend the harbourmaster has radioed your message to the ship’s captain. They will leave a note outside your friend’s cabin to let her know that all is well.’
‘Thank you,’ I tell him sincerely. ‘You really have been our guardian angel today.’
‘It is nothing,’ he replies as he leans down to pick up Felipe, although his expression indicates that he’s enjoying the compliment. ‘Now, I think dinner is ready. Shall we sit at the table?’
Alejandro opens a bottle of red wine as Gabriela serves out the soup to start with. The children sit with us, Sofia and Pedro in chairs and little Felipe in a highchair, digging into their food as enthusiastically as we do.
‘So what were you doing in the UK?’ I ask Gabriela as Alejandro clears away the soup dishes and she starts to pass round plates of delicious-smelling stew.
‘I worked as an au pair to begin with, but the hours were long and the pay not so good. So then I started doing translation work and tutoring, and that was much better. Eventually, however, I missed home. Your winters are so cold! So I came back to Barcelona, met Alejandro and…’ She waves expressively.
‘I was just starting out in the police,’ Alejandro says, picking up the tale. ‘We were called to a bar because some English tourists had had too much to drink and were being impolite. I walked in and saw Gabriela trying to talk them down in her perfect English. I knew straight away that I was in love, but she wasn’t so easy to convince. I had to work very hard for a number of weeks before she would agree to go on a date with me.’
Gabriela smiles. ‘I needed to know he was serious. A lot of boys, they only want one thing and I wasn’t falling for that. What about you? How did the two of you meet?’
I freeze in panic; what to tell them? Thankfully, Cameron is ahead of me.
‘We met on a cruise, actually,’ he tells them. ‘We were both part of a singles group, but we hit it off and here we are.’
‘How lucky,’ Gabriela observes. ‘You seem like a good match, just like Alejandro and me.’
‘That was very clever,’ I say to Cameron a little later. We’re sitting back out on the terrace sipping our coffees while Alejandro and Gabriela clear up and put the children to bed.
‘I was pleased with it. Nothing there was a lie, but they obviously wanted us to be a couple, so I just shifted the timelines a bit to make it sound like we’d known each other longer than we have. You don’t mind, do you?’
‘Not at all. I couldn’t work out what to tell them, so you came to my rescue.’
Despite the coffee, I can feel the events of the day creeping up on me as Alejandro and Gabriela rejoin us.
‘Of course, you must be exhausted,’ Gabriela remarks as I subtly try to stifle a yawn. ‘Alejandro will show you where you are sleeping. I assume your toiletries are all still on the ship, so I’ve put out a few things, but if there’s anything else you need, just tell me.’
