Chapter Ten:  Monserrat 

 

Within thirty minutes of leaving the stadium in Barcelona she had taken a taxi to the station and booked herself a train ticket and a two night stay in what looked like a quaint and quiet B&B hotel in Monserrat. Then, via a QR code, she had ordered herself a gin and tonic and was in a bar at the station waiting for the train that would take her into the Spanish mountains.

The rectangular piece of metal genius she carried with her constantly made life so easy sometimes, but it had its downfalls, like the constant notifications she was now getting and the posts she was being tagged in. She didn’t want to see what the critics and pundits were saying about her performance against Barcelona, whether it be good or bad. 

After downing the gin, she vowed not to drink again for the rest of the weekend, and then made her way to the platform to wait for her train.  

 

The little hotel she arrived at a couple of hours later was old-fashioned but spotlessly clean. Her room was pretty; a hand-embroidered blanket was splayed across a dark wooden bed, and there was a small bouquet of wildflowers on the desk under a window which had a view out over the countryside. Eve left her bags where they fell, flung the window open and breathed in deeply before collapsing onto the bed. Kate would have hated this hotel room, would have whined and preferred somewhere shiny and sleek, somewhere with a spa. While, to Eve it felt so comforting and peaceful that she promptly fell asleep and woke up three hours later when the air had cooled and darkness had fallen. She jolted awake and grasped around for a light switch. As she was closing the window, her stomach gave out an enormous growl. What kind of an athlete was she? She hadn’t eaten since breakfast and had played ninety plus minutes of football. Food had to be the first item on her agenda; she could almost feel her leg muscles wasting away. Having quickly changed into denim shorts and a cropped t-shirt, she dashed down the stairs to the reception area. 

‘Ola.’ She smiled at the sleepy-eyed guy who was sat behind the counter where she’d checked in. ‘alimento’? 

‘You want to eat?’ he replied in perfect English. 

‘Si. Is there a restaurant nearby?’ 

‘There are a lot of good restaurants nearby.’ 

‘Excellent.’ 

‘But it is nearly ten, senorita, they will be closing soon.’ 

‘Right.’ Eve felt like crying and her stomach growled again, audibly. As she was contemplating whether food delivery apps had reached Montrserrat, an older, broad lady in an apron appeared from a door behind the counter and spoke rapidly to the guy behind the counter.  She punched his shoulder and chastised him in a way that suggested she might be an aunt or grandmother and he shrugged at Eve. 

‘She asks you want chicken, rice, tomatoes, is kind of...’ he jiggled his hands around searching for the right English word. Eve guessed it was some kind of one-pot stew, similar to what she had eaten at Greta’s house. It was probably the leftovers from their family meal. 

‘Si, yes, por favor. Gracias.'   

He pointed her in the direction of a table in the small bar. ‘Sit, sit, she will get.’ There was only one other guest at the bar, a young, lanky pale-faced guy who was slumped in a seat and looking broodily at a small television set that was showing a men’s football match. Eve presumed his side were losing and ignored him completely. 

The food arrived quickly and smelled delicious; the elder lady patted her arm as she put it down in front of her. Eve said her thanks in Spanish and asked about the bill but was waved away. ‘We have left.’   

‘Espanol,’ the guy asked, much to Eve's surprise, making her jump a little. ‘Or English?’ 

With a forkful of food between her mouth and the plate, Eve stopped to tell him she was English. 

He smiled. He was handsome, nice teeth, broad shoulders. He sat up straighter and motioned towards the TV. ‘Do you want me to turn the footie off?’ He waved a remote control in the air. He had obviously been allowed control of it by the hotel staff. 

Eve took another mouthful of food while she shook her head. ‘It’s fine.’ 

‘Cool. Sorry, but can I be weird and join you? I’m Tom by the way.’ He was moving before Eve gave her answer, his apology just an excuse for his pushiness.  

‘I was going to have another cheeky glass of wine. Can I get you one?’ Tom asked as he sat down. 

Eve hesitated, having promised herself after her gin and tonic at the train station that she would go into full athlete mode, but Tom ordered two glasses of wine anyway with a click of his fingers. The young guy behind the reception desk raised an eyebrow at him but went behind the bar anyway and returned with two glasses of red.  

‘Oh, is that alright,’ Tom asked as it was put down in front of them. ‘Do you prefer white?’ 

She did prefer white, but when in Spain, and all that. Eve took a sip and it soothed her, warmed her.  

‘Is okay?’  

Eve glanced up at Carlos, the receptionist and barman and they shared a look of understanding. ‘Gracias Carlos.’ If she needed him, he would be there. Tom she had already decided was a bit of a prick, but not a dangerous one.   

‘London?’ Tom asked as Carlos moved slowly away. 

She nodded. ‘Born south but spent most of my life north.’ 

‘Me too. Born and bred in Crystal Palace.’ 

‘I know it well.’ Eve nodded while she ate. ‘Why are you in Spain?’ 

‘Oh,’ He ran his fingers through his floppy blonde fringe. ‘Just, I'm in IT, don’t know why that’s relavant, sorry. Split up from my girlfriend. And, it was tough, I tried the dating apps, you know, but I thought to myself, get away, walk, see the world. So, I’m going to climb the mountain.’  

Eve’s attitude to him immediately softened. ‘Sorry, that’s rough.’ 

‘Are you going to climb the mountain?' 

‘Yes, I think so. I haven’t thought about it too much. Had a few days off work, didn’t want to go back to the UK.’ 

‘You live here?’ 

‘Apparently,’ she raised her glass and smiled. 

‘Cool,’ Tom replied. He seemed far too old to be saying, ‘cool’, 

On the television behind them, someone scored a goal. ‘I’m Tom.’ He sent out a hand for Eve to shake which she did. ‘That your team?’ 

‘No, I don’t even like football, really. I just, I mean I