The Dating Game (22 page)

Lisa took a large gulp, ‘It’s not bad this, for two
tickets.’

Indeed it was quite pleasant.  But they had another seventy
stalls to get round. The girls worked their way through some cava from
Penedès
then moved on to
albariño
from Galicia and grenache from La Rioja. 
Whether wisely or not they were heading for a fifth glass, this time red, when
Debbie, ever the voice of reason, said, ‘I think we should use those food
tokens now.’  Agreeing that they needed some sustenance to mop up the intake of
liquid over the last few hours, the girls queued at separate stands for food. 
They came back with a platter of aged cheeses; a few varieties of cooked ham,
excluding the expensive
Iberico
ham; some
boles de picolat
-
spicy meatballs and olives in a rich spicy sauce, and a couple of polystyrene
bowls of chicken and chorizo casserole.  Struggling to balance all of these,
luckily they found a table.  True to Spanish style, the wine festival was not
decked out with tables and chairs.  Instead, it was like at a bar, where you
stood to eat and drink.  About ninety percent of people didn’t even have a
table, and instead balanced their plates on their arms or shovelled forkfuls
into their mouths, whilst hanging onto their plates, as passers-by bumped into
them.

‘This is delicious,’ pronounced Angela, who had fallen on
the chicken and chorizo casserole instantly.  Sharing with Debbie, she had to
hold back not to devour the lot, it was so good.  ‘Debbie, you have to taste
this, seriously, before I finish it,’ Angela proffered the bowl to her,
interrupting Debbie spearing a piece of
jamón Serrano.

‘What?’ Debbie stopped with the fork half way to her mouth.

‘Try this,’ she said.

Debbie, rested her fork on the plate again, dipped her spoon
into the casserole and took some of the meat and liquid.  ‘Oh wow, that’s
incredible.’

‘Told you,’ said Angela smiling.

The girls chatted and ate their
tapas
, whilst people
watching and commenting on the talent around the marina.

‘Why are Spanish men so much fitter looking than Scottish
men?’ Lisa asked.

‘Fitter as in sportier, or as in better looking?’ Angela
asked.

‘Both.’

‘I reckon it’s just the tan, maybe the outdoor lifestyle. 
The weather’s too miserable back home to be outdoors much,’ Debbie put in.

‘Hear, hear,’ said Gill.  ‘But to be honest, I don’t really
go in for dark or tanned men. I like them a bit…’

‘Pasty?’ Lisa offered.

‘No.’

‘Milk-bottle white?’ suggested Angela.

‘No!’

‘I think what Gill is trying to say is she likes them pale
and interesting, like Anton for example.  Isn’t that right?’ Debbie cut in.

Blushing at the mention of Anton and at the thought of what
had happened between them, Gill managed to squeak, ‘Yes, that’s about it.’

‘If we’re going to chat about men, I definitely need another
drink,’ said Lisa.  Who’s coming with me?’

Angela followed Lisa in her quest to procure wine for the
four of them.  So far they had tried everything except red, so after a little
deliberation, they opted for a light and fruity Tempranillo.

‘Not bad that,’ said Lisa, taking a sip as they made their
way back.  Pity we’ve only got one ticket left each.  Not sure if I can be
bothered queuing up again.  Look at the amount of people now.’

Angela turned towards the ticket booths.  True enough, the
lines were enormous.  Droves of people still swarmed into the festival area,
keen to sample the best of Spain’s wine and cava.

As they rejoined the others, Lisa passed a glass to Gill, ‘Here,
get that down your neck.’

‘It’s not a shot you know!’ Angela said in frustration. 
‘You’re meant to take your time with it.’

‘Actually, I suppose you’ve got a point.  We’ve only got
enough tickets left for one drink each.’

‘Exactly, so let’s make the most of this one.’

After their final glass of wine, the girls felt surprisingly
OK, tipsy, but not drunk.  The
tapas
must have bolstered them.  They
decided to walk back to the hotel, and followed the hundreds of people flowing
back in the direction of the
Ramblas
.  Saturday night in Barcelona was
party night.  Usually young Catalans going clubbing didn’t even venture out
until midnight, but because of the
Mercè
and the wine festival, they
were already out in force.

‘We’re not seriously going back to the hotel are we?  It’s
only ten o’clock,’ wailed Lisa.

‘No, but let’s just head this way and find somewhere to go,’
Gill coaxed her friend.

As the girls turned onto
la Rambla de Santa Mònica
,
they realised the walk was a little further than they had originally thought.

Finally they reached
Liceu
metro and nipped into
Plaça
Reial
to have a coffee.  Fortunately, the majority of the population of
Barcelona didn’t fancy anything as tame as sitting in
Plaça Reial
, on
the Saturday of the
Mercè
.  Although it was still busy,
Plaça Reial
was rarely empty; they found seats and soon relaxed, sipping their
café con
leche
.  They watched the comings and goings for a while, relaxing in the
balmy September evening.  A light breeze had picked up and eventually the girls
declared they’d had enough for one day and prepared to leave.

As they passed under the archway leading out of the
plaça
,
an English voice halted them in their tracks.

‘Excuse me.  Are you ladies going clubbing?’ a man of around
Gill’s age asked them.

‘We weren’t planning to,’ said Gill.

‘Do you know anywhere good to go?’ asked his friend.

‘As you’ve probably guessed, we aren’t locals,’ said Lisa.

‘Oh I could tell that straightaway.  I love the Glasgow
accent.’

Yorkshire.  Clitheroe, Leeds, somewhere like that, Gill
tried to place the accent.

They stood and chatted with the men for ten minutes or so,
alcohol enabling them to speak to complete strangers, with few inhibitions.

‘Right, got to run, boys,’ said Lisa, noting a look from
Debbie, and seeing that Gill was shivering a little.  ‘Nice to meet you.’

‘But we were just getting to know you,’ protested the one
who had initially approached them.

‘Well, weren’t you the lucky ones then,’ Lisa’s cheek knew
no bounds and, impertinent as ever, she leaned in and kissed him full on the lips.

‘Something to remember me by,’ and she danced away to join
her friends.

Sunday 25th September

‘I can’t believe how forward you are sometimes,’ Gill told
Lisa next day.

‘What you talking about?’ Lisa said distractedly.

‘That guy last night.’

‘Oh him!  Just a bit of fun.  Made his night.’

‘Lise, you should have been born a man.’

‘Where would be the fun in that?  Women have the upper
hand.’

Shaking her head at her friend’s attitude, Gill drained the
last of her coffee.  Lisa was dying to go to the beach, but the
Castellers
event was due to start at two o’clock in
Plaça Sant Jaume
.  Four teams
attempting to build the highest human pyramid – a definite must-see of the
festival.

Since cafés tended to open later on Sundays, around eleven,
the girls had opted for a lie-in.  Just as well, as there were even fewer
places open due to the festival.  As the girls strolled along the
Ramblas
,
it struck them how eerily quiet it seemed; all remnants of the party atmosphere
from the night before long gone.  The street cleaners had obviously sprung into
action straightaway, as everything was spotless – typical Catalan efficiency.

The girls had the bright idea of hopping on the metro and
choosing a destination at random, far from the tourist trail.  Arriving at
Jaume
I
metro station, Angela said, ‘What about
Maresme Forum
? Sounds
Roman, ‘forum’?’

The others willingly accepted her suggestion, happy to kill
a few hours exploring another part of the city.  Seven stations later the girls
exited
Maresme Forum
into a relatively unassuming neighbourhood. 
Concrete apartment blocks towered above them.  Gill and Debbie exchanged a
look.  Had they come to possibly the worst part of Barcelona?  Compared to this
place, the
Ramblas
had been a hive of activity.  Gill wondered if it was
like this every Sunday, or if the Catalans were sleeping off their hangovers. 
Who knew until what time they had partied?

After navigating a few streets, they came face to face with
a main road.  Opposite they saw a huge glass hotel, the Barcelona Princess,
and, facing the hotel, an exhibition centre.  On the corner stood a café, which
was thankfully open.  A couple of patrons already sat outside.  Seeing the
girls approach, a waiter fetched some more chairs.  Since the girls hadn’t eaten
breakfast yet, they decided this was as good a place as any and promptly placed
their order.

‘This is nice, although I wish I had a paper to read,’ said
Angela.  ‘It’s the kind of place you imagine coming to read and chill out.’

‘I know what you mean,’ said Debbie, ‘there’s so little
going on.’

Lisa, who had been studying Angela’s map since ordering
breakfast, said, ‘Do you think that’s a beach over there?’ she pointed to a
path beside the Forum exhibition centre.

‘What does the map say?’ Angela asked her.

‘Could be,’ said Debbie, ‘although I’ve lost my bearings
since we came by metro.’

‘Well, if that’s the Barcelona Princess and that’s the
exhibition centre, then yes, I think that is a beach,’ said Lisa who peered at
the map then drained her coffee.  ‘You coming to check it out, Debbie?’

‘Give me ten minutes, so I don’t get indigestion.’  Even the
placid Debbie could get her back up with Lisa sometimes.  Everything always had
to be done yesterday where Lisa was concerned.

Once the pair departed, Gill said, ‘I know I promised myself
I wouldn’t look at my personal e-mails, but I think I’ve been very good so
far.  I have to check them.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Angela, ‘I’ll just read my book for a
bit.’

After five minutes, Angela looked up. Gill had a strange
expression on her face – a mixture of upset and furious.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Not a word from Anton.  Nothing.  I know he’s busy, but I
really thought he might have e-mailed.  Especially after we…’

‘I know, but as you said, he’s busy and he told you he would
be.  He’s back soon, though, isn’t he?’

‘Yes, another week or so.’

‘Well, there you go.  You’ve nothing to worry about,’ Angela
waited until Gill turned to her, ‘Right?’

‘Hmm,’ Gill was unsure.

‘Right?’

‘Yes, I suppose. I’m just disappointed.’

‘I know.  So, anything exciting in your e-mail?’

Dragging herself away from thoughts of Anton, Gill said,
‘Actually yes, you won’t bloody believe this, but that doctor has only gone and
said he isn’t interested in meeting me!’

‘Whaaat?’ Angela couldn’t contain her surprise.  ‘You’re
joking?’

‘I’m not!  Jumped up wee…’ Gill didn’t finish the sentence
as she couldn’t find an expletive terrible enough to describe him.

‘I’m sorry, Gill, but I suppose it happens sometimes. 
Remember, you turned down Ronald and James.’

‘I know, but it’s not the same when it happens to you, and
although I agreed to meet him, I wasn’t really that convinced.  He was too
short for a start.’

‘Yes, it’s his loss.  Move on.  Anyway, have you heard from
sexy Sean, champing at the bit Charlie or gormless Gary?’

Gill reddened.  She’d told Angela of her evening with
Charlie.  She had been very turned on that night, but something hadn’t felt
quite right.  Going to Barcelona had come at the right time – getting away was
exactly what she needed.

‘Gary replied saying it was a surprise, but fairly formal. 
He asked if I could meet him at Central Station and we’ll get a taxi from
there.’

‘Intriguing.  Make sure you text one of us when you know
where you’re going.’

‘I will.  Anyway, I like a guy who puts a bit of thought
into things.’

‘Yep, he definitely gets a brownie point for that.  Anything
else?’

‘No word from Charlie.  Sean has asked if I want to go
bowling with him.  What am I, fifteen?  I mean I know he’s thirty-five and cute
and kisses well, but bowling?’

‘This is about Anton isn’t it?  Why you stopped things going
any further with Charlie and why you’re hesitating with Sean?’

‘I don’t know,’ Gill said slowly,  ‘Maybe.’

‘Maybe you need to think about what you want.’

When Gill remained silent, Angela took the hint and returned
to her book.

Ten minutes later, Debbie and Lisa returned.

‘It is a beach.  Are you ready?’ Lisa resembled an
overexcited puppy.  ‘What have you two been up to, anyway?’

Seeing Gill’s warning glance, Angela said, ‘Just waiting for
you to come back.  OK, let’s go to this beach,’ Angela said.

‘Great!  I’ve got my bikini on under my shorts and a towel
in my bag,’ said Lisa.

Oh here we go
, thought Gill.

The girls wandered down and across a little bridge to the
left of the Forum exhibition centre, which did indeed lead to a beach.  And
that’s where all the young people in Barcelona seemed to be hiding.  Some had
clearly slept on it last night.  How had the noise they were making not reached
them at the café?  Maybe the sound of the sea and the waves carried away their
chatter.  Small children played in the water, splashing each other.  Some older
children played an impromptu game of beach volleyball with their friends and
siblings, as their parents stood watching them, cheering them on.  Occasionally
a dad would jump in for a moment of heroics.

The sun shone high in the cloudless blue sky.  It was around
noon and the strong rays of the sun made the girls sweat a little.  They found
somewhere to sit and Lisa, no preamble, stripped down to her bikini, daring her
friends to do the same.  Gill shook her head.  She didn’t feel body confident
in a bikini and certainly not next to Lisa.  Lisa’s tiny thong and almost
non-existent bikini top drew lots of attention from a group of men close by. 
One woman slapped her husband none-too-playfully on the jaw, seeing him openly
ogling Lisa’s breasts.  It didn’t help that Lisa rubbed sun tan lotion on
herself slowly.  Angela and Gill exchanged a look.  They were used to her.

They’d been sunbathing for about an hour when two men
approached Lisa.  Since she didn’t speak Spanish, chatting with them proved a
bit difficult, but Lisa smiled openly at them.  One spoke to her, whilst the
other smiled at the others and said nothing.  Initially it seemed that Lisa was
quite into the guy chatting her up.  A coquettish little laugh burst from her
every now and then.  Soon her body language changed, her spine stiffened, and
her tone made the girls realise something was wrong.  Lisa poked the man in the
chest angrily.  He held up his palms in an ‘
OK, OK
’ fashion and
signalling to his friend, they left.

‘What was all that about?’ a bemused Gill asked.

‘Those lowlifes just offered me drugs.’

‘Whaaat!’ Debbie’s shout could almost be heard from the
other end of the beach.

‘Seriously?’ said a dubious Angela.  You never knew with
Lisa.

‘Straight up.’

‘I thought one of them was interested in you and that’s why
they had come over.’

‘They were both interested in me, but as a customer.  Bloody
drug dealers!  They offered me hash, which I refused politely but firmly.  Then
they suggested I might like to try some ecstasy or cocaine.  That’s when I lost
it.’

Angela suggested now might be a good time to head back into
the city.  They all agreed.  The cheek of the men had left a bad taste.  Their
sojourn to the beach was over.

They’d expected it to be busy, but this was unbelievable. 
The girls managed to push their way into the square, but that was as close as
they could get.  It proved impossible to reach the front.  Fortunately, given
the nature of human pyramids, they didn’t miss the action.  Four teams pitted
against each other.  Five men at the bottom, then four would climb on them,
then three on them, then two, then a small child would ascend and go right to
the top.  They all had their hearts in their mouths watching the latter.

‘Oh my God, I can’t look,’ said Gill.

‘That child must only be about eight,’ Debbie said,
appalled.

‘They know what they’re doing,’ an unruffled Lisa said.

‘It does look a bit scary,’ Angela admitted.

The crowd held their breath each time a new member of the
team climbed up.  When it came to the children’s turn, all eyes were on them. 
The child in question would scramble up as lithely as a cat.

Everyone applauded each member of the teams, with the
children receiving the warmest applause.  It was difficult for the girls even
to clap their hands, as their elbows tended to dig into the person next to
them.  It proved very cramped indeed.

The ceremony for the winners took place, and then came the
interesting job of emptying the square.  Everyone shuffled forward, a fraction
of an inch at a time.

‘Where are we going?’ Angela hollered over the noise.

‘Don’t know.  Let’s just get out of this square first and
then we can make up our minds,’ Gill replied.

‘Which way now?’ Lisa asked.

‘Well, do you still want to go to Barceloneta beach?’ Gill
asked.

‘No, I think I’ve had enough of the beach.  What else is
there to do?’ Lisa asked, searching their faces expectantly.

‘Well, I quite fancied going to the
El Born
part of
town.  It’s meant to be an ‘eclectic mix of bohemian and trendy cafés, bars and
restaurants,’’ Angela recited from the guidebook.

‘Cool.  Everyone else happy to do that?’ Lisa looked at the
other two.

‘Sure.  Where is it?’ asked Debbie, craning her neck to peer
at the map.

‘It’s not really that far.  We’re already going in that
direction,’ said Angela.

The girls headed off into
El Born
, as Angela explained
that both the
Museu Picasso
and
Museu de la Xocolata
were in this
area.

‘Great,’ said Lisa.  ‘Count me in for the chocolate museum.’

Angela shook her head, ‘We’ll need to come back tomorrow for
that.  It’s only open until three on Sundays and holidays.’

Checking her watch, Lisa said, ‘Hmm, it’s already half past
three.  OK, let’s go and get a drink somewhere then.’

El Born
turned out to be as diverse
as the guidebook said.  They chose a café and sat inside, to escape the
relentless sun.  Even at three thirty, the sun was still very strong and they
were suffering from a little too much exposure.  Debbie thought she had the symptoms
of prickly heat.

The staff couldn’t have been nicer, and it was peaceful
inside, as most people wanted an outside table.  Gill took the opportunity to
fill in Debbie and Lisa on her ‘man situation’.

‘This has been such a great holiday so far, well, apart from
being mugged,’ Gill amended quickly.

‘It has, hasn’t it?’ Debbie said taking her phone out of her
bag, ‘It’s been so good, I keep forgetting to call my family!  Back in five,’
and with that she walked over to the window to try to get a signal.

Giving a deep sigh, Gill continued, ‘I just feel so relaxed.
 OK, I know I answered some e-mails on Friday and Saturday, but that just
helped me keep on top of things and apart from that, I haven’t checked my
e-mail at all.’

‘Apart from this morning to check on your lovers’
movements,’ Angela smiled at her.

‘Well, yes, apart from that.  But, really, apart from the
odd wee lapse, I haven’t even thought about men.  I’ve been having such a good
time here.’  As Gill said this, she realised it wasn’t entirely true as Anton
was never far from her thoughts.  She couldn’t wait to see him when he got
back.

‘We should do this more often,’ Lisa broke in.

‘Yes, but we can’t all afford the time away or indeed the
money, more often,’ Angela’s reply was honest, not sarcastic.

‘I suppose I am lucky from that perspective.  No ties,’ Lisa
mused.

‘I am too, then,’ Gill smiled at Lisa, wondering why that
didn’t always make her feel lucky.