The drive down from the monastery to the floor of the main valley involved hairpin after hairpin and it was approaching noon by the time the road levelled out. The April sun was already hot enough for Luke to feel grateful for the cold air from the air conditioning unit blowing in his face. High summer here would be very, very hot indeed.
‘So is it all downhill from here?’ Amy reached for her bottle of water and took a mouthful. ‘I’m not sure my stomach can cope with any more bends for a while!’
‘You and me both. As for downhill, I suppose it’ll be pretty much gently downhill now for a day or two. But then it all gets hilly again as we start going west, into the Rioja region and on through the Montes de Léon.’ He spotted a filling station ahead and pulled over. ‘Not the most modern-looking petrol station. Mind you, at least there’s little shop next door. I’ll see if I can get us something for lunch.’
‘Remember, no beer.’ She was enjoying her role as medical supervisor.
‘Yes, doctor.’
The attendant came to serve them and Luke jumped out into the surprisingly warm noonday sun to ask him to fill the tank. It was probably ten degrees warmer down here than it had been up by the monastery. While the Range Rover was being filled up, Amy called Judie in the UK to tell her of Luke’s recovery. Judie was quick to ask about her feelings towards the man she referred to as her hunky guide.
‘So, you’ve nursed him back to health and, as a result, he’ll love you forever?’
‘Well, one out of two’s not bad.’ Close friends as they were, Amy wasn’t prepared to start speculating over the phone, at least not yet. Resisting the temptation to open up any more, she turned the conversation to the safer topic of their trip, where they were and what they had been doing. However, Judie’s parting words made it clear she wouldn’t be able to dodge the issue for much longer.
‘You look after yourself, Amy and, remember, you can’t keep me in suspense like this for much longer.’
While she was on the phone, Luke bought a chorizo sausage, some Manchego cheese and two enormous bread rolls from the shop. He used a sponge in a bucket to clean the windscreen, the lights and the number plates. The rest of the car remained a muddy brown colour after their days on the snowy roads of the mountains. He paid for the fuel and rejoined her.
‘I think I’ll run us through the next car wash we come to.’ A glance around the bare hillsides in all directions prompted him to add, ‘Though it might be a while before we find one of them.’
‘Pretty remote up here?’
‘A few sheep, the odd crumbling barn and that’s about it. Probably not substantially different from what it looked like in the Middle Ages.’
The valley was wide and the valley floor sloped down so gently it appeared almost flat. As for traffic, there was little or nothing on the road. Luke could easily have put his foot down and sped along. As it was, he chose to take his time, savouring the clear blue sky and the warm sunshine and trying to be as detailed as possible in his descriptions of their surroundings.
Amy listened with interest as he described the spectacular snow-capped chain of the Pyrenees behind them. ‘It’s like a great white-topped wall. It’s exceptionally clear today, after the recent snow. You can see for miles in all directions.’ He did his best to convey the sense of sweeping vastness that Spain always aroused in him. The dusty fields without hedges to divide them stretched out as far as the eye could see.
Amy enjoyed listening to his voice and in spite of her resolve, found herself wondering how she would feel, and what she would do, when this wonderful journey finally finished. Back to the huge, elegant, but empty house in London? Somewhere else? She still had the house in the Alps, although she knew she would need all her strength before she could go back there to confront the ghosts and the memories. Maybe if Luke came with her. There, she had said it. She wanted his support. Even though she hadn’t been prepared to admit it to Judie, there could be no doubt in her mind how close she was getting to him. The big unknown, of course, remained the question of how he felt about her?
They arrived in Sangüesa at six o’clock that evening. It had been a fascinating, if tiring, day. On their way down the valley from the mountains onto the plains they had visited everything worth seeing, from the castle of Javier to the stunning Monasterio de Leyre, set high up on the hillside at the end of a viciously winding road – and for two people with a special interest in medieval history, that had easily filled the day.
When they finally got there, Luke booked two rooms at the Hostal Santiago. Unsurprisingly, almost every town along the Pilgrims’ Way had a Hotel Santiago or a Hotel Compostela. This one was very simple, but it was clean and the man on the reception desk very friendly. And it was slap bang in the medieval centre of this historic town. Luke accompanied Amy to her room and gave her the usual tour.
‘Not the height of luxury, but quite comfortable. And definitely a lot more comfortable than the pilgrims’ hospice where our man would have stayed.’
‘You mean I don’t need to sleep on the floor and share a hole in the ground as a toilet with a couple of hundred people?’ She was smiling at him.
‘Not unless you want to.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘What do you feel like doing?’
‘I’m determined to wash some underwear before I run out completely. Give me an hour or so.’
‘I’ll go and take a look round town. I’ll come back for you at, say, eight thirty.’
Outside the hotel Luke turned right and walked down the long, narrow Rúa Mayor until he reached the crossroads at the end by the river. There, dominating the scene, was the Collegiate Church of Santa Maria la Real, its sandstone walls glowing in the rosy light of the setting sun. After pausing to stare in silent appreciation at the wonderful medieval figures carved around the portal, he entered the church.
The church was empty, silent except for the cooing of doves high up on or, more probably, in the roof. The altar was a simple affair surmounted by a delicate statue of Our Lady of Rocamadour, showing the close links all these different stages on the Pilgrims’ Way had with the lands north of the Pyrenees. He had told Amy he wasn’t religious and he wasn’t. He found it impossible to study the crimes committed by the medieval church, let alone the atrocities still being committed by Man all over the world today and still retain a belief in a kind, merciful god. But he did appreciate the atmosphere of peace and tranquillity to be found in many churches, and this one was no exception.
He sat down on a pew in silent contemplation for many minutes, thinking back upon all his troubles, his depression and despair. These past few weeks with Amy had been the brightest point in his recent past and he knew he was growing ever closer to her, whether or not he should be. Her presence had cheered him and helped him, and his life would never be the same again as a result. Maybe, just maybe, he was finally on the way out of the abyss in which he had been stuck for so long. After quite some time alone with his thoughts, he stood up. There was something he had to do. He turned and made his way out of the church.
Outside, the sky was still and clear, the sun just dipping below the horizon. Luke sat down on a stone bench in the main square, pulled out his phone and dialled. Father Tim answered straight away.
‘Hi, Luke, great to hear from you. Where are you and how’s everything going?’
‘Hi, Tim. We’re in Sangüesa, not far from Pamplona and I’ve got a bone to pick with you.’ His tone belied his words.
‘With me? What’ve I done?’
‘You know full well. When you put me and Amy together, it wasn’t just so we could talk about history, was it?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Father Tim wasn’t a very good liar. ‘So, does this mean you two are getting on well?’ His tone betrayed more than a casual interest.
Luke told him the truth. ‘We’re getting on very well, just like you knew we would. She’s a lovely, bright girl and I feel I’m getting closer and closer to her. And it’s all your fault.’
‘I’m delighted to hear it.’ It was clear from his voice that Tim meant what he said. ‘So where do you go from here?’ Luke knew he wasn’t talking about their route, but he chose to interpret it as that.
‘We start going west now, through Burgos and Leon, towards Santiago. Depending on what stops we make, I reckon we should be there in a couple of weeks.’
‘And what then, Luke?’
‘That’s what I’m trying to work out.’
Luke went on to tell Tim that he was feeling better than he had in years and the reason for this was, without question, his proximity to Amy. They chatted for some minutes and when the call ended, Luke definitely felt brighter, more cheerful and reassured. He slipped the phone back into his pocket and stood up.
All around, people were finishing their day’s work. The bars were already starting to fill, as men and women met to talk about the day and relax. He thought about stopping off for a beer, but a glance at his watch made him realise that he had left Amy alone long enough. He headed back to the hotel.
He knocked a couple of times, but she wasn’t in her room. Coming back down the stairs, he met the proprietor.
‘Señor Patterson, I have a message for you.’ The man smiled broadly and pointed back up the road. ‘Your friend thought you might be in one of the bars, so my daughter is walking with her down the Rúa Mayor to look for you.’
He was a kindly looking man fighting, like so many restaurateurs, against the steady and inevitable expansion of his waistline. He proudly sported a moustache worthy of a Mexican bandit. He proceeded to curl it up almost to his eyebrows as he gave Luke a conspiratorial grin.
‘My wife is also often checking up on me too. It is their way.’ This observation was accompanied by an expansive wave of the hand that conjured up generations of wives checking on their husbands, and the husbands in turn telling other men, who would in their turn be checked up on by their wives, and so on throughout an eternal cycle.
‘She’s not my wife.’ Before he could stop himself, Luke added, ‘Yet.’
‘But she will be.’ The hotelier was quite sure of his prediction. ‘And she is already starting to check up on you now.’ He chuckled and spread his arms wide once more. ‘It is their way.’ With a bow he returned to his kitchen, leaving Luke still stunned that he had chosen to use the word yet.
He found them almost immediately. They were sitting in a renovated bar halfway along the street, just before the medieval square. Amy was sipping a glass of cava. Beside her, the hotel owner’s daughter, who was about twelve, was demolishing a huge multi-coloured ice cream, topped with whipped cream and adorned with a pink parasol. Luke squeezed past a group of young men by the door and made his way down to their table. As he materialised alongside them, he laid his hand on Amy’s shoulder and she looked up with a happy smile.
‘Hi, there. Good walk?’
‘It’s a lovely little town. How’s the ice cream?’
‘Lourdes here says it’s great, but tells me the ice cream at her father’s restaurant is even better.’ In halting but comprehensible Spanish, she repeated her remark. The girl giggled into her sundae.
‘What about you? Ready for that beer?’
He studied her reflectively. She looked lively, contented and relaxed. In particular he was struck by the happiness in her face, especially when he compared it to the bleak loneliness of her expression when they had first met. He realised that the sense of optimism he had felt in the church was here to stay, and he came close to reaching out and hugging her but, as ever, he resisted the temptation.
‘Definitely a big beer. I’m feeling very good this evening.’ There was no doubt at all. Compared to his mood over the past few years, he was indeed a happy man. ‘I really am. I haven’t been so happy for longer than I can remember and being here with you is what’s doing it.’
The waiter passed and asked briefly if they needed anything. Quick as a flash Amy caught his attention and ordered confidently.
‘Una cerveza mas, mas grande.’
It must have done the trick. Shortly afterwards, Luke found himself on the receiving end of a huge German-style litre mug of beer. Goodness only knew how it had ended up here. Amy reached out and felt the dimensions of the glass for herself before murmuring an appreciative grunt. The little girl watched goggle-eyed as Luke lifted the mug to his lips, and looked disappointed that he didn’t drain it in one mouthful. The sundae now demolished, she dedicated herself methodically to the assorted nuts and olives that arrived with the beer. Luke wondered absently how these would lie with the ice cream and whipped cream in her stomach. Wisely, he decided that this was up to her to discover for herself.
‘Anyway, talking of happiness, you’re looking radiant and cheerful tonight. I was just thinking how different you look and sound compared to the first time I met you.’
‘If I look it, that’s because I am. I couldn’t ask to be anywhere better than this. The atmosphere’s good, the wine’s good and the company’s very good. And I’m not just talking about Lourdes here.’
He would have reached over and taken her hand, but again he resisted the urge. Instead, he looked at his watch. ‘What do you say we head back for dinner? If for no other reason than to stop this young lady from exploding. The consequences in this crowded room could be catastrophic.’
Amy giggled and asked whether he had finished his beer. He hadn’t, but he did so in record time, gaining an admiring look from the little girl as he did so.
The restaurant in the hotel was about half full by the time they got back. Lourdes disappeared into the kitchen, only to emerge seconds later with a huge plate of meat and potatoes that she set about with the same gusto she had shown earlier. Luke and Amy sat at a table in the corner of the utilitarian dining room and he described the other occupants of the room to her.
‘They look like mostly commercial travellers, with one or two locals thrown in. There’s a family celebration of some sort on one long table in the centre of the room. Six or seven adults are surrounded by about twenty children.’
‘My ears had already worked that out.’
The restaurant owner came over to their table, bearing a bottle of cava. He opened it with a flourish and placed it on their table, giving them both a big smile.
‘My daughter’s thanks for the ice cream and my good wishes for your future together.’ He made the announcement grandly and swirled off into the kitchen once more.
‘Are you blushing too?’ she asked timidly.
‘I do believe I am,’ he answered. ‘I wouldn’t want you to think that I’d given him the wrong idea about us.’ She could even hear him blushing now.
‘Wrong idea?’ she asked innocently. Luckily at that moment food started to arrive and he sounded relieved to revert to his usual tour guide mode.
‘Black olives looking lovely and fat, probably still with stones in them, so watch your teeth. The bread’s in a basket bang in front of you.’
He reached over and poured some of the wine into their glasses. As he did so, two huge plates of mixed salad arrived.
‘Green salad, red salad, two or three other types of crinkly stuff, some sort of dandelion-leaf-shaped, some normal, onion rings, a boiled egg and a load of tinned tuna.’ Amy couldn’t help smiling.
‘I must give you a guide to salads one of these days. Crinkly stuff, indeed!’
He laughed back at her, the spell broken. ‘Sorry, I’m afraid I’m not getting any better. I’m good at dates, though, and popes. I can recite them backwards from now to the early Middle Ages.’ He would have launched into a demonstration, but her finger reached out, found his face and sealed his lips.
‘I’ll remember that next time I order a plateful of popes.’
They ate in silence for a while before he picked up the conversation again. ‘I’ve been thinking seriously about a lecturing position.’
‘I would imagine you’d be a real hit with the female students if you choose that career path.’ He choked on his tuna and she was able to go on unopposed. ‘With your background and qualifications, I am sure you could get yourself a lectureship without too much trouble.’
He drained the glass of water, glad the tuna hadn’t gone down the wrong way. ‘I already have an offer.’
This was news to her. ‘I didn’t know. That’s terrific. Where?’
‘Boston.’
She took the news expressionlessly. ‘You’re not referring to the one in Lincolnshire, I imagine?’ He grunted. ‘Starting when?’
‘Start of the next semester, if that’s the path I choose to follow.’ He resumed his assault upon the salad.
She slowly digested what he had told her.
Of course life had to go on; his and hers. Wonderful as this interlude was, she could hardly expect it to last forever. It would end. It had to. And when it did, there was every chance they would each resume their individual, normal lives. In spite of herself, she felt a chill run through her. What was normal life? Would she really return to the empty house and resume her dull, dry and sensible existence, wanting for nothing that money could buy? But all the time she knew she would be longing desperately for laughter and, yes, for love.
‘Aren’t you going to finish your salad?’ His voice cut in on her thoughts. She shook her head. ‘When we get home I promise I’ll take lessons in identifying different types of lettuce. Honestly.’ His hand reached across and gave her hand a quick squeeze. She looked up and smiled.
‘And desserts.’ He waited while a young waitress cleared their plates before continuing.
‘And cheeses. Anyway, I said I’d had an offer. I haven’t accepted it yet. Besides, Land Rover reckon these diesel engines are good for hundreds of thousands of miles. We could always go on from Santiago to Rome and from there to Jerusalem. Maybe then we could try Mecca, although they wouldn’t let us in. From there it’s only a short step to Amritsar then Lhasa. Come to think of it, we could carry on round till we reach Graceland. Let’s not forget the modern day pilgrimages.’
She laughed in spite of herself, knowing all too well that she would miss the fun of being with him.
‘You make me laugh.’ She banished the future and tried hard to concentrate on the present. She dearly wanted to save the moment in her memory forever. ‘Save to disk…’ she murmured, and then made the whirring sound of the computer doing its work.
‘Hard disk?’ he enquired gently, continuing her train of thought.
‘CD-ROM, of course. Read-Only Memory. Can’t delete it, can’t change it. Keep it in a little plastic case and trot it out whenever I want to. The ultimate computer game. Virtual Reality.’ The words were light, the tone wasn’t.
‘Virtual?’
‘That’s not up to me.’