Once BITTEN
It isn’t uncommon to see a familiar face in an unfamiliar setting. It happened to me as I stepped off a ferry onto the island of Paxos and bumped into a neighbour. And once, when waiting at Villahermosa to board a bus for Palenque, I was joined by an old school friend. But I never expected to meet my ex-husband’s second wife, since I knew they had emigrated to New Zealand.
It was a miserable winter and I d had a nasty bout of bronchitis.
‘You need a rest,’ my daughter Emily said. ‘Go some place the sun can be relied upon to shine.’
‘But what about the business?’ I asked.
‘The business,’ she said, ‘can take care of itself for a couple of weeks.’
I’m a designer. What started out as a small cottage industry, a way of earning a living while looking after my daughter, had eventually taken off beyond my wildest imaginings. Pottery and accessories bearing my floral designs can now be purchased in upmarket outlets. And this is due in no small part to Emily’s acumen.
I might have been the prime mover, but it was Emily who dealt with the business side of things.
Now we have a stable of competent employees and, though I’d always been
She had lured my husband away from me
-on, was no earthly reason prevent me from taking some time off.
I remembered a charming little hotel in Aix-en-Provence where Paul and I had once spent a holiday. I remembered an avenue of chestnut trees and striped umbrellas on a terrace, the scent of roses and the sound of birdsong, and an overwhelming sense of peace.
Enough water had gone under the bridge since that visit for any pangs of nostalgia to have faded, so I booked it.
It was relatively early in the season and there weren’t many guests, which suited me perfectly.
I had a supply of books, the hotel possessed a swimming pool and everything was within walking distance.
I began to feel relaxed and restored. It was on the first evening of the second week that I witnessed an altercation at the reception desk. A woman of around my own age was protesting, in a mixture of English
