ANA was amazed at how quickly the atmosphere had changed. She sensed a tension in Ivan’s body language and looking quickly across at Carole saw that she was sitting rigidly in her chair, with her fingers across her mouth. 
 

“A friend of mine told me that there’s a story going around about a Russian guy, lives in this neck of the woods apparently. Well, it seems not only is he involved with the Russian mafia but has a wife waiting for him back in Kiev, who’s pretty mad that he hasn’t kept his word and brought her over to live here. And….” Sarah paused for effect, looking around the table at the group.  “He is working for the CIA, but the mafia hasn’t cottoned on to this yet. Probably be trouble when they do.”

 

Silence.

 

“Is that the story, Sarah?  Are you done?”  Ivan put his arm around Carole’s shoulder, “Are you implying I am the man in your story? "

She remained silent. “Well, if it’s me you are trying to implicate, well, what a ridiculous story. You all know I have been working for several former Soviet governments, I don’t make a secret of it. Some of them are a bit dodgy, I’ll admit, but the mafia? No. And my very ex-wife in Kiev is not waiting for anything from me, except maybe to promote her pictures in Spain. She’s well-established artist in Ukraine. Is this a new game Sarah, for parties?, Is this who can make up the silliest stories? Shall I have a go now?”

 

Ivan laughed and the rest of the group smiled, albeit weakly. But now Mark Harris, who had been looking decidedly unamused throughout the exchange, got to his feet and took Sarah’s arm.

​

“Darling, we really must be going. It’s been a lovely evening, a perfect way to celebrate a festival. Let’s put our things in the cool bag, shall we, and go?. No need to disturb everyone else. I have to be up early in the morning.”

​

But the damage was done. The joy had gone out of the evening and everyone began gathering up their own things while Holly and Jeff, who had brought the two large table collapsed them in a very efficient way. Years of camping trips with their children, Ana wondered.  
 

What a curious bunch they were. Did they all have secrets from their past? Ana marvelled that only a few hours before she had felt nervous about meeting them, that she might in some way not measure up. Now she couldn’t wait to get Daniel alone in the car so she could find out more about Ivan. Could Sarah’s story be true? Was Ivan a CIA agent? This expat world might be more exciting than she had thought. 
 

As they said goodnight Ana was surprised to see Carole and Sarah in conversation by the Hepworth’s car. Their heads were together and before they parted Sarah put her arms around Carole and gave her a hug. Would she ever understand these people? One minute Carole had looked as if she wanted nothing more than to silence Sarah forever and the next minute the two were embracing. She wondered what was going on and hoped Daniel would enlighten her. 
 

But her curiosity, it seemed, would not be satisfied by Daniel, certainly not that night. As they got in the car and she adjusted the driver’s seat, ready for the drive home, Daniel leant against the car door, closed his eyes and groaned loudly “Oh, Jesus, I think I am going to throw up. Bloody bad wine.”
 

“Maybe you should open the window, cariño, if you are going to vomit.  And I think it was probably the quantity of the wine, rather than its quality, that has made you ill.” 
 

In the end, he didn’t vomit, just moaned from time to time. And so she drove in silence across the valley, annoyed that he was drunk and all the more so because it meant they couldn’t discuss the meaning of Sarah’s words to Ivan. 
 

As the road drew close to the town Ana saw the first of the fireworks light up the sky and realised that the “correfocs” had started, the rather scary,  dangerous play with fireworks that came towards the end of this magic night. She had never felt further away from the celebrations that her family and friends were enjoying, not even when she lived on the other side of the world.  

 

08.30 

Ana was still annoyed with Daniel the following morning and she got out of bed as soon she woke up. It was he who had wanted them to be part of this group of his friends and remembering Mayte’s slight air of disapproval when told of their move, she thought she might telephone her friend later and let off some steam. Mayte would understand.

 

 

In the meantime, her parents were coming for lunch and a meal must be got. Her relationship with her mother was complicated; love certainly, but often a misunderstanding of what each really wanted from the other. They were certainly not in competition about cooking, and Ana had never thought her mother a particularly talented cook, unlike her beloved father who came from Cataluña and was, to her, the more imaginative cook of the two. She could never have said so, not even to him, not even in private, but she knew that he enjoyed the enthusiasm with which she asked him for the recipes of her favourite dishes.

 

Today she would serve Zarzuela de Mariscos a la Catalana, a fish stew and one of the first dishes he had taught her to make. And to make her mother happy they would start with a typical Valencian salad and some very small cocas from the best local bread shop, run by her mother’s cousin,  and finish with an apricot compote and ice-cream that Ana had made herself.

 

Her annoyance with Daniel faded as she began her preparations and by the time Daniel emerged, yawning and saying “Christ, what a bloody awful end to a night” she was able to tell him that they should talk about all that later, the most important thing now was that the meal should be good and that he needed to get out into the garden and pick the vegetables for the salad. 
 

She turned the heat down beneath the basic stew of onions, garlic, peppers and tomatoes when the telephone rang. Thinking it was her mother checking that she had not forgotten anything, Ana answered in Valenciano “Bon dia, Mami, tinc tots” assuring her mother she had remembered everything.

But a voice on the other end said in a very slightly exaggerated drawl 

“Can I speak to Ana, or can I take it that sensational voice, sounding so delightfully foreign,  is in fact you, my dearest Ana? This, by the way, is Sarah Harris, the woman who behaved so appallingly last night that she is probably persona non grata on the entire Costa Blanca by now”.

 

Ana couldn’t help laughing out loud, surprised by how pleased she was to hear Sarah’s voice. “I am quite sure everyone has forgotten most of what anyone said last night”

 

“How diplomatic you are, darling. Anyway, as we never did get to chat together last night and I couldn’t share all those little secrets I hinted at, I thought we might get together, tomorrow maybe, in a nice secluded little café in the port.

 

What do you think?”

 

Ana told Sarah she would love to meet up and that tomorrow would certainly be better for her. She explained that her parents were coming to lunch and she needed to carry on with cooking and suggested they meet up the following morning at a small café which overlooked the fishing harbour. Sarah had, she said, a couple of things to do in the early morning but would definitely be able to meet up at around 11.30.  As she said goodbye Sarah wished Ana and Daniel a happy meal and she said how lucky Ana was to have a close family.
 

Afterwards, Ana remembered that Sarah’s voice had a different note, of sadness maybe, when she had talked of family.