...but they knew this would not go down well on the main beach, where families with children were only just packing up for the night, the light going fast as the sun sank behind the hill at the rear. The Germans were aware of the official nudist beach around the headland, a few coves further on, but they much preferred where they were and, anyway, they were slightly dubious about some of the men there, men simply using the nudist bay for cruising. They had moved their party to the coves – taking their music, their beer and remaining bottles of wine with them –and it was pretty certain that after the swimming, and some more alcohol, sex would be on the agenda. They were five men and four women, but that had never been a problem, and no one had been left out this summer when, in two motor caravans, they had travelled along the coast from one beach to another. So far they had generally managed to leave before the local police came around with their mainly polite requests to move on, alerted by telephone calls complaining about the motor homes illegally parking on the beaches (the calls mostly coming, it seemed, from outraged British expatriates).
 
Hans was the first to notice the hair, and he called Manfred over to see whether he agreed there looked to be a body, just visible under the water, trapped between a group of rocks.

“What do you think, Man? It looks like a lady to me, but she certainly isn’t swimming. Don’t think she’s going to be swimming any more, either. I really don’t want to spoil the party, but I think we’re going to have to call the police. Too many people saw us move over here, noticed where we were going. You know how nosy folk can be. It’s better to be the ones to call it in than be accused of something later. Let’s face it, we don’t want the police searching the vans if we can help it. That grass was pretty pricey, and I don’t want some miserable Guardia Civil smoking my stash.” 

Manfred regretfully agreed, knowing that there was no choice. He recalled some of his previous encounters with the Spanish police, and some of the more unpleasant Guardia Civil officers he had met on his many journeys around Spain. 

“Yeah, I think that’s the end of the party – it certainly won’t be fun here once the polizei arrive, and I don’t really think they are going
to tell us to go and party somewhere else, do you? Anyway, seeing her there, floating near us like that, it’s taken all the fun out of the evening. She looks like she was really pretty once, with all that hair.” 

Hans had already taken out his mobile phone, and he punched in ‘112’ with a heavy heart.