She’d eaten on the spacious balcony every evening, watching the sun sink down over La Gomera. She’d read that there were dolphins and whales in abundance in the stretch of water between that island and Tenerife, but despite squinting at the sea until her eyes watered, she’d not yet spotted any.
Her days so far had been spent reading and napping by the pool. Significantly more napping had taken place than reading, if she was honest, as she hadn’t realised how totally and utterly exhausted she was until she’d had the time to relax. Looking after a terminally ill loved one then watching them fade away was bound to leave physical and emotional marks, so for the first couple of days she’d been kind to herself and had simply tried to recharge her batteries. It seemed like Aunty Anne had known what she was talking about after all, and Sophie vowed to buy something nice to take back for her.
Today, though, she’d woken with a sense of purpose. Enjoyable and necessary as the past few days of lounging around had been, she now had itchy feet. She didn’t have the funds to hire a car or to go on any organised tours, much to her disappointment, but she did have her legs and there was always the bus service, which appeared to be fairly frequent and quite cheap, so there was nothing stopping her from exploring a little bit of the island if she wished.
Tenerife was considerably larger than she’d first thought and she knew she’d only be able to see a fraction of it, which was a pity because she doubted if she’d visit the place again. But she was determined to see the places she could get to, and so with that in mind she took out her guidebook and studied it while she ate a leisurely breakfast of scrambled eggs on toast washed down with hot, strong coffee.
She could walk to Los Gigantes, she realised, and view those massive cliffs up close. The harbour looked pretty too. Or she could walk along the coastal path to Alcalá, a town to the south of where she was staying. Her guidebook informed her it was worth a visit and the walk should take about forty minutes. She really fancied dawdling along by the sea rather than taking the main road, which she’d have to do for some of the way if she went to Los Gigantes, so she decided on the coastal route.
The beginning of the walk was just down the road from her apartment, she discovered. So she grabbed her little rucksack and filled it with a large bottle of water, a towel, a book and sunscreen, then jammed a hat on her head and shoved her feet into a pair of trainers.
Time to go exploring!
It didn’t take more than five minutes to reach the start of the coastal path (although she had been tempted to stop for a while to admire the gorgeous seafront homes along the way), and then she was strolling along a wide paved path with dark, rough volcanic rocks on the one side and banana plantations on the other. The surf pounded the rocks, sucking and booming, flinging spray into the air which fell back in sparkling rainbows as the sun caught the droplets. The air had an invigorating ocean smell of salt and seaweed, and the gentle breeze fanned her cheeks, warm and soft on the exposed skin of her arms and legs.
She was developing a tan, she noticed. Her pale, almost translucent colouring was turning a gentle golden brown, and the sun had lightened the front of her hair and brought out a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. She hadn’t seen those for such a long time that she’d assumed she’d grown out of them. They made her look more like twelve than thirty-three, she’d giggled to herself when she spied them in the mirror this morning after her shower. The sun used to bring out freckles on her mother’s shoulders and arms too, she recalled.
Before she’d ventured out this morning, she’d smeared herself with factor-thirty sunscreen, aware of how deceptive the Tenerife sun could be. The breeze kept the temperature at a comfortable level, but she’d discovered that it could get really hot in sheltered spots, and she guessed she’d burn if she wasn’t careful.
As she carried on along the path, she knew she’d made the right decision not to spend the day by the pool. There were a few other people on the path, some jogging, some with dogs, and others, like her, out for a walk; but not so many that she felt crowded. The area was quite wild and rugged, with the waves surging against the rocks and hardly any houses in sight, apart from one villa in the middle of nowhere, sitting on a small rocky outcrop with a pebble beach on either side, and what looked like a farmhouse on the edge of a banana field beyond that. In the distance she could see a couple of low-rise houses clustered together, but this path was a far cry from the built-up area her apartment was in. This was peaceful and serene, despite the waves, and she felt the coil of grief inside her unwind a little bit further. Seeing all this rugged beauty, she understood why so many expats lived here. With views like this and gorgeous weather all year round, she would be happy to live here too.
As she drew closer to the villa, she studied it surreptitiously, not wanting the occupants to see her staring and think her rude. It was a lovely little house, though, perched on its low outcrop just above the waves. It was set far enough back not to be inundated during bad weather, but close enough to feel part of the ocean. At least, that’s what she imagined the people who lived in it might feel when they were sitting on the terrace with only a wooden fence separating them from the water below.
I know what would look fantastic instead of the fence, she thought – a toughened glass barrier. She’d seen some on other balconies and terraces as she’d wandered to the shops, and she’d thought at the time that it was a wonderful way of both being secure and making the most of the view.
The villa was painted a faded pale pink, with a terracotta tiled roof and a high wall enclosing the gardens. Tall palm trees waved majestically, their fronds towering over the villa, and the tops of other plants peeped over the wall, interspersed with the exotic orange and red colours of bougainvillea, which draped over the coping stones and tumbled down the sides.
The path meandered right alongside the villa, and Sophie was delighted to discover a pair of large, green-painted wrought-iron gates which allowed her to see up the little paved driveway to the front of the villa itself. Up close it was rather more neglected than she’d thought when she’d first seen it, but it was still delightful.
A wide curving path led to a recessed front door, painted green to match the gates, and there were green shutters on all the windows. Unfortunately they were all closed, so she couldn’t see inside the villa itself, but she did notice a pergola covering a terrace on the south side of the house, which made sense considering it would be facing the sun for most of the day. More bougainvillea grew up and over it, shading the space underneath, and she was convinced she could see the odd bunch of grapes dangling among the flowers. There was an old table and a set of chairs and she thought she could see a couple of loungers, but she wasn’t certain. She might get a better view if she climbed onto the bottom rail, but she already had her nose squashed against the gates, and if anyone saw her they’d be well within their rights to give her a telling off.
Reluctantly, she moved away, still keeping her eye on the sweet little villa. Ooh, look, it had chimneys – two large ones – and she could imagine being snuggled safely inside with a fire in the hearth, on a stormy night with the sea lashing the rocks and the wind howling. Not that she thought Tenerife had many storms, but maybe it got colder towards January and that’s why fireplaces were needed.