‘I hope you don’t mind, dear,’ said an elderly lady sitting in the seat immediately behind. ‘I hate eating on my own, so would you mind if I sat with you?’
‘Of course not. I’d be delighted.’ Although she had sat on her own whenever she’d eaten out, she didn’t particularly like it, and the thought of having a companion at her table, however new the acquaintance, lifted her already buoyant spirits. ‘I’m Sophie.’ She poked her hand through the gap between the two seats, and the woman shook it.
‘Valerie, but everyone calls me Val,’ she offered.
They walked into the restaurant side by side and were shown where to sit. It seemed they were sharing a table with four other people, but she didn’t mind – although she realised that she would have minded a whole lot more without her new friend by her side.
Val took her hand and gave it a squeeze.
‘I’m OK,’ she hastened to reassure the elderly lady, and gave her a smile.
‘That wasn’t for you, dear, it was for me,’ Val said. ‘This is my first holiday without my Jim, and it’s not been easy. I was determined to do it, though. He wouldn’t have wanted me to sit around moping. In fact, he told me as much, more than once. Val, he used to say, there’s plenty of life left in you yet, so don’t waste it. It’s too precious.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry. How long were you married?’
‘Over forty years.’
It was Sophie’s turn to give Val’s hand a squeeze. ‘That’s a long time.’
‘However long it is, you’ll find it’s never long enough. Time is so precious, and it goes so quickly.’ She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. ‘You young ones don’t realise.’
‘I think I do,’ Sophie replied. ‘I lost my mum less than a month ago.’
‘Oh, my dear, I do feel for you. How old was she?’
‘Sixty-one.’
‘That’s far too young. What was it? Cancer?’
Sophie nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
‘And you’re here all by yourself?’ Val asked.
She nodded again.
‘That’s so brave of you.’
Sophie gave her a small smile. ‘Not as brave as you.’
‘I tell you what, let’s be brave together,’ Val said, letting go of her hand and reaching for the carafe of red wine which had been placed on the table. ‘Will red do you, or do you prefer white?’
‘The red will be fine, but only one glass; I don’t drink much,’ she warned.
The warning fell on deaf ears, because by the time they were called back to the bus, Sophie was feeling decidedly squiffy. The three-course meal had been no match for three glasses of wine, and she hoped she wouldn’t fall asleep on the coach and miss the rest of the tour. They were currently on the northern side of the island and would be making their way south to a place called Masca Gorge.
Once again, the coach was heading up into the mountains, and the road was becoming twistier and narrower the higher they climbed. Val was now sitting in the front seat next to her, and every so often she’d reach for Sophie’s hand.
‘Oh, my word!’ the elderly woman exclaimed as the coach appeared to be heading directly for a wall of solid rock, before the road swung abruptly to the left and narrowly missed it. And it wasn’t the first time this had happened – it seemed the only way for such a large vehicle to manoeuvre around a narrow hairpin bend was for it to take up all the available space in the road. Sophie felt sorry for anything coming in the other direction, although it was bound to happen sooner or later, and when it did her heart was in her mouth as the two vehicles inched slowly past one another.
Val, she noticed, kept her eyes screwed shut throughout the whole thing.
‘The driver must be used to it,’ she said to her, but Val, without opening her eyes, shook her head.
‘I don’t care how used to it he is, accidents happen, and have you seen that drop!’
Sophie had, and wished she hadn’t, especially since there was only a low wall of intermittent concrete blocks separating them all from certain death, and—
‘Oh…’ she breathed as she saw where they were headed, and her soul sang at the beauty of it.
Val risked opening one eye. Then she opened the other and sat up straight.
In front of them, perched on the hillside, with houses tumbling down the steep sides in ordered chaos, was a village, half of its buildings appearing to balance precariously on a knife-edge ridge.
But that wasn’t what had taken Sophie’s breath – it was the view. A deep V-shaped valley had been gouged into the mountains, the bottom too far down to be able to see, and the sky was a startling blue in between the peaks of the rugged ridges, with the azure sea in the distance.
‘So that’s Masca Gorge,’ she murmured. Then their guide proceeded to give them some interesting facts and figures, before letting his passengers off for a wander around the village and to take some essential photos.
‘I can’t believe people can actually hike down that,’ Val said, as they reached a lookout point (or mirador, as it was called in Spanish) where the view down the gorge was spectacular and very definitely worthy of a photo or two.
Both of them got out their phones and took turns taking photos of each other.
‘My son thought I’d spend all day lounging by the pool,’ Val said. ‘This’ll show him.’ She nudged Sophie with her elbow and laughed. ‘Especially when I tell him I walked down it. That nice guide of ours says that it’s very popular with walkers, and you can get a speedboat to pick you up from the beach at the end of the gorge that’ll take you to Los Gigantes harbour. Fancy that! If I was a few years younger I’d give it a go, but I’m lucky if I can manage a couple of flights of stairs these days without my knees giving me trouble. You ought to do it, though.’
‘I don’t think so,’ Sophie began, but Val interrupted her.
‘Why not? You’re young and fit, and think of the sights you’d see. I’ve always wanted to have a ride in a speedboat. If you don’t do these things when you’re young enough, healthy enough and have still got all your faculties, then when can you?’
‘Er… right. I might look into it…’
Sophie liked the idea of hiking down the gorge. You could hike up it too, but the up bit didn’t appeal to her half as much as the going down bit, as it would involve considerably more effort and a greater degree of fitness than she possessed, despite Val’s misplaced enthusiasm. But she hadn’t brought the right footwear and neither did she have a set of those walking poles she’d seen people using. Plus, she didn’t want to undertake such a hike on her own, especially since she only had five more days of her holiday left. If she ever came back to Tenerife, she would definitely walk down Masca Gorge, have a celebratory swim from the beach at the end of the valley, then finish off the trip with a ride in a fast boat. For now, though, she’d have to settle for a coffee and a pastry at a little café perched precariously on the side of the gorge where she could admire the spectacular view.
She realised one thing, as she stared out over the steep-sided valley, and that was that Tenerife, with its varied landscapes, friendly people and glorious weather, had most definitely and irrevocably got under her skin.