She left the kitchen. When she returned there was music coming from another room. He didn’t want to look at her. He could see a bit of her exposed skin.
“What do you think of that?” she asked.
“Eh? What?”
“The music,” she said. “The music! I thought we could all listen to something!”
He tried to listen but no sound could penetrate the metal screeching inside his head.
She shouted something, started wiggling in a sort of dance.
She dragged the other man to his feet, kissed him. Glanced over toward him. She started unbuttoning the other man’s shirt and put his hand on her left breast. Moved in time with the music. Laughed again.
“Elton John!” she yelled. “It’s swinging!”
He suddenly felt sick and at the same time extremely aroused. They were both looking at him. The other man nodded, had his hand inside her blouse.
They took two or three dance steps in front of him.
He stood up.
5
Winter collected his case from the carousel, passed through customs and out to where his hired car was waiting. He took off his jacket and settled behind the wheel. The car had been parked in the shade behind the terminal building. As the plane approached, Málaga had announced itself as gray cliffs climbing skyward from burned earth fifty thousand feet below. A semicircle embracing a calm sea. It was ninety degrees in the shade. The heat was reluctant to release Andalusia from its grip. He’d never been here before.
He felt tired, and his head was pounding. He started the engine. He felt sad, and his emotion seemed to be exaggerated by the heat. As if the heat were an omen.
Winter unfolded the map of the Costa del Sol he’d been given by the car rental firm and checked his route to Marbella. It seemed straightforward. The E15 all the way. The motorway was reputed to be the most dangerous in the world, but he reflected that the media had suggested the same thing for other roads as well, as he reversed out of his parking space.