The Spanish Girl by Eugene Vesey

Author:Eugene Vesey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Clink Street Publishing
Published: 2022-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

To his relief, when they arrived at the hotel, waistcoat boy was on the desk, so she had no excuse to chicken out, though she kept a judicious distance from him as they passed. Waistcoat boy merely glanced up and nodded. He’d have to give him a tip before he left, he told himself.

When they entered his room, he went to use the bathroom and when he came back she was sitting on the chair, reading his book, For Whom the Bell Tolls. He was annoyed, but didn’t show it. He pulled the covers down, flopped onto the bed and put his hands under his head with a sigh of relief – they had done a lot of walking.

‘Don’t you want to lie down?’ he asked, patting the bed beside him.

‘I prefer to read,’ she said.

‘That’s my book,’ he joked, though he wasn’t really in the mood for a silly game.

‘Do ju like?’

‘Yes. It’s Hemingway. It’s not Joyce or Lawrence or Fitzgerald. It’s a very particular prism to look at the world through. Very limited in some ways, in both style and substance. Very exterior, man of action, tough guy, macho. Though the hero, Robert Jordan, is supposed to be a university professor, I think. It certainly paints a vivid picture of the Spanish Civil War, what it must have been like during that time, especially to be involved in the fighting. Very good at describing the landscape and terrain too.’ He didn’t really want to talk literature. He didn’t really want to talk at all. They really had done too much talking! But he couldn’t resist adding: ‘The sex scenes are not very good though.’

‘Por qué?’

‘Hemingway isn’t very good at writing about sex,’ he smiled. ‘I think he was limited by his background, as well as the times he wrote in. Though that didn’t stop Joyce or Lawrence. Are you coming here? Or are you going to read For Whom the Bell Tolls?’ How ironic, he thought – Hemingway was one of his favourite writers, partly because he envied the swashbuckling, adventurous, picaresque, romantic life he seemed to have led, and now here he was, having his own Spanish adventure with his own ‘Maria’, but she was hiding behind one of the aforesaid Hemingway’s books, hiding behind Hemingway. Hiding Behind Hemingway – it’d make a good title for a short story …

‘Ju want me to come over there?’ she asked, closing the book and replacing it on the desk.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Come and lie down.’

‘I’m afraid.’ Oh, God!

‘What are you afraid of? I don’t bite!’ Apart from lovebites, he was tempted to joke, but refrained.

‘I’m afraid of getting my skirt creased.’

For a moment he thought she was joking and almost burst out laughing, but realised she was serious.

‘Take it off,’ he suggested, with a hint of impatience.

To his surprise she stood up to do so.

‘Ju mustn’t look,’ she said.

‘OK,’ he laughed, shutting his eyes.

‘Face the wall!’ she ordered.

‘Yes, boss,’ he laughed, doing so.

When he turned back and looked, she was lying face down in her bra and knickers again, like yesterday.

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