THE GIRL ON THE STEPS
SHE KNEW SHE WAS GOSSIPED ABOUT
Hola, Señorita!’ ‘Buenas, Señora.’ Emily smiled. As she sat on the white stone steps leading up to a small apartment in the Costa’s busiest area, almost every passer-by, British or Spanish, assumed she was a local. It was her long dark hair and dark eyes that deceived people. And the fact that she was never in typical holidaymaker attire, preferring light clothes that weren’t too revealing.
Emily wasn’t there for a tan. She wasn’t there to get drunk and have rowdy nights out. She was there for one reason alone –to find Jorge. And she had no intention of going anywhere else until she did.
‘Hola, Señorita!’
The guy who worked as a barman in the Hotel Playa Mejor walked by with a cheery wave and a definite twinkle in his eye.
Emily smiled
