Page 75 of Hot to Go

‘Did you just say walk or wank?’ she says, smiling. ‘I’m still half asleep.’

‘Walk…’

She finally focuses enough to look me in the eye, cradling my chin, kissing me gently on the forehead. ‘Just so you don’t have to smell my morning breath,’ she tells me. ‘Will this walk involve coffee?’

‘It will.’

‘Then let’s do it.’

‘Eres más feo que una nevera por detrás,’ I say, as we walk along the banks of the Guadalquivir river. ‘Which means you’re uglier than the back of a fridge.’ She bends over laughing, cradling her coffee. ‘You asked me about my favourite Spanish phrase and that is it…I learned it here.’

Having Suzie beside me on the cobbles, making her laugh, being able to hold her hand feels intensely right. It reminds me of our first moments together in Mallorca, but this feels a bitmore like a date rather than the stars pushing us together. This feels like it’s on our terms. She’s also wearing knickers and I have a shirt on which helps settle the mood a little. Suzie wears her hair in a ponytail, teaming it with a short denim skirt, a white camisole top, her red trainers and a light white shirt that she leaves open. If anything, this feels like a date in disguise and I can’t stop from grinning widely, hoping this isn’t putting her off. I bite into one the pastries we picked up on the way here, licking the icing sugar off my lips. The river is still, the palms painting dark silhouettes into the sky. On the other side, the brightly coloured buildings are illuminated by the streetlights. There’s still a warmth to the streets, even without the sun in the sky, and there’s the promise of heat ahead when it comes up. Cars and mopeds speed past us as the city starts to stir slowly.

‘And it was just the one year you were here?’ she asks me.

‘Ten months in the end, they let me finish those last two months in London.’

‘How come?’ she asks.

I pause. ‘It was around the time my parents passed away so I had to go back. Extenuating circumstances.’

She’s quiet, pensive. We’ve not spoken like this before. We’ve dealt in banter and surface talk that hasn’t really been that meaningful I guess. ‘You did explain it briefly once. I am sorry you had to go through that. I will assume it was unexpected?’

‘Car crash,’ I say, not before sipping my coffee to not have to think about it too much. It’s quite hot and scalds my tongue. ‘After that, life took a pretty sharp turn. Sam was only ten at the time so I…’

‘Did a truly amazing thing…’ she tells me. I don’t reply immediately because I hear that phrase a lot. Mainly from relatives, Sam’s teachers at school and Enzo at the Italian on the high street, but the truth of the matter is that I wouldn’t have not done it. And it’s an impossible job to be a sibling and a pseudo-parent. We eat a lot of omelettes and pasta because my cooking still isn’t great and I let them on their phones too much. I have no idea if I’m getting any of it right. ‘Tell me about them, your siblings.’

I veer off the path of the riverbank and get her to cross a road for me, back towards the city. ‘Max is twenty-three. He’s an electrician, he’s very loyal, occasionally a tool but in the best possible way.’ She laughs. ‘Brooke is last year of college and wants to go to university to study psychology, she’s loud and argumentative but a heart of gold. And Sam is big on skateboarding and a really good artist. He’s a kind, soulful kid. I wish he’d wash his hair more.’

She remains quiet, giving me the space to speak, nodding thoughtfully, and I wonder if this is scaring her off, quelling all those flames of desire to hear my life laid out like this. But maybe it’s important she knows everything about me.

‘And Max is the stag?’ she asks me.

‘Yeah, he’s marrying a woman called Amy. I know it’s young to be getting married. Twenty-three. I worry about that sometimes but they’re cute together. She’s good for him. I think it works.’

Again, she’s quiet but continues walking next to me as we enter the gates to a park, the walkways still dimly lit in the twilight. ‘So being a teacher? Was that your decision or…?’ she asks me.

‘It fit in with my degree, my life at home. It turns out I’m not awful at it,’ I reply. ‘What about you? Your family?’

She pauses. ‘It’s just me. No siblings. My mum passed away seven years ago. I never really knew my dad. All I have really are my cousins.’

‘Beth and the famous cousins. I know them,’ I say, trying to show her I’m listening, that I care. ‘I’m very sorry about your mum.’

‘Well, you know what it’s like? To lose a parent, an anchor of sorts. She was a wonderful woman, I miss her a lot.’

I reach over and hold her hand, giving it a light squeeze, my heart swelling to know exactly what she means. I try to read her vibe as we walk; she seems serious, even a little sad as we walk past heavy metal railings and grand white buildings that shine through the twilight. ‘And why teaching?’

‘I had some vague naive notion that I could make a difference. Now I think it just fuels my stationery fetish. I make a mean flashcard,’ she says.

She doesn’t offer more. We cross a final road towards the Parque de María Luisa, dodging scooters and cyclists. Beyond the park gates, a long sandy walkway extends beyond us lined with trees, the sort of dark green tropical plants that always make you feel you’re miles away from England. ‘You do know where we’re going, yeah?’

Literally, yes. I don’t know in the other sense of the word. I nod. ‘This is my favourite place in Seville.’

‘Why?’ she asks.

I smile but I don’t tell her. It’s pretty, for sure, but the truth is my parents came out to visit me while I was here and this is the spot where I took my last photo with them. ‘You’ll see.’

I glance over at her, still sipping her coffee and I can’t read how she’s feeling. We could have been having quiet morning sex in a bunk bed in a hostel; instead I went for the option where I just spilled my guts to her, telling her all about my complicated life journey. I am miles away from that brooding Carlos who swaggered into her life. It’s just me, Charlie. Clutching a bag of pastries, wearing my New Balance that my seventeen-year-old sister brought me because she says my taste in trainers is cheugy.

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