1.

He was sure the awkward-looking girl had said the same thing yesterday.

Sipping his drink, he shielded his eyes from the sun, and asked his wife if she'd noticed.

'That girl? Seems to be on her own? Last few days she's been talking to different people around the pool and restaurant. I'm sure she keeps on saying, "And that's why I'm on my own!"

Every time, same conversation with different people, Christ love, she's odd!'

Carol took off her sunglasses, looking over to the 'awkward looking blonde'.

Her husband was prone to exaggerate the characteristics of the poor souls he was fascinated with whilst people-watching.

Making up countless crazy tales whilst she was content to just sit and relax quietly in the sunshine.

OK, the girl in question was a bit strange, hands thrust deep into the pockets of her green gilet body-warmer, zipped up tight despite the Island heat.

Not a trace of a smile as she spoke to the lady wearing a black and white cow print dress.

Dead eyes. Expressionless features. Thick rimmed glasses. Hair held back by an outdated looking Alice band. Typical eccentric Brit abroad. Like a lady in a 70s sitcom.

The way the girl moved was odd too, shoulders hunched, hands seeming to grip something unseen in those pockets.

The girl seemed to glide, not walk, never taking her eyes off the floor, never bumping any of the tables, sunbeds, or chairs, simply gliding around the hotel as though on well-oiled tracks. Very odd!

'Vampire?'

'Too much sun�More robotic – cyborg with a corrupted conversation programme?'

Carol was about to laugh at her husband's people-watching diagnosis, when she heard the girl snort, 'And that's why I'm on my own.'

2.

In the car park of the hotel, Penelope Trubshaw clambered aboard her rusty, almost antique Citro�n H class van.

The faded logo on the sides proclaiming:

Trubshaws

Purveyors of Speciality Meats

Penelope had one motto in life, 'The nicer the feet, the better the meat!'

Never been proven wrong!

She took the razor sharp Wusthof boning knife from her pocket and laid it gently on the passenger seat.

If all went well, she'd be needing it later on.

The lady from Yorkshire, Barbara, seemed to fit her requirements perfectly, lovely toes, even dressed like cattle!

Penelope just needed to get her out of the hotel and into the van.

Then it was just a quick slice and dice, drop off to the restaurant, and she could spend the rest of her week looking after her pet tortoises.

3.

Mateo crossed himself subconsciously as the old Citro�n disappeared round the bend in a cloud of red dust.

He'd always been creeped out by la extraña inglesa, and dealt with her only through necessity.

Delivery made, account settled, half-hearted offer of a coffee or cold drink refused (thankfully she always declined), Mateo allowed himself to relax.

Being in her presence was akin to holding a rattlesnake. Never knew if you'd be bitten, move slowly, no threat, don't alarm or offend, and you may just live through the encounter.

He checked the delivery was safely stacked, ice already beginning to drip pinkly from the heavy wire cage.

Mateo paused to pick a piece of fabric from one of the cuts, shaking his head as he flicked the ragged piece of cow-print cotton into the dirt.

'Vaca!' He spat, wiping his hands on his chef's whites.

She may be an artisan butcher, but the strange English woman had an even stranger sense of humour!

4.

Carol lay on the sunbed, enjoying the heat on her skin, eyes closed, half-listening to the snatches of foreign language conversations around her, the odd splash in the pool, the faint clink of bottles as the bar staff poured drinks.

Speaking of drinks, she thought, as the sun was blocked by her husband standing over her.

'Thanks, love, put it on the table for me?'

The shadow didn't move.

Carol opened her eyes, prepared for one of his daft ice cube pranks, or to catch him taking yet another bloody photo of her!

Instead, the strange girl with the green body-warmer stood over her, hands thrust into her pockets, head cocked to one side as she looked down�.like a�

She searched her mind for the end of that sentence.

The way the girl stared at her was unnerving, almost intimate�nothing sexual, more like�

More like someone in a supermarket? Someone searching the shelves for the juiciest steak?

Despite the heat, a shiver ran through her at the thought, pulling her throw over her as she sat upright. The strange girl didn't move an inch, merely looked down at her legs.

'Pretty feet. Sorry, didn't mean to startle you, just noticed what nice feet you have, lovely toes, I just love that colour on your nails!'

'Erm�.thanks?'

This was getting even weirder!

'Pedicure before we left.' She offered awkwardly.

She tried to smile, but the girl's eyes were uninterested in her face. Foot fetishism?

Then, with an obvious effort, she looked up.

'Sorry, always overstepping! Sorry. Bad habit�.and that's why I'm on my own!'

A snorted laugh, 'You travelling solo, too? Maybe we could grab a drink together, if you want some company?'

Dead eyes looked into her soul.

Something frightened her about the seemingly innocent invitation. Instinct screamed internally for her to get up and run. This seemingly harmless eccentric smacked of predator.

'Drinks as requested, bloody bar was chocker!'

He set the drinks down, nodding hello to the other girl, 'I was just�.'

But the girl had turned on her heel, hands thrust deeper into her gilet, eyes on the ground as she glided away.

'Thank goodness we're off tomorrow, that is one strange bloody character! Asking about my feet�and she did her 'on my own' line! Think I was closer with vampire! Pass me that drink, love, I need one!'

She laughed up at him, but the encounter had really spooked her.

She hoped they wouldn't cross paths with the girl again.

5.

Annike fished in her rucksack, pulling out her sunglasses against the glare that met her outside the Arrivals terminal.

Wheeling her suitcase, she looked for the signs for the bus stops.

The heat hit her like a wall, breathing in the dry air, the smells of dust, diesel, and street food. Nervous excitement at the thought of her first vacation alone.

Turning to her left as she spotted the signs, Annike bumped into another girl, apologised in German, corrected to Spanish, then smiled as the woman spoke to her in English.

'My fault entirely, sorry, but I'm sooo clumsy! Probably why I'm still on my own!'

The girl looked shyly down at the pavement, seemingly noticing the open toe sandals.

'Wow, don't you have pretty feet, love that nail polish, just delicious! Lecker!'

Before Annike could translate the odd compliment, the girl took one hand from her green body-warmer, linking arms with her, and offering.

'If you want to save a few Euros, my van's just around the corner, I'll happily drop you off somewhere, maybe have a bite?"

6.

Unbeknownst to most tourists and holidaymakers on the Islands, there is a highly sought after, highly secretive, artisan industry.

Just a few specialist restaurants offer their wealthy clientele the gastronomy of the most exotic, the ultimate taboo of culinary delights.

For four decades the Trubshaw family has supplied these establishments with the most highly sought-after proteins.

Penelope Trubshaw was the last in her family's line of specialty meat purveyors.

She spent each workday seeking out potential sources, befriending them with her tale of being a lone traveller, harmless and in need of companionship.

Gaining their trust, luring them like cattle to the slaughter.

Penelope truly enjoyed her job, enjoyed the lifestyle, wandering around the islands' airports, bars and hotels, meeting new people, taking in the shows, making brief friendships with the protein, making a killing, living her best life.

'Wurst holiday ever?'

She smiled at the sleeping German in her passenger seat.

'Sorry, bad pun, can't help myself, probably why I'm on my own!'

She snorted a laugh, and turned the Citro�n towards the hills, and her workshop.

FWR

06.11.23 Front Page

Back Issue Page