"It's really amazing how quickly I can feel at home. Already almost one of the natives – partaking in their quaint rituals: siestas in the afternoon, a little vino with our 10 p.m. comida." The hotel's patio overlooking the Mediterranean was his stage. The poor couple across from us, his captive and unsuspecting audience.
Peter and Janet had been there a day, and they were still shaking the last remnants of jetlag here in their tourists' paradise. She knew they had only seen the real Spain as a slide show, scenes changing with the click-clacking of the train from Barcelona. But, Janet would remain quiet. Truth would spoil her self-important boyfriend's needs. The point of the story was always the same: Revel in the glory, the splendour that is Peter. She was free to withdraw and decided to engage in her favourite activity: people watching. As long as she was physically there, he wouldn't miss her.
Janet's gaze had fixed on a sturdy Labrador, bounding around his owner, when Peter's fingers pressed her arm. Her signal to perform, to be "the girlfriend" - to nod, to titter, to agree. She was well trained, Peter's little pet. He would never suspect the boiling jealousy she felt as the dog flashed by, red leash streaming behind, like a flag of freedom. As always, her china doll smile was perfect.
