The Mini Break Read Free

that any ill-advised manoeuvres command pity rather than anger.
    She caves under pressure. ‘So do we normally, Sophie’s just being polite. I’ll do it,’ she shrugs, taking the key from him.
    He smiles and doesn’t move.
    ‘Bye then,’ she says.
    He hesitates. ‘Okay, I’ll leave you to it then. Have a fabulous day. I’m going to check in with you again tomorrow morning but please don’t hesitate to give me a ring in
the meantime if there’s anything else I can do. Oh, and I’m going to try to sort out some spa passes for you if that appeals?’
    ‘Brilliant,’ I reply, and for a split second I allow myself the fantasy that he’s holding my gaze a little too long.
    As he starts walking away, I turn to Anisha. ‘So what do we do now?’
    ‘Go and sunbathe on our balcony for a couple of hours – nobody will know we’re not on the course if we’re locked away there. Then we spend the rest of the day by the
pool.’
    I nod. ‘Sounds good.’
    When James is out of sight, we start walking back in the direction of the hotel. ‘Hang on,’ I say.
    ‘What?’
    ‘What if someone realises our buggy hasn’t moved and tells James? We’ll be busted. There’s a valet hovering around over there – he said hello to him.’
    ‘Oh . . . shit.’ She looks around. ‘Okay, I’ve got a plan,’ she says, striding to the golf buggy. ‘Hop in.’
    I frown. ‘Do you know how to drive one of these things?’
    ‘It’s not a Lamborghini. There’s a key and two pedals – go and stop. I think even I can manage that.’
    I lug my golf bag into the back and sit down next to her. I’d have to admit it looks innocuous enough, like a little fair-ground ride. She turns the key and it emits a low hum.
    ‘We need to find somewhere to park this thing and hide it for a couple of hours,’ she says.
    ‘Just don’t go anywhere near where James went.’
    She flashes me another
I’m-not-an-imbecile
look and puts her foot on the pedal – when it becomes clear it’s not as foolproof as she’d assumed.
    She hopelessly underestimates its horsepower, sending us flying off like we’re on Space Mountain. She then removes her foot, bringing us to a violent stop. This is followed by another
attempt to get going – again, way too fast.
    We trundle along the road in this stop-start fashion for the next minute or so while passers-by appear quite taken by the unintentional hilarity.
    ‘This is like a bloody circus,’ I tell her, lowering my hat over my face.
    ‘It’s harder than it looks,’ she says hysterically, as a BMW turns the corner in front of us and slams on its breaks, narrowly avoiding a collision.
    ‘Bugger! This must be a one-way street,’ Anisha shrieks, scanning her eyes round the buggy. ‘Where’s reverse?’
    ‘I don’t bloody know!’
    The BMW beeps again. ‘What are you going to do?’
    She gets out and glares at the driver, hand on hip. ‘Now look here . . .’
    I grab her by the arm and drag her back in. ‘Don’t have a buggy-rage incident – we’re trying to keep a low profile.’
    The owner of the BMW gets out and marches towards us. He’s in his fifties with a large, round belly and a scowl on his face that’d make a Bullmastiff look Botoxed. Then he pauses and
takes a good look at both of us. There is an immediate volte-face in his demeanour. ‘
Hola
.’
    ‘So sorry about that,’ Anisha smiles sweetly. He looks like he’s forgotten already and instead launches into a one-way conversation in Spanish that, even allowing for my poor
grasp of languages, sounds very much as if he’s hitting on my friend.
    Anisha glances at me for help.
    ‘
Gracias
,’ I tell him, nodding and hoping this will encourage him to leave. It doesn’t.
    ‘WE NEED TO GO NOW,’ I mouth loudly, pointing at his BMW. ‘DO YOU THINK YOU COULD MOVE YOUR CAR? WE WILL DO A THREE-POINT TURN.’
    He grins and looks at Anisha’s chest.
    ‘CAN YOU MOVE YOUR CAR?’ Anisha tries again, at which point he slides his