Two Old Fools in Spain Again Read Free

his neck were two puncture wounds, side by side, perhaps an inch apart.
    “What is it?” he asked. “Mosquito bites?”
    “No, there aren’t any lumps, just two holes...”
    “Well, what are they like?”
    “I know this sounds silly, but if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’ve been bitten by a vampire.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous!”
    “I’m just saying that’s what it looks like.”
    “Here, hand me that antiseptic cream. Vampires indeed!”
    “Well, something’s bitten you, that’s for sure. Perhaps we should sleep with a crucifix in the bedroom in future.”
    “Very funny.”
    “Or pop into the church and get some holy water?”
    “Enough!”
    He applied the cream, which seemed to have a soothing effect as he stopped complaining after a while. We sat in the kitchen, deciding what jobs to tackle that day.
    “The dishwasher is working now,” said Joe, sipping his coffee. “And the Internet’s back. I checked on our boxes’ progress, by the way. According to UPS tracking, they’re still in Bahrain.”
    “Not even left the country yet?”
    “Nope. I think I’ll give the chicken area a good cleaning out today, then we can go and get some new hens next week,” he said, changing the subject.
    “Good idea. Poor Regalo must be lonely. I’m still on mould and fungus duty today, I think.”
    I looked round the kitchen. So much to do! Everything needed cleaning and airing. Cobwebs needed removing. A lick of white paint wouldn’t go amiss. Deep in thought, I was only distracted when I heard a faint buzzing noise. Mosquitoes during the day? Surely not! The buzzing grew louder and I concentrated on the sound.
    “Joe, can you hear buzzing?”
    Joe creased his brow, listening.
    “Yes, I think I can...”
    Now it was unmistakable, louder, more insistent. If it was a mosquito, it would have been the size of a goose.
    “It sounds like a giant bee...”
    We swung our heads this way and that, trying to locate the source of the maddening buzz.
    “It’s coming from the dishwasher!”
    A monster bee trapped in the dishwasher? Joe jumped up and reached out to open it. Before he could pull the door open, we heard a fizzle, followed by a blue flash and a CRACK! The unmistakable smell of burning reached our noses and black smoke seeped from under the counter and round the sides of the dishwasher.
    “Quick! Pull the whole thing out!” I shouted.
    As Joe gripped the sides of the appliance and heaved it out, we could already see flames lapping up the wall. They flared from the electrical socket, lighting up the dark area. He snatched up the nearest available items: the apron I had won at one of El Hoyo’s fiestas, then a new tea-towel with ‘Welcome to Bahrain’ splashed across it and finally my favourite cardigan. He smothered the flames and the crisis was averted.
    “What on earth caused that?” I asked after we’d fanned the smoke outside and muted the smoke alarm.
    Joe shook his head. “It wasn’t me, I promise. I just fiddled with the controls, I didn’t touch the plug or the socket.”
    “That was scary! What if we’d been asleep? Or out?”
    “I agree, I’m going to check every socket in the house. The chicken coop will have to wait.”
    I was just adding ‘more smoke alarms’ and ‘fire extinguisher’ to my shopping list, under ‘bleach’ and ‘chickens’, when somebody hammered on our front door.
    “English!”
    It could only be Paco.
    “Joe, let Paco in, will you?”
    “English!” said Paco, crashing in. “I have brought you vegetables.”
    He dumped the heavy crate on the kitchen table and I crossed off ‘vegetables’ from my shopping list. Red, yellow and green shiny peppers vied with deep purple aubergines and prickly, fat, green, cucumbers. Enough to feed the Barcelona football team. I thanked him.
    “I cannot stay,” said Paco, as Joe reached for the brandy bottle. “We are going down the mountain for a few days.” He stopped, sniffing the air. “What is that smell