Page 2 of Sun, Sea and Spotted Squid

Eventually the taxi stopped outside a nondescript bar with a couple of people smoking on the street. The sign appeared to be half-hanging off the wall and the rusty yellowy-white furniture in front had seen better days.

“We’re here,” the taxi driver cheerfully announced.

“We are?” Sam echoed, his heart sinking. “Damn.”

He rustled in his bag to retrieve the letter from the aquarium to check the address. Theywerehere. Perhaps it would be better inside. The letter said to use the door to the left of the bar.

Standing in the street, Sam stared up at the grimy windows. The smokers outside the bar watched him with interest. Putting on the best confident face in his repertoire, he picked up his spectacularly heavy suitcase and made his way through the door and up a filthy staircase that greeted him.

By the time he’d reached the top, he held on to the wall to catch his breath. Perhaps squeezing every item of clothing he owned into the suitcase hadn’t been the best idea. But Sam liked choices.

He’d agonised over his arrival outfit. First impressions counted after all. In the end he’d settled on jeans and a navy polo shirt. Tight to show off his slim waist. He caught a glimpse of himself in the cracked mirror at the top of the stairs. His carefully styled dark blond hair had gone fuzzy. Other than that, he didn’t look too bad.

A stunningly beautiful girl appeared out of one of the doors. With piercing blue eyes and white-blonde hair, she exuded sex.

“Hola,” she said, staring him up and down.

“Hi, I’m Sam Davis.”

“Ah, typical Brit. Doesn’t know the language and expects us all to know his.”

Sam wasn’t enjoying the smirk on her lips.

“Hola. Encantando de conocerte. SoySam Davis.”

She had the decency to give an embarrassed laugh. “Silly me. I shouldn’t judge a book by the cover, should I? I’m Astrid Ström.”

They stood staring at each other for a second before she must’ve realised she’d barred his way.

“Come in,” she said.

Sam followed her down the corridor. To his horror, his feet were sticking to a carpet which clearly hadn’t seen a decent vacuum cleaner in decades.

A door on his left lay open. Inside, another girl busied herself hanging up clothes.

“Maria. This is Sam,” Astrid called.

Maria stopped dragging items out of her suitcase long enough to give him a wave. They carried on to the end of the passage, which had three more doors. Before Sam had a chance to ask about the winding staircase which must lead to another floor, Astrid pointed to the door on the left which had a poster of a rock band called Satan’s Flesh peeling off it.

“That’s Genevieve and Paul’s room. They’re in there doing things that couples do.”

She giggled.

The overwhelming smell of old fried food had started to make his eyes water. He couldn’t tell if it came from one of their rooms or from downstairs.

Astrid appeared to be taking charge of everyone. How had they managed to form a tight group already? Sam hated being the last to arrive anywhere. He would much rather be the first and let things build around him.

Astrid pushed open the middle door to reveal the smallest kitchen Sam had ever seen. A gas cooker covered in stains and a tiny larder fridge suggested he would probably be eating out a lot of the summer. The stench had doubled in here. He trieddesperately not to turn his nose up but he had not expected this. When he’d read he would be living in the old-town area of Valencia, he’d visualised high ceilings and a pretty balcony to watch the world go by.

Behind the final door, she showed him a matching tiny bathroom.

“I’ve given it a good clean,” she said, peering at him.

Maybe I’m not hiding my feelings very well.

“Thank you,” he said.

That meant his room must be up the steep stairs.