Part 9 (1/2)

'Are you indecent?'

There's a rat-a-tat on the door and Elliot strides in, hair still wet. Dimples dimpling.

I do a quick check that my pyjamas aren't offering an impromptu peep show as he darts for the window.

'Get ready for some California suns.h.i.+ne!' he cheers, unhooking the white plantation shutters.

He laughs at my blinded-by-the-light pose and then does a double-take at the body on the put-me-up bed.

'Oh my G.o.d! Check out Zo's maracas!'

'Elliot!' I exclaim. It's not like him to be so crude. I make a move to redress Zo's modesty but before I can get there he reaches down and picks up two hand-painted maracas, giving the rattling beads a rhythmical swish. 'I meant that literally! Where'd she get these?'

'Mmmmfff,' Zo stirs.

'Zo?' Elliot leans over her.

She squirms away. 'Don't make me eat the worm again!'

Elliot's eyebrows raise.

I make a silent prayer that it's a tequila worm she's referring to and suddenly feel a bit guilty for letting her out of my sight.

'Wow. She's out of it! What time did you lot get to bed?'

'Sasha was about ten,' I begin. She raises a slender arm and flickers her fingers in acknowledgement. 'And I watched Frasier re-runs till midnight.'

'Does your set rise up out of this box here?'

I nod.

'How cool is that?' Elliot grins.

'As for Worm Woman,' I continue with our alibis: 'no idea.'

Elliot looks back down at Zo and frowns. 'What's that black line between her eyebrows?'

Freeing myself from the bed, I scuttle over and gasp. 'It's the Frida Kahlo mon.o.brow!'

'The what?' Elliot laughs, stepping back and stumbling over a giant paper-wrapped roll. 'Where'd all these Mexican blankets come from? Did Helen-'

Suddenly Sasha sits bolt upright in bed as if she's been yanked up in traction. 'She couldn't have!'

I immediately get Sasha's drift and spin around. 'Where's her purse?'

Sasha locates it in one leap. 'Pa.s.sport!'

We all crowd round, scrabbling through the pages and discover the word MEXICO, freshly stamped.

'She must have gone shopping in Tijuana!' Sasha reels.

'I can't believe she left the country while we were sleeping,' I gasp.

'Zo?' Elliot gently shakes her.

She opens one blurry eye. 'Si?'

We chuckle at our somnolent signorita.

'I think we should let her sleep,' Elliot decides, tucking her maracas in beside her like a teddy bear. 'You two coming to breakfast?'

'Can you wait five minutes while I have a shower?' I ask.

'No problem,' he obliges. 'Sasha, you okay? You look a bit queasy.'

'Yeah, I'm not hungry, I think I'll get some air down by the sea and then meet you back here.'

I experience a flicker of concern but decide not to ha.s.sle her.

'Five minutes ...' I repeat but as soon as I step into the marble vastness of the bathroom I realize I've been a little optimistic with my timing it takes five minutes just to reach the shower and when I pull the gla.s.s door shut behind me I discover it seals to create a steam room and it seems criminal to waste such an exotic function. So I don't.

I appear fifteen minutes later with highly flushed cheeks and a rumbly tummy.

Breakfast is served al fresco in a charming courtyard accented with tumbling flowers and manicured men in salmon pink cashmere V-necks.

'I love all the Spanish tile,' I coo as the waiter guides us to our designated table.

'Ever the eye for detail!' Elliot grins.

'Elise!' I startle myself saying her name. For one blissful moment I'd actually forgotten she was on vacation with us.

'Morning, sleepyhead,' she smirks.

I smirk back. Had to get in an 'I was up with the larks' dig, didn't she?

'Where's the rest of your cronies?' she asks.

I take a don't-rise-to-the-bait breath then launch into an overly cheerful, 'Well, Crony One Sasha has gone for a wander. And Crony Two, Zo ...'

I catch Elliot's amused eye and find myself sn.i.g.g.e.ring.

'What's so funny?' Elise snaps.

'You wouldn't believe us if we told you,' Elliot shakes his head and does a little maraca motion with his hands.

I t.i.tter uncontrollably, then hold my knife along my eyebrows, setting Elliot off again.