Two Old Fools in Spain Again by Victoria Twead Page A

doorbell. We’d all agreed that it made more sense to watch Emilia at their house. They had all the baby equipment and toys there and our house was not really baby-proof.
    “Come in,” said Roberto, who had little Emilia balanced on his hip.
    We followed him inside and I tried not to stare round the room. It was gorgeous. Everything was either cream or white, including the floors, walls and three-piece suite. A few clever paintings adorned the walls and tasteful ornaments were artfully displayed. The glass dining table and side tables were polished to a dazzle. At the far end was a gleaming kitchen with American-style fridge and stone counters. This was nothing like our cottage.
    “Everything is ready for you,” said Roberto. “We have shut the dogs in the garden, so they will not bother you. Emilia has had her meal and her bath. You can put her in her highchair and give her this yogurt to finish off, if you like. She is already in her sleep-suit, so you will not need to change her. But we have left spare nappies and things here just in case.”
    Federico patted a pile of nappies on the sofa and gestured to the changing mat, lotions and talcum powder we might need.
    “Do you need reminding how to change a nappy?” asked Roberto.
    “Of course not!” said Joe. “We’ve had children too. It’s one of those things you never forget.”
    Little Emilia studied him solemnly with her dark, brown eyes.
    “As I say, I do not think it will be necessary to change her. When she’s had her yogurt, you can just play with her until we get back.”
    Federico indicated the big, white box in the corner, brimming over with toys.
    “If she gets tired and falls asleep,” went on Roberto, “that is okay.”
    “We’ll be fine,” I said. “Go and enjoy yourselves.”
    Now that it was time to go, the pair seemed reluctant to leave. Federico straightened a couple of already straight cushions and Roberto kissed the top of Emilia’s head and finally handed her over to me.
    “There is a bottle of juice on the side, if you think she is thirsty.”
    “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine,” I said again.
    Reluctantly, the Boys left. Emilia’s pudgy hands grabbed the chain round my neck and cooed.
    “You are lovely!” I told her.
    And she was. Her skin was perfect, soft and clear and her hair was a crown of dark golden curls. She smiled and cooed all the time and smelled delicious. I turned to Joe.
    “Do you want to hold her?”
    “Okay.”
    I handed her to Joe and she beamed into his face. He smiled right back at her and I knew everything was going to be all right.
    Unfortunately, it was a Tuesday and my favourite TV program was on. Joe and I had already discussed this and we’d agreed, if he felt comfortable, that I would shoot home and watch my show. It was only on for 45 minutes and I’d be right back. I couldn’t watch it on the Boys’ TV because it was an English show, not on Spanish channels and our video recorder wasn’t working.
    Now it was my turn to be reluctant to leave.
    “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” I said for the third time. “I won’t go if you’re not one hundred percent sure.”
    “Go! Enjoy it. We’ll be fine, won’t we, Emilia?” Emilia smiled back at him. “I’m going to put her in the highchair, give her that yogurt and then we’ll play for a while. You’ll be back by then.”
    “Okay, if you’re really sure...”
    “Go!”
    I left them on the sofa, playing ‘This Little Piggy went to Market’, Emilia’s giggles filling the air. There is no language barrier with babies and it didn’t matter a bit that she didn’t know what a piggy was.
    Three quarters of an hour later, I hurried back and tapped lightly on the door.
    “Come in quick,” said Joe, letting me in. “I’ve had a couple of little problems.”
    He was holding Emilia, who beamed at me.
    “What sort of problems?” I asked, coming in and closing the door behind me.
    “Well, I put her in her highchair and tried to give