'Wow. According to some Spanish website, someone has been arrested from the Valladolid bullring, just near where we are supposed to be staying. They're claiming it's regarding this supposed serial killer,' Eloise said, sat next to Henry in his private jet as the club members waited for the plane to take off.
'They surely can't imagine they've already found the serial killer,' Henry said, irritated. He seemed stressed today, Eloise thought.
'Apparently, the investigation isn't over – they just say he helped the killer. All corridas have been cancelled there for the next two weeks. Probably so they can plant evidence,' Eloise replied, rolling her eyes. Even worse, it was supposed to rain on their third day, which, if severe enough, would spoil the hunting excursion they had planned.
Wasn't Spain supposed to be suffering from a drought?
Clearly not a very bad one.
'I hope they refund our tickets, that being the case,' Henry sniffed, before adding reassuringly, 'Ah. It's Spain, plenty of bullrings we can attend without an interfering police presence.'
Eloise nodded, half listening as she composed a series of tweets. One said, 'I'm being silenced and persecuted by the deep state – freedom of speech anyone? I won't resign!!'
Another said, 'My grandparents would be ashamed by what this country's become. Britain fought a war for freedom, only to surrender to Covid tyranny! #VaccineGate'
'There's no serial killer. The left are looking for excuses to ban it,' she muttered once she'd finished tweeting. The video she'd seen on Facebook earlier had been very persuasive.
'What makes you say that?' Henry appeared a little flustered.
'Well, for a start, Spain's new policing minister is a vegetarian,' Eloise said.
'I see. I have to say, I believe there is a serial killer, but the police are rather making a meal of it,' Henry said, an odd expression on his face.
But today, Eloise's mind was not on Soros, the Rothschilds, the World Economic Forum or the Great Reset. A more immediate preoccupation was bothering her, one which threatened to spoil her entire visit.
Eloise was always thrilled to follow her passion; touring the prestigious bull farms, possibly even having a go herself with a young calf. She'd tried years ago on an intensive course in Mexico, and always wanted to do it again. But she could not stop thinking about Javier, wondering what, if anything, she had done wrong. Her comments were spoken in a moment of weakness, but since they were reported, he'd been avoiding her. He had been stressed recently. Perhaps his mind was on his next encounter with el toro. But another, worse possibility was unsettling her thoughts.
Maybe he was patching things up with Maria.
She leaned back in her seat as they prepared for take off, checking her messages again. Nothing.
She bit her lip and tried not to cry, trying, but failing, to resist the temptation to text Javier again. He had made her feel so special. He could have any woman he wanted and he chose her. Surely he wasn't going to stay with his wife after all this?
As the plane took off and began to soar through the clouds, she took out a copy of La Salida, and flicked through it to cheer herself up. But so many of the gory photographs within its pages were of Javier Castella. On one knee in the sand, waiting for his next victim. Prancing around with a pair of banderillas. Standing with his sword, looking determined. She wanted to cry.
She'd been nothing but patient. What had she done wrong?
Did he find her embarrassing?
She put the magazine aside. Henry had taken out a packet of luxury cigars a friend had given him at Madrid's San Isidro Festival.
'No health and safety mandarins here to wag their fingers. These are the same brand smoked by Papa Hemingway himself,' he scoffed as he lit up. Indeed, the packet, custom made with the warnings removed, had a black and white picture of Ernest, with one hanging out of his mouth.
'May I?' she said, feeling a frisson of excitement at smoking on a plane. Few were so daring in today's times. How dare Big Pharma tell her what to do with her health? Only she had the right to make those decisions.
'I'll make an exception for my general dislike of women smoking, and there is something elegant about a woman smoking a cigar,' Henry said, handing her one. What a gentleman! Eloise placed it in her mouth as he handed her his antique lighter. The only problem was, she didn't like him that way.
She only wanted Javier.
Thinking about him was driving her insane. Why was he ghosting her like this? Her last two messages had been delivered, but he hadn't read them and it kept showing him as online!
It wasn't fair at all.
*
Sitting in the stands at Salamanca with the Taurine Club the following day, Eloise leaned forward to get the best view, trying to focus on the spectacle in the arena, rather than the one surrounding her. Last night, the aficionados had sat in an expensive restaurant opposite Valladolid's now closed plaza de toros – where some spiteful tourist had taken pictures and sent them to a tabloid. The restaurant was a dream target for an enraged animal lover, with bullfighting posters littering the walls, and a huge bull's head overhanging the table.
'Disgraced anti-vaxxer MP takes bull by horns on cruel corrida holiday – with YOUR money' said the headline, illustrated with a picture of Eloise, a syringe marked 'COVID-19' and a worried looking cow. Henry wasn't in the photo; he was only mentioned once in the article, whose fire was directed solely at her. The media only ever seemed to go after her – they'd been like this when she wouldn't wear a face nappy.
This was just like fascism – in fact, it was worse.
When their immune systems were ruined, and hers was healthy and intact, maybe they'd think twice about calling her 'disgraced'.
Feeling twitchy, Eloise gazed at the opening procession of the matadors and their assistants, trying to put her worries out of her mind. Javier was only on at the end; the feared rain hadn't materialised.
'This bull should have gone to Javier Castella a few weeks ago, now Rosario is taking him,' Lord Owenstoft said, smiling, as the unfortunate creature entered the arena. She caught a glimpse of Javier talking to another matador and felt as if she'd been stabbed. Usually so prompt, he hadn't replied to her texts.
He hadn't even looked at her.
She watched the first bull, looked at the way it ran. It kept looking for an exit. At least someone was about to have an even worse day than she was. She didn't feel a moment's pity – after all, this was what it was bred for. It was hot and the Spanish weather took a bit of adjustment for the already preoccupied Eloise. Every few seconds, she looked away from the drama, checking her phone to see if Javier had replied.
20 minutes in, after killing the bull with a perfectly placed sword-thrust, Rosario bowed deeply to the crowd. Some of them threw flowers at him. Lord Owenstoft smiled. 'What a wonderful performance!'
'Yes! Magnificent!' Eloise had only half been watching, hooked on waiting for a text from Javier, a message receipt, anything – and what people were saying about her on the internet. The journalist who had reported her comments had since been reported missing – obviously emotionally unstable. The media hired anyone these days for their fake news.
'Personally, I found it rather boring. The bull was something of a mediocrity,' Henry said.
Then it was the turn of the next victim, a bull transferred here from Valladolid after Pepelito escaped. This one was a bit more energetic. It actually did what it was supposed to. Rosario did look sexy in his costume. As Eloise craned her neck to get a better look she almost – almost – forgot about Javier.
This was such a beautiful art, Eloise thought, better than football or anything like that. Watching Rosario's exquisite taurine ballet reminded Eloise why she'd become hooked as a 15-year-old, during that exchange trip to the South of France with her 8K a term private school. Recently, she'd started getting angry emails from know-it-all doctors, saying her education was wasted. Why couldn't they shut their mouths if they couldn't be kind? She'd got to government. They hadn't, so whose education was wasted again?
In his flawless, inimitable style, Rosario used his sword masterfully on the second bull. How wonderful, Eloise thought! While it was dragged away, she got up and went to get herself an ice cream, feeling a bit more able to enjoy the afternoon's entertainment. There weren't many people in the queue. Supposedly, many Spanish people hated bullfighting.
They were missing out.
She sat back down as the third bull entered the ring, with a different matador she didn't know the name of. This one was annoying her with its constant mooing. As Eloise began enjoying her ice cream, her phone vibrated. She'd forgotten the pink bullring cushion she always took to corridas back at Henry's villa. Her back hurt from sitting on the plane too long. The uncomfortable stone benches were giving her backache. She took out her phone, half watching as the bull was stabbed with a spear.
The message was from Javier.
But it was in Spanish.
It was clearly not meant for her.
It said, 'Hola Lola como estas? 😘 sí, me encantaría verte esta noche después de que termine mi corrida. Te tengo una sorpresa 😉 Besos, Javier. ❤️'
It took all Eloise's effort not to smash her phone on the concrete step and run out of the bullring in tears. She swallowed hard, wiping her eyes with the white handkerchief the spectators used when someone had killed the bull particularly wonderfully and deserved to be awarded one or both its ears, maybe even its tail if his performance was truly exceptional.
The fourth bull entered; she hardly noticed. Before anyone could assume she felt sorry for it, she looked down, her tearful eyes glued to her phone.
'Looks like this one might try and escape. Always exciting,' one of the other club members sneered, a horse trainer who worked on the Grand National. Eloise's lip trembled. She wished someone would ask if she was OK. Didn't they care?
'Entertaining, yes, but we don't want another Pepelito,' Henry laughed tersely.
Then it was Javier's turn.
Eloise couldn't bear to look at him. But she couldn't tear herself away. Maybe the message she'd received was some terrible misunderstanding. He stared straight at her as he waited for the fifth bull to come out and she thought she saw him smile. Her heart raced – and then she turned round and saw the good-looking pair of young women sitting a few rows above.
It was all too much. She picked up her stuff. Henry gave her a concerned glance as she walked towards the exit, the hot sun beating down on her back.
Maybe she'd be better off with him.
As Eloise walked to her waiting taxi, clutching her key in her fist, her sadness dissipated. Rage filled her deep inside, consumed her, burned her up. How dare that little Spanish shit treat her like this? How dare he act like she was nothing? They'd had such a great time. She'd thought he was in love with her. He'd told her as much.
The whole time, it had been a lie.
Javier wouldn't get away with this. The whole world would know what a cheat he was. Like so many men, he was a liar and a bastard. He had promised her the world – and broken her heart. And now he wouldn't even look at her. How dare he hurt her like that?
She was going to make him pay.
If she couldn't have him, why should anyone else?
AN: I have recently re edited this scene and it turned out slightly longer unlike the others which I managed to cut. I hope the new version works :)