Summer Dreams

[James Twining]

Just back from a mini-break in (of all places) Marbella. I say mini-break because, according to the wife, it doesn't become a holiday until you are away for more than 5 nights - I wish I'd understood this subtlety when I booked it, as apparently this means we still need to go away again on a "proper" family vacation! More money...

Anyway, technically speaking we weren't in Marbella, but down the road in Puerto Banus where a friend of ours lives. Strange place. The harbour is encrusted with million dollar yachts and the quayside embroidered with Bentleys and air-conditioned designer stores. And yet walk a few streets in, and you find strip bars and souvenir shops jostling for position with "genuine" Irish pubs serving all-day breakfasts. As the sun sets, the streets swarm with baying packs of pink-skinned adolescents playing drinking games and urinating in doorways. Later, as the moon rises, the girls swoop down, skirts hitched and tops pulled down low; teeth bared, they sniff out their prey according to their key fobs - the more expensive your motor, the better your chances.

There's money here, but all of it's new and in your face - the biggest decision one of my friend's neighbors faced every day was whether to drive his black Hummer, yellow Lamborghini Gallardo or red Ferrari 360. The men wear diamond encrusted gold Bulgari watches and Hackett polo shirts, their prison tattoos lost in the matted hair of their tanned forearms. The women are teak coloured with Barbie blonde hair, three grand handbags flung casually over their shoulders, their boobs as plastic as the food in the photos that adorn the menus of the harbour-front restaurants.

Given this, I had slightly mixed feelings about the local taste in books, as the local English language bookshop had copies of The Black Sun in their Bestseller section. Given my previous rant about not being stocked abroad (see Batteries not Included), I could hardly complain, although I did slightly question if this was what Bruce (my editor) had in mind when he referred to my "target demographic". Perhaps there was another factor at play - after all, over 80% of the global supply of 500 Euro notes are apparently to be found along the coast of Southern Spain. Why? Money laundering; lots of it. Maybe I have a growing fan base amidst the Costa de Crime’s criminal fraternity!

Anyway, the best part of the holiday / mini-break was that for the first time ever, I saw someone reading The Black Sun! Friends have told me they've seen people reading my books before, but I've never actually seen anyone myself. The fact that they were on a beach, sipping a Mojito, made it even better. You see I always read thrillers when away, and I took the decision to start writing whilst on a beach in Bora Bora on honeymoon. So seeing someone lying on a sun lounger, engrossed, gave me a real sense of having closed the circle; of achievement.

However, having learnt my lesson from the time when I accosted someone at Gatwick who was leafing through The Double Eagle and excitedly announcing that I was the author (he immediately returned it to the shelf and backed away fearfully), this time I didn't say anything and just walked on with a smile. Besides, it was getting late, and I wanted to get to O'Grady's for a “full English” before they stopped serving!