Laura glanced at her watch, promising herself that she would look one last time and then leave. Chris was probably back at the hotel, talking to some businessman that he had met earlier in the day. She did not believe that he would stand her up on purpose, but she was under no illusions that a dinner-date with her could vie for supremacy in his mind against a business opportunity. Her pale eyes flashed with something that could equally have been irritation or amusement; possibly a little of both. For all his soft smiles and gentle platitudes there were times when she could cheerfully have strangled her errant suitor. Maybe her senses had been right after all, when they had once screamed to her so loudly that Chris Tate was not to be trusted as far as she could throw him - chair included. Perhaps she was barking up an unclimbable tree. But, she thought with a smile, perhaps she didn't care. "Laura!" He looked breathless enough to have been in a hurry, and flushed enough to be apologetic, but for a second she thought that there was something else in his eyes; something that was trying, and failing, to be a glimmer of contrition. "Sorry." "Sorry?" She made a point of staring at her watch. "I said seven o'clock, Chris. It's nearly half-past." "Yeah, I know." He shrugged, smirking up at her with a typically open challenge in his eyes. "I got lost." "Lost." Clearly she didn't believe him, and clearly he didn't care. She sighed. "Okay, fine. Let's just go inside shall we? If you think you can make it through the door without getting lost." He smirked, amused by her comments, but the smile faded as soon as she could no longer see his face. It galled him that he had to be here now, instead of following Kim; but there was nothing more that he could do today. He would have to wait until tomorrow, and the daylight, when he could investigate a little further. In the meantime he might as well spend a pleasant few hours with Laura. She was better company than most, after all. He considered telling her about what he had seen, but decided against it. Nobody had ever listened to him in the past, when he had spoken of his suspicions concerning Kim. Even his father, a man whom Chris held in higher regard than any other person alive or dead, had failed to see her for what she really was. He saw no reason to think that Laura would be any different. She didn't have his history with the woman, after all; and even those who did were not on his side. He remembered Rachel, and the way that she had turned away from him whenever he spoke about Kim. She had even gone so far as to leave him, and file for a divorce, just because he had been determined to find a way to better his step-mother. He had no intention of losing Laura in the same way. "Penny for them?" A waiter had shown them to their table, and Laura was staring at her companion. He jumped, startled by her words. She had been silent since their entry to the restaurant, and it surprised him now to hear the sound of her voice. He frowned. "Beg your pardon?" "I said, 'penny for them'?" Then, as though by way of confirmation. "Your thoughts." "Oh." He managed a smile. "Sorry. Miles away. Business, you know." "I should have guessed." She shook her head, amused. "Didn't anybody ever tell you that all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy?" "Yeah." He grinned, and this time there was real amusement in his eyes. "But that's Jack's look out." He accepted the menu from the waiter and frowned at it, aware that Laura was watching him over the top of her own. "Crazy, isn't it. We come all this way to Spain, and the one thing I could kill for right now is a Chinese takeaway." "Chris." She glared at him, her voice filled with embarrassment beneath the humour. He smirked, then tapped at something halfway down the menu card. "I'll have that." "Make it two." She had no idea what he had ordered, but didn't care. The waiter nodded with a deferential air that was entirely faked, then departed with a grace that suggested he was in a hurry to leave. Chris stared after him. He had never liked waiters a great deal. "So what's on the cards for tomorrow?" Once again Laura's voice cut through his thoughts, and he nearly jumped again. "What?" "Chris are you in this restaurant with me, or are you in some other place?" The annoyance in her tone was real, and he struggled to clear his mind of all thoughts of Kim. It was impossible. He had not been free of her in years, and he doubted that he ever would be; even if, by whatever means, he eventually managed to get her into the prison cell that he was willing, if necessary, to build for her. He smiled. "Sorry. I'm just tired I guess. Maybe I need to take a break." "I've been telling you that for six months." She shook her head, momentarily taking on the appearance of a motherly figure, filled with concern. "Why don't you let me handle the meetings tomorrow? You take a rest. Go for a--" She had nearly said 'walk', and he smiled. She shrugged. "Go for a wander around." "You mean it?" Secretly delighted that his plan had paid off, he feigned concern, but she merely smiled. "Of course. It's no problem." "No, of course not." In point of fact, there was little reason to worry. On the whole, potential business clients could be easily sorted into two groups; the ones that welcomed the pair immediately, and the ones that no amount of cajoling or persuading were going to tempt. The second group were easy to spot, being the ones that registered clear concern from the outset. They were thrown by the appearance of a man in a wheelchair, with a female as an associate. Chris sometimes thought that he should take on a third colleague; somebody openly gay perhaps, just to play upon the prejudices of such people even further. The thought brought his mind around to Zo‘, his sister, and a warm glow spread through him. If he could track down Kim and somehow bring her to trial, or deliver her back to the UK, surely then Zo‘ would change the rather harsh opinion that she had had of him of late. It would also show her, as a pleasant bonus, that he really was the man he had always tried to be. She would finally have to admit that he was a chip off the old block after all; and that was something that he wanted almost as much as he wanted Kim. He wanted to be as successful as his father. Somehow beating Kim, and proving himself to be cleverer than his sister, were all a part of that. It was as clear in his mind as the image of his great nemesis walking along the beach such a short time ago. "Okay." He shrugged, smiling at her as he raised his eyes to greet the returning waiter. "I'll have a look round tomorrow. See what's what." "A holiday." She raised a finger in a warning gesture, telling him not to involve himself in anything even remotely businesslike. He smiled, the smile this time lighting his eyes in a bright, decidedly smug way. Dealing with Kim wasn't business; it hadn't been for a long time. It was pleasure, pure and simple. And his smile grew bigger as he thought about what was to come.

Kim Marchant, previously - and in her own mind still - Kim Tate, sat down in an armchair facing her balcony and heaved a long, relaxed sigh. She was tired. Life had become hard since her escape from Emmerdale, and although she had a good deal of money to help soften the blow, she was still a long way from being the pampered rich girl that she had set out to be. Marrying Frank Tate had been supposed to lead to riches beyond compare, and to open doorways to lifelong indulgence. Instead she now found herself living in a Spanish hotel, under an assumed name, and looking for work. That was something that she had hoped to leave behind her, but it had soon become clear that the money she had brought with her would not last forever. Just to look after her young son, James, was an expensive business. Cold though she was in so many other ways, her son was one thing that she truly cared about. She wanted the best for him, but the best cost money. She toyed with a lead crystal glass, half-filled with hotel brandy - not the best sort, and definitely not what she planned to be drinking for the rest of her life - and saluted the town that lay beyond her window. Out there were countless rich ex-patriots; the myriad British businessmen and former criminals who had retired to a tax-free existence beyond British borders. There had to be something out there for her. She was not above marrying for convenience, and rich husbands were known to die suddenly. It had happened before. There was less style in that than she would have liked, but it was better than nothing. She smiled to herself. She had dreams of one day returning to Emmerdale - fleetingly, naturally, to avoid police detection - with some immensely rich, hopefully famous, and definitely good-looking man on her arm. The taller the better. She imagined her beau staring down at Chris Tate from his vast height, before buying Home Farm with a little loose pocket change and selling it on to a property developer. The buildings would be knocked down, the furniture carted away, and soon there would be nothing left of the Great Tate Dream except for a giant construction site. Maybe they would build a nuclear power station, or a sewage processing plant. Her smile became a smirk, and she drank the rest of her brandy. Suddenly it seemed to taste almost of champagne. "Mrs Robinson?" The voice at the door of her bedroom was heavily accented, but clear. Kim looked up. A woman, white-haired and close to sixty, was peering at her around the doorframe. "Your son is asleep." "Oh?" Kim knew that she sounded distracted, but she managed a polite enough smile. "Thankyou Carla. That'll be all for tonight." "Si." The woman nodded. "I will come back tomorrow? Nine o'clock?" "Yes." Kim rose to her feet, following the older woman to the doorway. "Thankyou. Goodnight." "Goodnight, Mrs Robinson." Carla gave a funny sort of bow, and scuttled away out of the door. Kim watched her go. The little old woman was the closest thing that she had to a friend here, and at times the loneliness was deeply depressing. She missed the company of friends, a night at the pub; but already she was making herself known in the right social circles. It wouldn't be long, she told herself. Soon she and James would have a permanent home, and would no longer be stuck in the hotel rooms they lived in now. She wandered to the window and climbed out onto the balcony. The night was warm and pleasant, the sky open and clear. All was still. A strange feeling of peace enveloped her - a peace that she had not felt for a long time. No matter how relaxing and pleasurable it was, however, she could not shake the feeling that something was about to happen. Such peace as this could only mean one thing. Somewhere, a storm was about to break.