Five short years. Five years nearly gone, and I was still desperate to stay in beautiful Spain. The thought of leaving was devastating but a deal was a deal. If Joe wanted to return to England, then I’d promised to agree.

I couldn’t bear to bring up the subject. I couldn’t bear to think of selling our house, giving the chickens away and turning our backs on the village and our friends for ever. It was Joe who finally brought the subject up.

“Five years is almost up,” he said. “I think we should go on holiday.”

“But we’re on holiday every day already!” I kept my voice lighter than I felt.

“Vicky, we always said this was a Five Year Plan. I want to go somewhere totally different, somewhere neutral. Not England, not Spain. I want to enjoy a holiday away from everything and think about the future.”

So there was still hope. I knew Joe wasn’t exactly unhappy, but how much did he want to go back to England? Was I being selfish wanting him to stay? Just how much did he miss the National Health, English food, English friends and the familiar English way of life?

“Okay, that’s a good idea. Where do you fancy going?”

“I want to go somewhere exotic. Are we still members of that home exchange site?”

“Yep, is that what you’d like to do? Swap houses again?”

“Why not? This house is finished now. And I think we should go for quite a long time - perhaps a couple of months. Then I’ll have time to think, and decide if we should go back to Britain.”

HomeExchange.com was a fabulous site. We’d discovered it in England a few years before. We’d posted up our details, then had the pleasure of having people from all over the world contact us wanting to exchange homes for a holiday. That time, we’d agreed to swap with a retired American couple.

In return, Chuck and Barb stayed in our modest suburban house, drove our little jeep and went sightseeing in Sussex. We felt it was an uneven swap but they assured us they were delighted.

“We sure enjoyed visiting your castles,” Barb had drawled. “And we went to see where your Battle of Hastings took place. Britain sure does have a whole lot of history.”

“And your cute jeep was awful good fun!” said Chuck. “He raised his silver eyebrows and paused, “Have to say we found your roundabouts a bit testing, though.”

This time we had a quirky house in a tiny, remote mountain village to offer. Would anyone want to sample Spanish village life? We needn’t have worried. As before, plenty of people contacted us, but it was Ken and Glennys’ email that stood out...

Paco and Carmen-Bethina were totally bewildered by the concept.

“¡Madre mia!” said Carmen-Bethina. “And you have never met these people? How do you know they will not ruin your house? They could steal everything!”

“We’ve been writing to each other for ages. We’ve seen their photos, we know about their two grown-up children, Rob and Amy. They don’t seem like strangers.”

“Pah!” said Paco, setting the wine bottle down with a thump. “What is wrong with El Hoyo? El Hoyo is the best place in the world! Carmen and I have never been out of Andalucía…” he leaned forward, eyes bulging, “…and we don’t want to!”

“¡Claro!” Carmen-Bethina nodded her head in agreement.

After a frenzy of lists and preparation, the day came to collect Ken and Glennys from the airport. I recognised them easily from the photographs; it was like meeting old friends. We managed to squeeze their luggage into the jeep and set off back to the village. We had 24 hours together before they would take us back to the airport to catch a plane to Australia.

There was a lot to show and tell. We had just enough time to point out the quirks of the house and car, and introduce the chickens. Then Joe and I were in the sky, looking down on Andalucía, heading to Australia. From now on, the only contact we’d have with our Spanish life was via email...

Chapter 30

House Swap

The next chapter describes Vicky and Joe’s exchange and poor Glennys’s mishap in the village...