‘But would they be so difficult if we were in a different location?’ he asked, his blue eyes suddenly and disconcertingly locking on to hers.
‘My father died when I was fourteen,’ she began falteringly. It was still difficult to say those words, to accept them, to comprehend the enormity of them and the way the experience had shaped her.
‘I left home at eighteen and moved away so that I wouldn’t see his face every time I walked past his favourite ironmonger’s shop or garden centre or the pub we used to go to for Sunday lunch sometimes. I thought that by doing that I would lessen the pain.’ She shook her head. ‘But then I felt guilt for running away from the places he loved.’ She studied her nails which had always been disappointingly stubby. ‘There are no easy answers. You have to do what’s right for you.’
He drained his cup.
‘Which is why I always go and have a walk around the ramparts, look at the views, try to gain some perspective. Care to join me?’
She looked at his careworn face and had the urge to stroke his cheek. He’d been through a lot.
‘No, but thank you for the offer. I’m going to take a look at the chapel first.’
She glanced up at the ramparts. They looked pretty high in places and quite narrow.
‘Are you sure you should be going up there when you’ve had a knock on the head?’
‘They’re not as high as they look and there are railings.’
She brushed her hair away from her face.
‘The wind is getting up. I bet it’s blustery up there.’
‘It can be, but I like that. It blows all of your cares away.’
If only it were that simple, she thought.
‘There are fantastic views, too.’
She really had wanted some time on her own, but what sort of a nurse would she be if she let him go up there on his own and then he had a dizzy spell and…? She stood up and pulled her sunglasses down over her eyes so he couldn’t see her reluctance.
‘Okay, you’ve convinced me. Lead the way.’
He was such a gentleman, she thought, when he turned to offer his hand as they climbed some steep and narrow steps. She hesitated. Get a grip, Jules, she said to herself, it’s just a friendly gesture. Nothing more. Besides, it’s more for his security than yours. His palm was completely unlike Gavin’s, which was a relief. It felt slightly rough and his fingers were long and wrapped all the way around her hand. Gavin’s hand had been small and even softer than her own. He’d gone for manicures every month, so his nails were shiny, his cuticles springy. Jules would bet her life on the fact that Lance had never had a manicure.
‘Look at that,’ he said, as they reached the top and he waved his free arm towards the distance. ‘Isn’t that beautiful? This island really gets under your skin. You can see almost all of it in every direction from up here.’
She was acutely aware of her hand still encompassed within his even though there really was no need now, not that there had been before, she thought. Although it was nice to feel that warmth and be physically connected to someone.
‘The castle dates back to Anglo-Saxon times, but the Romans may have been here as well,’ he said. ‘In the thirteenth century it was owned by someone called Countess Isabella de Fortibus who was one of the richest women in England. On her deathbed and as all of her six children had pre-deceased her, she sold the castle to Edward I. I suppose it’s most famous because Charles I was held prisoner here before his execution in 1649, and then much later Princess Beatrice, who was Queen Victoria’s fifth daughter, made it her home. Sorry, I’m probably boring you to tears.’
‘You’re not. It’s fascinating and you’re a good tour guide,’ she replied as they made their way around the top of the walls.
‘Look, there are the girls,’ he said, getting too close to the edge for Jules’s comfort and waving. ‘They haven’t seen us.’
‘They look happy.’
‘At the moment,’ he said with a smile. ‘When you’re fourteen, one minute you’re happy and the next the world feels as if it’s about to end.’
‘And that can just be because your favourite shirt’s in the wash,’ Jules joked.
‘Or your brother’s eaten the last piece of pizza,’ Lance chuckled in reply. ‘Talking of food, we have our picnic right over there in that corner where the cannon is.’
Suddenly he looked down at their clasped hands and gave an embarrassed laugh.
‘Thank you for keeping a hold of me.’
‘I didn’t want you falling off and squashing the flowers on that grassy bank,’ she quipped.
