‘As you wish.’ Jacob gave a solemn nod and a short, sharp salute. ‘Where shall we dine?’
Olivia began to tread the familiar path around the back of the studio and away from the beach.
‘You like pancakes?’
Jacob followed closely behind. ‘Are you for real? Obviously I like pancakes.’
‘Good, then come with me. I know just the place.’
*
The whole morning had felt like a dream. Even as Jacob sat opposite her, stuffing forkfuls of food into his mouth, breathing, laughing, talking, she’d still had to pinch herself. It didn’t feel real. None of it felt real. Not even when Jacobdropped her home and hugged her so tight she felt her ribs push against each other. Not even when he promised to be back in three hours to collect her for an afternoon adventure. It was as though Olivia were existing in a mild state of delirium. So much so that, when she woke from her nap, she was certain she’d made the whole thing up, only to realize that she had about ten minutes until Jacob arrived. Ten minutes to get ready for something she had no idea how to prepare for. In true Jacob style, he had kept his cards close to his chest, waving off her questions with vagueness and changes in conversation. Olivia had been too full of sugar and too giddy at the time to push it, but now, as she sat cluelessly trying to plan what she needed, she felt frustrated with herself.
After much deliberation, she decided to adopt a rudimentary and rather unsophisticated approach; if in doubt, pack everything. She now had six minutes remaining, and she wanted to at least run a comb through her hair before he turned up.
‘Towel, yes … bikini, yes … sun cream, 100 per cent yes …’ She flung items on top of each other, trying not to dwell on the idea of Jacob seeing her in a bikini, the thought alone igniting equal parts excitement and nausea inside her.
‘OK, right … snacks.’ She grabbed a few granola bars and an unopened packet of Oreos. ‘Change of clothes, sunglasses, book, portable phone charger …’
Olivia scanned the room and found her eyes settling on a small green plastic box on the dresser.
She opened the lid and peered inside. Bandages, antiseptic wipes and pain relief were all packed neatly in their little compartments alongside safety pins, scissors and some plastic gloves. Growing up, it had become second nature to bringmedical supplies on any venture outside the house; with Leah around, you couldn’t afford to take chances. Except – the thought was sharp and piercing – she wasn’t with Leah any more. And she never would be.
Olivia swallowed down the ball of grief that had formed in her throat, hastily grabbing some plasters and paracetamol from the box and shoving them into her rucksack. She was about to run to the bathroom and attempt to perform some sort of miracle work on her face, when a shrill laugh and a deafening rumble stopped her in her tracks.
She ran over to the door and pulled the curtain aside.
‘What the hell …’
The two women, Patricia and Tania, who Olivia had only ever seen horizontal in their deckchairs outside their little cabin, were now very much upright standing on their porch, clapping and cheering.
‘You got room on that bike for me, sweetheart?’ the taller of the two rasped, twiddling a piece of frazzled blonde hair through her fingers.
‘I bet you could show me what a good ride looks like, couldn’t you?’ the other barked gleefully.
Olivia followed the direction of their gaze and felt her stomach drop to the floor.
‘Oh God, no!’ she squealed.
There was Jacob, grinning from ear to ear, sitting astride one very large and very loud motorbike.
‘This has to be ajoke?’ she screeched, opening the door and storming over to him.
‘Hello to you too.’
‘You can’t be serious, Jacob.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because… look at that thing!’ Olivia pointed at thegrowling hunk of metal and fumes. ‘There is no way I am getting on that motorbike.’
‘If you won’t, darling, then I will!’ The short, barrel-shaped woman chuckled. ‘You don’t know how lucky you are, pet! Not every day you get the chance to have something likethatbetween your legs.’
The pair of women collapsed into raucous laughter.
‘Technicallyit’s not a motorbike,’ Jacob remarked, ‘it’s a moped. Smaller, and far less dangerous.’
‘It looks just as lethal and terrifying to me.’
