‘Er, yes,’ he says, a touch over-brightly. Perhaps he hasn’t had time to acclimatise yet.
‘We love it so much,’ I tell him. ‘Me and my son, I mean. At least, he used to. He doesn’t seem so enamoured with it anymore.’ I give James a wry look. ‘Teenagers,’ I add, going on to tell him about the bin, the wasps and the shrouding with one of Minnie’s rank old towels. James laughs in a way that tells me he’s familiar with the life stage. ‘D’you have kids yourself?’ I ask.
‘Yes, just the one. A daughter, Esther. She’s twenty.’
‘Is she here with you?’
‘Nope, it’s just me,’ he replies, sounding brisker now. Then after a pause: ‘Esther was meant to come too but, uh …’ He tails off. ‘There was a last-minute change of plan.’
‘Oh.’ I’m not sure what else to say. ‘I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself anyway,’ I add, not wanting to pry any further as I’m picking up the tension in his expression now. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want a stranger quizzing him about what happened.
‘Yeah, I’m planning to do some walking and cycling,’ he explains. ‘And maybe some kayaking and snorkelling, stuff like that. And canyoning, that sounds like fun—’
‘Active!’ I cut in.
James laughs. ‘Ha. Yeah. Well, there’s a lot to explore here, isn’t there?’
‘Oh yes, so much. I’m sure you won’t be bored for a second.’
At the roadside now, he tells me his hired bicycle is a little further up the hill. ‘Well, it’s been lovely meeting you,’ I say, clipping on Minnie’s lead now. ‘And thanks again. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.’
‘Honestly, I’m happy to have helped.’ As if he’d given me directions to the post office.
I smile, wondering now – despite his obvious competence and the fact that he’s just saved Minnie’s life – if there’s something a bit lost about James. He certainly seems determined to cram his holiday with activities. I just hope he’ll allow himself time to simply enjoy the island and soak it all in; to get to know a little of therealCorsica, in all its thyme-scented wildness. But of course, he can spend his holiday however he likes. ‘How long are you here for?’ I ask.
‘Two weeks,’ he replies.
‘Well, if you’d like me to show you around one day—’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t want to—’
‘No, of course,’ I say quickly. It’s not James who’s feeling a little lost, I realise now. It’s me. Despite knowing the island so well, and having plenty of work to get on with while I’m here, I’m conscious of not quite knowing what to do with myself. Since Charlie’s shunned me I’ve been trying not to follow him round like a sad dog, hoping for a biscuit. ‘Of course, you want to do your own thing,’ I add, ‘with all your activities—’
‘I just meant I wouldn’t want to take up your time,’ James cuts in, looking concerned that he might have offended me.
I almost laugh at this. ‘Honestly, time is something I have plenty of right now.’
‘Really?’ His warm smile crinkles his handsome face and does something terribly attractive to those clear blue eyes. ‘That’d be great then. Thank you. I’d like that very much.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
LAUREN
It turns out that James doesn’t actually know what canyoning is. ‘I saw something about it in the in-flight magazine on the way over,’ he admits as I drive us along the coast road. ‘Something about it being the ultimate thrill for adrenaline seekers.’ He glances at me and laughs.
‘And you thought you’d give it a whirl?’
‘I thought I’d give anything a whirl at that point.’ I know he’s referring to the somewhat less than ideal situation he’d found himself in. He has already told me about his daughter calling to announce that she wouldn’t be joining him on the holiday after all – when he was waiting for her, with panic rising, at the airport. And I thought Charlie had been a bit difficult lately! Our fight over sunscreen seems nothing compared to that. It seems pretty outrageous actually. Honestly, who’d do that to their parent?
Anyway, fortunately for me, James had decided to come on his own – because why not? As he explained, he’d arranged cover at work and the alternative option, to slope off back home and waste the holiday, was toodepressing to contemplate. ‘So,’ as he put it, ‘I kind offellonto the plane.’
‘As far as I know,’ I tell him now, ‘canyoning involves hurling yourself off cliffs and scrambling along riverbeds in a crash helmet with a bunch of strangers.’ I catch his mouth flickering with amusement. ‘Is that your kind of thing?’
He laughs, adjusting his specs and checking out the view. ‘I’m not sure it is, to be honest.’ Whatishis thing, I soon discover, is taking in the beauty of the island with an enthusiasm that’s hugely refreshing after the waspy bin incident and Charlie’s subsequent hibernation in his room.
Two days have passed since James saved Minnie’s life. Yesterday Mum and I had her checked out by the local vet, to be told that there was nothing wrong that could be detected; no obvious heart problems or evidence of a seizure. (‘Perhaps a touch of sunstroke’ was the verdict.) Reassured, we brought Minnie home and I got on with making a creamy fennel and chestnut soup, to eat with some little pastries filled with tangy soft cheese from the market. They smelt so good, even Charlie emerged from his lair to snatch one. At least he’d seemed concerned about Minnie, and had wanted to know what the vet had said. It was just a pity it had taken a near-death experience for him to show a little of his old, sweet self; the boy who’d once greeted me on Mother’s Day with a tray bearing perfectly toasted crumpets, a home-made fruit salad and a tiny vase of flowers from the garden.
‘Makes me sick,’ Kim had joked with just a trace of bitterness, having been ‘served’ incinerated toast.
