Perhaps I was a bit too emphatic about my availability because both of us laugh. ‘No canyoning booked?’ She raises a brow.
‘I haven’t got around to that yet.’ The look we exchangeseems to say,Isn’t this great, that we’re both free?Then we’re hugging goodnight, and there’s a kiss, brief but a proper kiss on the lips – to think I’d almost not got on that plane!Sod it, I’d thought.I don’t want to go now. I’m so not in the frame of mind to spend two weeks in Corsica on my own—
‘Night then, James,’ Lauren says as I climb out of the cab.
‘Night, Lauren. See you tomorrow.’ I’m still a little dazed from the kiss, and a million tiny sparks seem to be shooting around my brain as I stride towards the hotel.
CHAPTER NINE
LAUREN
‘’Course I’ve heard of Esther Burton,’ Charlie retorts. ‘Where d’you think I’ve been, Mum?’
‘I just didn’t think you’d watched … what was it called again?’
‘Willow Vale. I didn’t.’ A shrug. ‘But everyone knows her.’ Well,Ididn’t, but then I hardly recognise anyone on celebrity magazine covers these days. And I’m still amazed that she’s featured on Charlie’s radar at all. Apart from sci-fi movies with Remy, all he’s ever seemed to watch over the years are science programmes and documentaries.
It’s the first time since we arrived here that I’ve managed to have something resembling a proper chat with my son. I’ve wanted to find out if he’s okay about Remy suddenly having a girlfriend and money and hardly being around for him anymore. But when I mentioned it, he just brushed me off. Well, of course he did. A seventeen-year-old boy hardly wants to admit that he has a best friend, let alone one that he misses.
Despite Charlie avoiding me a lot of the time, I’ve also started to feel a little guilty about spending so much timewith James, away from my family. Normally I’m with them all of the time, apart from the odd trip to the beach or the market for ingredients for my food columns. And these past few days I definitely haven’t been around so much.
Since our dinner at Camille’s, James and I have hired scooters and zipped from village to village, loving the sense of freedom and stopping wherever we fancied. We’ve lingered over coffees in the afternoon sun, followed a dirt track to a secluded cove and even gone for a dip together. My parents aren’t swimmers, and it’s been a decade now that Charlie has refused point-blank to venture into the sea. So it was lovely – and something of a novelty – not to swim alone. Then yesterday, still on scooters, James and I headed to the ancient southern town of Bonifacio. Although I’ve been there numerous times, it was almost like seeing it for the very first time, perched dramatically on the cliffs with the caves –les grottes– underneath. We took a boat trip so James could see them up close. Seeing his thrilled reaction reminded me how special this island is, and how lucky I am that my parents live here.
There have also been little affectionate gestures: a brief hand-hold, an arm around the shoulders, a quick kiss goodbye. While I wouldn’t say James is flirtatious exactly, he is attentive and I can sense a mutual attraction fizzling away just beneath the surface. However, there’s also a feeling of taking this slowly, simply because there’s no need to rush. He’s a little shy, certainly, and I think we’re both out of practice with this kind of thing. Anyway, I just want to enjoy it, whatever ‘it’ turns out to be, and not worry about where it’s leading. It’s a lovely thing in itself, uncomplicated and fun. Every time we meet I sense my heart swelling with happiness.
Of course Mum hasn’t minded me not being aroundso much. ‘It’s lovely that you’ve met someone nice,’ she insisted. Meanwhile, Charlie seems to actively prefer me to not be constantly buzzing around him with my enraging bottles of sunscreen. And I doubt if Dad, whose computer is now emitting an ominous whirring noise like a malfunctioning fan heater, has even noticed my absences.
‘So,’ Charlie asks now, ‘what’s she like?’
‘Who, Esther? I really don’t know, love—’
‘He must’ve mentioned her, surely?’
I try not to seem amused by his curiosity. ‘Well, yes, of course he has.’ I pour us glasses of home-made lemonade at the garden table and consider the best way to put it without sounding judgemental – although I’m already forming an opinion of Esther as being extremely self-centred and difficult.
I can’t help it. To suddenly demand that her boyfriend came to Corsica too, and then throw what basically amounted to a gigantic adult tantrum when James said no; it seems outrageous to me. But then, I haven’t actually met the girl, and I’m aware that my own quiet, bookish son might seem odd to people who don’t know him.
‘She sounds quite … strong-willed,’ I explain, tentatively. ‘Bit difficult maybe. Knows her own mind. She only told James she wouldn’t be coming on holiday on the morning of their flight.’
‘Wow.’ Charlie frowns. ‘That’s weird.’
I nod. ‘James was waiting at the airport for her, terrified out of his wits. Obviously he thought something awful had happened …’
‘God, yeah. I can imagine.’ He plucks a fresh lemon slice from his glass and nibbles on it. ‘So, what else?’
‘You mean, what else do I know about her? Nothing really—’
‘Don’t pretend you haven’t googled her, Mum!’
‘Why would I do that?’ I laugh, feigning innocence.
‘Because you just would,’ he teases with a playful glint in his dark eyes. This flicker of humour seems like nothing short of a miracle. A small one, compared to James appearing from nowhere and saving Minnie’s life, but a miracle all the same.
‘I still don’t quite get what she’s all about,’ I admit. ‘ThatWillow Valeshow was a few years ago, wasn’t it? And it seemed like it was pretty niche …’
Charlie nods.
‘… But I keep spotting the phrase “Very Esther Burton” being bandied about. I guess it means effortlessly stylish, a mixture of vintage and new. That seems to be her style …’ I look at my son. ‘Is that right?’
