‘It was a very long time ago,’ he says, trying to make light of a life-changing event that saw him orphaned at thirteen, and from then on brought up by an aunt and uncle who, as he puts it, ‘did as good a job as they could considering that they didn’t have kids, had never wanted them, and didn’t have a clue what to do with me really.’ By that stage his two much older brothers had left home so it was just James in what sounds like a pretty loveless home. ‘But something good came out of it,’ he says. He has already told me about cat-sitting for neighbours, and walking their dogs, and how he was absolutely set on becoming a vet.
‘What did your aunt and uncle think of that?’ I ask.
‘They said I didn’t have the brains,’ he replies.
‘So you were determined to prove them wrong?’
‘Yep.’ He nods. ‘That’s exactly what I set out to do.’
‘So if they’d said, “James, we know you could sailthrough those veterinary exams with flying colours”, then your life might’ve taken a completely different course?’
‘Quite possibly, yeah!’
‘Were they proud of you, though?’
‘I think they were relieved to have me off their hands,’ he says with a smile. Our stories have tumbled out as the end of his holiday approaches, and perhaps those tears I quickly wiped away were partly due to the fact that he’s flying home tomorrow.
After lunch we stroll along the lane that eventually leads to my parents’ house, tucked away at the end of an unmade track up in the hills. We know already that we want to see each other back home, and even though there have just been hand-holds and kisses, something’s building here and – yes, I want to sleep with him. For years now I’ve thought I’m really not that bothered about sex, that I can take or leave it. I’ve even joked to Kim that I’d rather have a lovely glass of dessert wine and a nice pudding.
I couldn’t be less interested in pudding when I let myself imagine being in bed with James. The thought of it makes my whole body tingle.
Stop this!I tell myself. I must banish all thoughts of ravishing the dishy vet because we’ve just arrived at my parents’ house! Dad appears, looking distracted, shakes James’s hand very firmly and says, ‘D’you know anything about extension drives?’
‘Er, I’m sorry, not really,’ James replies. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say,He’s a vet, not a computer expert, but now Dad is making chitchat about the Corsican roads and the various gradients of every hill in the area. Then we’re onto cars: ‘I’ve got a problem with my motor,’ Dad announces. ‘Something to do with the carburettor, I think. Know anything about those?’
‘I’m not sure I do.’ James looks as if he really wisheshe could help, even though carburettors belong to a bygone age, like smoking in cars with all the windows shut, as Dad used to do before Mum forced him to quit.
Having clearly marked this visitor as a double fail – in car mechanics and computer maintenance – he mutters that he must get on, perhaps forgetting thathe saved the life of your dog, Dad!And now something requires his urgent attention in his study. Mum, on the other hand, festoons James with freshly made orange juice and just-baked Florentines studded with pistachios and cherries, while Minnie seems delighted to see him again and rolls on her back for a belly rub.
Predictably, I have to go and fetch Charlie from his room. ‘Could you come out and say hi to James?’ I ask, standing in the doorway.
‘Oh, I’m all right, Mum,’ he says dismissively.
I look at him lying on the bed, engrossed in a book. ‘C’mon, love. He’d like to meet you.’
He peers over at me. I don’t want to haul him outside and make him feel uncomfortable. But it’s only saying hello, for goodness’ sake. James isn’t going to bite his head off. I can’t help feeling exasperated sometimes as shyness can easily come across as aloofness or rudeness. And how will Charlie cope when he’s thrown into situations with all those new people at university next year? It’s not all about learning and studying. There’s the social side too and it terrifies me, frankly, to think of him hiding away in his room in university halls all on his own.
‘I brought James over to meet my family,’ I prompt him, and finally, with a fair amount of sighing – as if I’ve interrupted something terribly important – he mooches out after me, blinking in the afternoon sun.
In the garden James adopts just the right approach, chatting a little about how lovely the island is, and howlucky Charlie is to be able to spend so much time here. I sense my son thawing slightly as he finds himself agreeing. ‘Yeah, it is pretty nice. Glad you’re having a good holiday.’
See, Charlie? It’s really not that difficult!
Making things even easier for everyone, Minnie trots back towards James to be fussed over again. ‘She’s a lovely girl,’ James says.
‘Yeah.’ Charlie nods. ‘Thanks for doing that thing. That thing at the pool when she collapsed …’
‘I’m just glad she’s fine,’ James says. ‘That’s all that matters.’
Charlie musters a smile and endures a little more chitchat before disappearing again. ‘He seems like a great boy,’ James says later when we take Minnie to the pool.
‘Thanks.’ I smile. ‘Y’know, he’s not brilliant with new people. But he likes you, I can tell.’
‘I’m honoured then,’ he says with a grin. We sit on a rock by the pool, exactly where we first met. This time, rather than wading in, Millie just potters around at the water’s edge. She seems cautious after her little adventure almost two weeks ago now. Our time together, which felt as if it would stretch indefinitely, has whipped by in a flash. It’s nearly over now. Perhaps that’s why I want James to know all about me and my past, and why my situation with Charlie’s dad is so very different to what sounds like an amicable set-up with Esther’s mum.
After taking Minnie back home, James and I head out for one last dinner at Camille’s restaurant at the beach. Although his flight home is at 11 a.m., it’s as if there’s an unspoken agreement not to mention it tonight. Meanwhile, this time Camille doesn’t keep flitting over to top up our glasses. She just gives me a knowing smile and leaves us be. It’s as if sheknows.
After we’ve eaten, James asks what I’ve been shooting,and I show him some pictures on my phone. I always take a few on my iPhone before switching to my camera for the ‘proper’ shots, to get a feel for how it’s all looking. We’ve moved from the table now to the squishy old sofa under the raffia canopy, and are sipping one of Camille’s mysterious liqueurs. Edging closer now, I show James my shots of linguine with wild mushrooms, goat’s cheese and sage pastries, and gnocchi with slow-roasted tomatoes and thyme. All the while I’m aware of the closeness of him, next to me.
