The sound of the engine made it hard to talk, but Grace was quite content to sit and take in the scenery, as the familiar landmarks she saw on her walks punctuated their route. It was strange to see the little white churches with their blue domed roofs from another angle and to realise how tiny they looked from out at sea. They passed the town beach, which was packed, and she strained to try and see if Charlie and Sarah were there, playing with Buster, but they weren’t close enough to make out individual people.
The little coves scattered all along the coastline looked inviting, and as they neared the top of the island, there were fewer and fewer people lying on the sand or swimming.
Grace remembered to look at her phone. They’d been going for twenty minutes. She’d been so absorbed, she hadn’t even noticed.
Will turned back for a moment.
‘Feeling OK? Happy to carry on?’
Grace couldn’t pretend the trip was an ordeal. She did a thumbs-up and watched as Will stood firm at the wheel, making slight movements this way and that. His swim shorts and white T-shirt left plenty of opportunity to watch the muscles in his arms and legs as they worked to keep the boat on course. Grace forced herself to look away. It wasn’t like she was studying for an anatomy exam any time soon.
The boat slowed down once they’d rounded the end of the island, and she could see that Will was heading for a tiny cove almost hidden in the rocks. A few metres from shore he killed the engine.
‘We need to wade in from here. So, shoes off, and then I might need a bit of help pulling the boat onto the sand, please.’
‘Wilco. Over and out.’
Why had she said that? As if she was one of his men on an exercise. But he was lucky he wasn’t with Angeliki or Celine. They wouldn’t be much use hauling a boat around. Not that he’d pick his girlfriends for their brute strength or ability to drag boats to shore. That would be a bit niche.
Once they were settled on the sand, on Will’s trusty lightweight blanket again, he unpacked the picnic.
‘I take it you’re hungry?’
‘Why do you always assume I’m hungry?’
‘Aren’t you?’
He went to put the stuff back into his rucksack.
‘OK, yes. But you make me sound like I’m constantly desperate to stuff something down my gob.’
His smile reached all the way to his eyes.
‘Charming thought. But having known women who don’t appear to let more than a morsel pass their lips, I like the fact you’ve got a healthy appetite.’
Celine’s stick-like arms came into Grace’s mind. It probably was a refreshing change spending time with someone who ate like a horse. She must stop thinking about Celine though. It wasn’t as if she was some sort of rival. Grace had no desire to even be in the contest.
Will pulled out a series of containers.
‘A lot of this is stuff left over from the party. It needs to be eaten up or I’ll have to chuck it out.’
‘And I’m the human dustbin who’s going to do it?’ Grace smiled to let him know she wasn’t serious.
‘Exactly.’
There was a bottle of sauvignon blanc in the bottom of the rucksack, which Will opened and poured her a glass of, before helping himself to water.
‘Are you not having one?’
‘Not when I’m in charge of the boat.’
‘So, you just keep plying me with drink…’ Grace stopped before the words ‘and have your wicked way with me’ even thought about coming out of her mouth or lodging in his mind. She downed the wine instead and concentrated on the horizon.
The sound of a phone buzzing in his rucksack made her look round. Will delved inside and pulled it out.
‘More people thanking me for the party. I’m going to turn the bloody thing off for a while. Enjoy the peace and quiet.’
‘Me too.’
