‘I’m okay,’ I reply, pushing up onto my feet unassisted and feeling a small, strange stab of regret when his hand returns to his side.
We stagger down the hill and peel away from each other at the bottom.
When I get back from the loo, I find Charlie standing at the foot of my bed insideHermie.He’s staring at April.
‘I can’t bear to move her,’ he whispers.
‘Don’t, then,’ I whisper back gently. ‘She can stay with me tonight.’
‘No...’ He frowns, shaking his head.
‘Would you miss her?’
‘It’s not that. I just... I couldn’t.’
‘Don’t you trust me?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘She’d be all right with me, wouldn’t she? You could come back early if you wanted to. Or have a lie-in, if you like. I’ll bring her to you in the morning.’ We’re both still whispering.
He thinks about it, but then he shakes his head again, his mind apparently made up.
‘Stay in the tent, then,’ I suggest quickly. ‘Or’ – I come up with another idea – ‘you sleep with her andI’llstay in the tent!’
He looks at me and grins. ‘I’ll stay in the tent,’ he decides. ‘If you’re sure.’
‘I’m sure. Yay!’ I exclaim in a whisper. ‘Sleepover!’ I’m a bit tipsy.
He chuckles and wraps his arm around my shoulders like he did earlier on the beach, giving me a quick squeeze.
‘You call that a hug?’ I surprise myself by saying.
He grins at me sideways. ‘You after the full seven seconds?’
‘Yes.’ I jolt. ‘I mean,no.No. That wouldn’t be appropriate. Not now you’re staying over.’
He raises one eyebrow. ‘You think it’s a bad idea for me to take you into my big strong arms?’
I giggle quietly. ‘I’m not going to start fancying you, if that’s what you mean. It’s not that you’re not fanciable, because you definitely are. ButIdon’t fancy you.’
‘Good, I feel the same way about you.’
‘What?’ I pretend to be put out. ‘Why don’t you fancy me? I’ve got a boyfriend – what’s your excuse?’
‘Er, you’re my late wife’s ghostwriter? That would be too creepy.’
I laugh. ‘You’re right. It’s good that you don’t fancy me.’
‘I definitely don’t.’
‘All right, stop going on about it! I’ll get a complex.’
We look at each other and then both crack up, completely silently, clutching our sides. Tears cloud my vision as we stumble out of the campervan. Somehow he manages to close the door behind us before we let rip.
‘How do you do it?’ he asks eventually, wiping his eyes. ‘It’s been so long since I’ve laughed like this.’
‘You laughed like this last Friday, didn’t you?’ I remind him, the memory still fresh and brilliant inside my mind.
