Some of Summer’s things are on one of the loungers, but there’s no sign of her. Just Louis, who’s doing laps in the pool. He covers its modest length in just a couple of strokes. The sound of his regular turns, the splash of his limbs in the cool water makes me feel relaxed at last. I sit down heavily on a lounger, then lift my booted leg into position. I’m careful now, making sure I take my medication, taking my temperature if I feel a bit off. But so far, so good. It looks like I can finally start to heal.
Seeing me, Louis climbs out of the pool and, wrapping a towel around his waist, comes over and sits drippily on the edge of my sunlounger, which tips a little before settling down again.
‘I’m so sorry I got here late,’ I tell him. ‘Your dad too. It’s been… well, not everything has gone to plan these last few days.’
‘It’s OK,’ he says and I hope he means it.
‘Are you all ready for tomorrow?’ Something catches in my throat when I think of the wedding.
He nods. ‘Yeah, Gran has it all under control. Summer and I just have to turn up.’
‘I bet,’ I say, grinning. Mum is an organisational dynamo, and I’ll bet she’s enjoyed making sure everything runs like clockwork.
‘It’s not real, you know,’ he says.
‘What isn’t?’
He sighs. ‘Well, the wedding. I mean it is a wedding, don’t get me wrong. But we’re not French, haven’t been residents here, so we can’t get things properly signed off with the mayor. We’ll have to do a registry office wedding when we get back. You know, to make it legal.’
‘Oh. Well, that’s OK. The promises you make to each other are the important bit.’
‘Yeah,’ he says.
Something in the curve of his back as he sits, little droplets running down that I long to dry off with my towel as I would have just a few short years ago, makes me ache for him. ‘Louis,’ I say, ‘are you OK? I mean, with the wedding and everything?’
He turns abruptly. ‘Yes. Bloody hell, Mum.’
‘What?’
‘Gran said you’d be like this.’
‘She did?’ I feel myself stiffen.
‘Yeah. That you might try to talk me out of it.’
‘Why? What? How dare she!’
‘But she’s right, isn’t she, Mum? If I said I wasn’t certain… well, you’d support me, wouldn’t you?’
I shift up onto my elbows, look at my son, astonished as I always am at the smoothness of his skin, the youth of him. ‘Louis, I’d support you no matter what. You know that. So yes, I suppose Gran’s right. If you were having doubts, I’d support you. Why wouldn’t I?’
He shrugs. ‘Yeah, but maybe I shouldn’t be let off the hook.’
‘What?’
‘You know. Summer’s pregnant. She’s happy – we both are – but we’re kind of terrified too. And I… well, it takes two to tango, you know. I have to do my part.’
‘Yes, of course. But there are lots of ways to be a good father. You don’t have to rush into?—’
He puts a hand on my arm, stopping me mid-sentence. ‘Mum, I love Summer,’ he says and the simplicity and openness of hearing him say those words makes something crack a little inside me. ‘I know I want to marry her. Maybe it’s sooner than I’d have planned. But you know. We’d have got there eventually.’
‘Well, good. That’s good.’
‘And now I have responsibilities. I have to grow up. You know. I can’t be like…’
I stiffen, anticipating his words. ‘Like who?’
‘I’m not going to do what Dad did. I’m not going to abandon Summer, leave her to it. I love Dad, but…’ He trails off, his implication clear.
