‘Fancy trying it?’
‘I don’t mind where we go,’ says Olivia, pulling her sun hat on. ‘Just as long as we can get out of this midday sun and find some shade. I can feel myself burning. Belle, how about you?’
Her daughter pauses to consider her options for a moment, checks her phone again (something she seems to do with alarming frequency these days) and shrugs.
‘Sure, I’ll come. I wouldn’t mind checking out the Taco Lads.’
‘What about Dad?’ asks Drew as an afterthought.
‘Oh he says he’ll be busy on site at the house for the rest of the day,’ replies Olivia. ‘It’s still chaos, apparently. The architect is coming back down tomorrow as well.’
Bella raises her head at this.
‘You mean, Marcus?’ says Drew. ‘Will he be driving the same car? Do you think he’d give us a ride in it? Those wheels were sick!’
Olivia pauses. ‘Yes. And no, I doubt it. He’ll be too tied up. What are you smirking at, Bella?’
‘Nothing,’ says her daughter who stands flicking away grains of sand from the back of her smooth thighs, rearranging her bikini top.
‘Can you cover yourself up a bit, Belle, since we’re going to lunch?’
‘If you’ve got it, flaunt it,’ she quips in return, swinging her mermaid-like plait over her shoulder as they walk down the beach.
Olivia looks at her own chest, deflated from all the years of feeding her babies, and pulls her kaftan closer together to avoid sunburn. There’s nothing worse than a crinkled décolletage when you get to her age.
‘Have you got sun lotion on?’ she asks both of her children; a regular refrain.
‘YES!’ they reply in unison.
‘So, where’s this burrito place then, Drew?’ she says, turning back to her son.
‘It’s tacos, Mum. Just further down towards the end. Over there,’ he says, pointing in the direction of a sizeable queue that tails around the edge of the beachfront. ‘There might be a bit of a wait but apparently it’s worth it.’
‘Gosh, they must be making a small fortune,’ says Olivia, remembering the expensive paddleboard lessons she’s already paid for in advance as well.
‘Yeah. But I guess it has to last them all winter too.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, Mum. It’s all about the tourist trade round here. Not everyone has a job out of season.’
Olivia looks to her son again, surprised as she always is by how perceptive he can be.
‘Yes,’ she says thoughtfully. ‘I suppose so.’
TUESDAY
14
Lottie is walking along the clifftop, allowing the breeze to cool her moist neck and face. She has Josh in the backpack, and he occasionally leans over to shout garbled messages in her ear or point at a bird, a boat, a dog that crosses their path. Tim has offered to carry him but she refused his help, despite the fact that her back is starting to ache and her legs feel tired. They have decided to take another hike to explore more of the coastline. Staying in the apartment was not an option, what with the noise and the dust and the simmering tension between them both.
Earlier, they had caught the ferry over to the other side of the bay. Standing as foot passengers alongside the cars, they had all enjoyed the brief ride, admiring the large detached properties that nestled along the coast, revealing themselves intermittently. Ladder-like stone or wood staircases built into the rock descended down to private beaches, speaking of wealth and exclusivity. Lottie had stared out over the water, lost in her own thoughts, imagining what it must be like to live there, to own a piece of this ancient landscape, to claim a part of the sea. The idea that you could really buy anything if the price was right.
Trudging along in her hot, dusty trainers, she stops to pick at some blackberries now from a huge, established briar. They are surprisingly sweet, bursting with juice, ripened by the sun and she hands one back towards Josh who tastes it tentatively. Then she picks another handful and passes them to Tim like a peace offering.
‘I didn’t mean to suggest that you were to blame or anything,’ he begins and he takes the berries from her. She notices that her fingertips are stained as though dipped in blood but she quickly dismisses the thought as soon as it arrives.
Tim ploughs on, continuing their conversation from before, despite her silence. ‘None of that awful business was your fault. You know that.’
