‘Are you not living the ecstatic life you’d hoped?’
He shook his head and pretended to look sad. ‘I try and smile once a week, but other than that I’m dead inside.’
I laughed. ‘I can see. It must be hard being so rich and successful.’
He raised one of his perfectly arched brows. ‘You think I’m successful?’
‘Yes. Aren’t you? Did Forbes get it wrong?’
‘Oh… that.’ He shrugged. ‘I spent weeks on that application but I think it was the CEO promotion that clinched it.’
‘Sounds like success to me.’
‘And as for being rich. Two words. Ex. Wife.’
‘That’s one word,’ I said, looking at his Ferrosi climbing gear and struggling to feel sorry for him. The aviators holding back his twinkling bouffant were Hugo Boss and looked brand new.
‘OK, clever.Myex-wife.’
‘Are you having to cope with three million instead of six?’
‘I wish. She pretty much cleaned me out.’ His smile faltered and his eyes turned dark.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,’ I mumbled.
I was saved from putting my foot in my mouth any further by the cable car shuddering to a stop. The midday sun was now roasting hot, and I could feel my skin burning as we took in the view of the Azores scattered across the ocean. The volcanic crater below us was vast. Tiny people stood around like ants on the edges, and those who had made it down were now nothing more than dots. Beyond the crumbly rocks were green edges full of pink flowers, and piles of white villas heaped together like sugar cubes on the edge of turquoise waters. The Azores were truly breathtaking. Waves were breaking out in the distance, giving the cerulean seas an occasional sliver of white, as speedboats zipped back and forth. I slipped my sarong over my shoulders and put my cap on to shade my face.
‘Ahh! I’d forgotten you were a fellow red,’ Leo said, waggling my cap in an overly familiar way.
‘Of course. Bootle born and bred. Are you a Liverpool fan too?’
‘Till I die,’ he replied, lifting his sleeve to reveal a tiny liver bird.
‘Snap,’ I said, pulling my precious liver bird pendant out from under my top. ‘I assumed you’d be Man City or United.’
‘Nah. Gran used to take me and my brothers to Anfield when we were kids.’
‘How many brothers have you got?’ I asked, in thick Scouse. ‘Your poor old gran with allyousemen!’
‘Two. Oscar and Max. The three of us still go to the match whenever we can and take Gran if she’s up to it. She loves to swing her scarf and give the referee a piece of her mind.’
‘I haven’t been for years – I miss it,’ I said wistfully. ‘Can’t beat a good old singalong at Anfield.’ Some of my best memories had been made in that football ground. ‘Right then – better get down this volcano hadn’t we? I’ll set an alarm, so we don’t lose track of time.’
‘Me too. We’ve got two hours before we need to be back on the boat.’
We synchronised Apple Watches like a pair of PR nerds, then walked past a woman in freshly ironed camel shorts bellowing into a loudspeaker: ‘The cable car down is to yourright. Steps for hiking are to yourleft. Surfers go straight ahead!’
‘It shouldn’t take more than an hour to get down, should it?’ I said, peering over the side. Having a bit of junk in my trunk was going to be a distinct advantage here, as well as all those early morning bus rides balancing my bags and laptop, with no spare hands to hold on.
I took a photo of the view, zooming out to show the sheer size and depth of the crater and the volcanic rock in all its glory. Lava stones in different shades of black and grey, peppered with spicy reds, leading down to the milky green lake at its centre. I noticed Heidi had added to her stories and was sat with Zach and Brooke on a rooftop cabana, about to tuck into an enormous paella. The three of them were holding up smoky, pink cocktails with an animated arrow pointing to theEsmeraldain the distance. It looked lush. And here were Leo and I, about to plunge to our deaths. I followed him to the top of the volcanic surfing section and peered over. Too late for fear.
‘Ready?’ Leo asked.
I nodded and dropped straight over the edge without hesitation to get a head start. However scared I felt, my overwhelming urge was to win.
‘Last one down buys the drinks,’ I shouted over my shoulder as I slid into the volcanic shale. It was like skidding down a sand dune and I tried to slide while watching the others to pick up tips. The kids were flying along, completely fearless, leaning back and going for it. I was stopping and starting in a panic, pulling up whenever I went too fast, scared I might never stop. Leo hooned past, using his huge flipper feet like a skateboard.
‘You went too early!’ he called, as he whizzed past. ‘That’s a disqualification.’
