Page 34 of The Lucky Escape

I nodded. ‘Here for the week.’

‘It’s unusual to see these so soon. The water is clear enough in the summer but we’re still early, really.’

Patrick draped his arm over my shoulder as we huddled in close to watch the strange beast head into deeper water. I could feel the warmth of him spreading across me, his fingers gently curling around the top of my arm. The weight of a person’s touch, of a man’s touch, was something I hadn’t experienced in weeks. I didn’t dare move once I’d realized Patrick was there. I didn’t want any sudden movements to scare him off, or worse, to hurt me. He was my human stingray, and I was his observer. It was heady, being so close to someone.

‘Isn’t it extraordinary?’ He sighed. ‘I’m so glad we got to see this.’

He dropped his arm as I looked at him to smile, and for a moment I thought I’d ruined it, that I’d spoiled the moment. But then the tips of his fingers brushed against the tips of mine and he purred, ‘Come on, let’s see what’s in that hamper the lodge sent us with.’

As he held on to my wrist and led the way back up to our spot, the oddest thought popped into my mind. I thought:Am I imagining this?

The thing was, I couldn’t quite articulate what ‘this’ was.

Around five o’clock in the afternoon is my favourite time on a beach. It’s when you’re warm to the touch and salty andeverything moves slowly, like a Jack Johnson song about sepia-toned photographs. It’s just heaven. We were lying side by side on the hotel beach blanket, a discarded beer can at each of our feet, some kids playing frisbee within earshot, screeching with glee before being hushed by their father. I woke up from another peaceful doze to their sound right as Patrick did.

‘Hey,’ he said, sleepily.

‘Hey,’ I replied.

We were half a foot apart as we woke up, our eyes locking. I was aware of the rise and fall of my chest, his proximity, as the sun lowered in the sky.

‘Penny for your thoughts.’

I looked away to just over his shoulder, but it was nicer to be looking at him. We were both on our fronts, as if we’d woken up in bed together, not on a beach.

‘I’m so relaxed,’ I said, and I realized my voice had dropped. I wasn’t whispering, but he was so close to me that I didn’t need to make an effort to be heard.

‘Yeah,’ he hummed. There was a pause. ‘I like this feeling.’

‘The holiday feeling?’

‘After a beer, on the sand, the sun going down. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be. It’s at this time of day, beside the ocean, that time suspends itself doesn’t it?’

‘Yeah,’ I agreed. I closed my eyes again and took a deep, tranquil breath.

‘You seem happy. It’s nice to see.’

I didn’t open my eyes to respond. ‘I am,’ I said, without thinking, and that forced me to turn properly to look at him. I’d surprised myself. ‘Crikey,’ I said, with more vim. ‘I actually think I am. I’m properly happy for the first time since everything happened.’

He turned over and sat up to open another couple of beers, handing me one before pulling his knees up beside him and coiling his arms around them. I mirrored him and did the same, still close.

Neither of us spoke.

We looked at the water.

I was far away from my actual life, but closer to my real self than I been in ages. I didn’t even know where my phone was. No emails, no calls or texts. No need to document what was happening, finding a great angle for a photo to upload later – Patrick had his camera for memories. I hadn’t thought about work, and as easily as thoughts of my parents entered my head they left again. I missed Freddie, but I always missed Freddie, even when she was right beside me.

Right now, crucially, I did not miss Alexander. I wouldn’t have been doing this with him. He wouldn’t have lain out on a blanket beside me, reading and sleeping and chatting. He’d have been off on the water doing extreme sports, leaving me to take videos of him on land. Being with Alexander would have been lonely, but being with Patrick I was part of something. He was there with me –actually there.He’d made me a sandwich from the hamper and read me a passage from his book that he’d thought was funny. He’d listened when I talked about the merits of grated cheddar versus sliced in a sandwich, eventually agreeing with me and telling me he’d once heard a very good poem about a cheese and pickle sandwich that we’d have to look up when we got back to the lodge.

I studied his profile. He had this strong, classical nose and a wide smile, his neck a gentle sloping curve into his expansive shoulders. His blond eyelashes were longer than I’d first realized, and he had a way of moving that was graceful butsolid, almost like a dancer. It was fact: he was undeniably gorgeous. I hadn’t fully seen that, before. Maybe it was getting to know him made him more attractive as time went on.

‘You okay?’ he asked, without looking at me.

I dragged my eyes back to the horizon.

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Of course.’

We drank our beer.

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