Page 42 of The Lucky Escape

‘Guess who had the good sense to come prepared?’ he said, holding it out to me.

‘Smart arse,’ I grinned, accepting it. ‘Who packs a jumper for the beach?’

‘It was cold on the way home yesterday!’ he exclaimed. ‘I’m a quick learner!’

I pulled on the smooth navy wool he’d given me.

‘How do I look?’ I asked, rolling up the sleeves.

‘Oddly sexy,’ he replied, clutching his hand to his heart like he was outraged by the suggestion.

‘Sexy!’ I squealed. ‘Ewwww!’

His face fell serious. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘It suits you.’

I picked up my bag and crossed it over my body, awkward at the suggestion of ‘sexy’.

‘You sure you don’t want it?’ I said.

‘Nah. Car is just up there.’

I could see the limo up in the distance, the headlights on to help guide us. Darkness was falling quickly.

‘Here,’ Patrick said, as we reached the rickety old steps we’d taken down. ‘Let me help you.’

He threaded his hand through mine, leading the way and holding on tightly to make sure I didn’t slip. I liked being looked after – to be looked after by him. His grip was firm and reassuring.

‘I’ve got you,’ he said. ‘It’s okay.’

I followed him.

‘Thanks,’ I said, as we reached the top. He stood, pausing for a moment, backlit by the car headlights so that he had a glow around his messy, sandy hair. He’d let go of my hand because we were already back on solid ground, but he took it again to guide me to the car door, opening it and squeezing lightly.

‘Thanks,’ I said, squeezing back, and we only let go so that he could climb in behind me.

19

He called Mona Lisa the next morning, over coffee on the balcony.

‘It’s not that I’m not having the best time ever, because I totally am,’ he said. ‘I was just thinking it might be good to wander about on my own a bit and then meet you for dinner later? I just don’t want you to get sick of me.’

Patrick’s whole demeanour had changed. The Patrick I’d said goodnight to was relaxed and insouciant, but overnight he’d become agitated and uncharacteristically standoffish – as if, on reflection, he wasn’t as okay as he’d made out.

‘Oh,’ I said, trying to catch up with this change in temperature. ‘Sure! Whatever you want.’ My voice was high, my smile too wide. Was this because of what he’d told me yesterday? We’d been fine with each other on the way home from the beach, even after the hand-holding, which now I thought about it was probably just him being extra careful in looking after me because he was a gentleman. I didn’t know why I kept thinking about his hand reaching for mine,or how he’d looked at me once we were back in the villa and I’d peeled off his jumper, giving it back to him.

We’d stayed up late talking about favourite foods and sibling stories – I’d told him about Freddie, and more about how awesome she was. We kept dipping back into Yak Yak memories too, and bootcamp. It was easy and fun.

I did have questions about Mala, though, which I hadn’t thought appropriate to bring up yet. I wanted to know what happened after he’d found out, what he’d done with her things, if he still saw her family. I wanted to know if he’d dated since, or what he thought about dating in the future. I knew he needed to be the one to bring it up. I didn’t want to douse his mood with a bucket of cold water if he didn’t want to discuss it. But on the other hand, I’d googled it before I’d gone to bed, reading that when you lose somebody, the best gift is to be asked questions about them. What had Patrick said about people being scared of grief being contagious? I couldn’t decide what the best thing to do was: ask about her, or wait for him to bring her up again.

‘It’s lovely, hanging out with you,’ I replied to his suggestion, my ego a tiny bit bruised. ‘But I’m totally happy to take my book and go read down by the lake. I probably haven’t explored the grounds here enough anyway, and we leave soon, so I should get on that.’

He clapped his hands together as if the decision had been made. ‘Excellent,’ he affirmed. ‘I’ll head off to explore, then. Great. Yeah. Cheers.’ He got up and left his drink. He couldn’t get away from me fast enough.

I didn’t want to ask if everything was okay, because clearly not everything was okay, but I knew I’d spend the day worrying I’d screwed up. And if I had screwed up, it would be better to know instead of not knowing and so not fixing it.

‘You good?’ I asked, as he gathered up his things.

‘Me?’ he replied. ‘Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?’

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