Page 28 of Not in a Million Years

‘If Andy’s there this afternoon, he’ll still be there tomorrow,’ I agreed, concealing my relief that I was to be spared more walking for the time being.

‘I reckon this calls for a celebration,’ Daniel said. ‘Why don’t we go out for dinner when it gets cooler?’

I was too hot, knackered and footsore to protest, and besides, Daniel was already striding away, the good news making him walk even faster than usual.

Forty-five minutes (and fifteen cats) later, I collapsed on my bed, kicking off my shoes to inspect my painful feet. What had the woman said – a five-kilometre walk and no cars allowed? But that was tomorrow’s problem.

First, I had a celebration dinner with Daniel to look forward to (about as much as I looked forward to a session with the woman who waxed my bits).

But before that, I was just going to lie down, letting the cool air wash over my body, relishing not being in the sun, not being with a man who seemed to think it was his due to reduce women to simpering compliance by smiling at them, and not having to stop every five minutes to pet another bloody cat.

I closed my eyes, listening to the distant sound of gulls swooping over the water and the nearer voices of children playing in the pool…

A soft tap on the door woke me, and I sprang upright, bewildered. It was quarter to eight. I was due to meet Daniel in fifteen minutes and I was nowhere close to ready. And what if that was him knocking at my door, and he’d find me still sweat-stained and dishevelled, with sleep in my eyes and the dust of the road still on my blistered feet?

But it was only a delivery of fresh bottled water, which I gratefully accepted before hurrying to shower.

As soon as the first drops of water hit my shin, I knew I was in trouble. What I’d thought was a bit of sunburn was clearly much worse; even the lukewarm water felt like it was being poured on my neck and shoulders from a freshly boiled kettle. In the mirror, as I towelled off, I could see my skin was lobster-red. There was a stark line on my thighs where my shorts ended: pasty-white flesh above it and angry scarlet below.

‘Shit,’ I muttered.

I didn’t care if Daniel found me attractive – quite the reverse. But there was no doubt that turning up for dinner looking like the love child of a cauliflower and a tomato would put me at a disadvantage. And, to make matters worse, I’d slept for so long that I had zero time to do my make-up and cover up – I peered more closely at my reflection – the scattering of freckles that had emerged across my cheeks and nose.

Like I say, I didn’t care what Daniel thought of me. We were here for the sole purpose of finding Andy. But that didn’t mean I wanted him to see me looking like Darla from Finding Nemo. But even worse would be turning up late and fully made-up. That would reinforce Daniel’s belief that I was high-maintenance, hard work and rude.

I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. But I was also hungry, and the prospect of an icy gin and tonic made my mind up for me. I dragged on a white cotton maxi skirt and a grey T-shirt that covered up the worst of the redness, and forced my throbbing feet into trainers, throwing my treacherous flip-flops into a corner of the room.

I opened my door at exactly the same moment as Daniel emerged from his room. He looked infuriatingly cool and composed. The tan I’d noticed emerging earlier had deepened, and I was sure there were even new, lighter streaks in his hair. He smelled faintly of some kind of juniper fragrance, and his pale pink linen shirt looked freshly pressed.

When he saw me, his face registered alarm. He reached out and eased the neckline of my top over my shoulder. His hand was cool, as if he’d been for another of his swims.

‘Jesus, Kate. That looks really sore.’

‘Yes, master of the fucking obvious,’ I said. ‘Sunburn hurts. Shall we go?’

‘I knew you should have—’ he began, and then stopped.

‘Should have what?’ If you so much as utter the word ‘hat’, I’ll go back in, fetch my flip-flops, and beat you to death with them, I thought.

‘Nothing.’ Daniel headed down the stairs. ‘Shouldn’t you put aloe vera on it or something?’

‘Probably, if I had aloe vera. Which I don’t.’

‘I’m sure we can get some in town.’

‘Look, it’s fine. I’ll live.’ And be peeling like a human lychee in the morning.

‘Well, if you’re sure. It’s your skin. There’s a place down by the waterfront that does decent seafood, apparently. Fancy that?’

‘Sure, whatever you want.’

Although why he wanted to watch the sunset with waves lapping at our feet and eat shellfish like this was some kind of romantic date was utterly beyond me.

We walked together down to the shoreline. The sun was disappearing behind the mountain on the far side of the bay, only a golden sliver still visible, illuminating the banks of dark cloud with bands of amber and crimson. In the evening light, the sea had lost its intense blue and faded to a gleaming silver. Drifts of sand crunched beneath my feet on the cobblestones. The air was cooling.

We walked for about ten minutes, past bars and restaurants and coffee shops, merging with a passing parade of people heading out for the evening: couples strolling hand in hand, families with babies in buggies, groups of giggling teenagers.

It appeared to be the dinner hour for the local cats, too – outside many of the restaurants were bowls and plates full of food, furry heads buried deep in them.

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