Page 19 of Too Busy for Love

‘I’ll do my best to contain myself then.’

‘I was just going to say that I can’t think of anyone I would rather have spent this week with than you. Thank you.’ I raise my glass and chink it against his.

To my surprise, he blushes. ‘I’ve really enjoyed it too,’ he says quietly.

I’ve never felt this connected to anyone after just a few days in their company. I know we’ve been colleagues since I arrived here, but I’ve only really got to know Jock properly this week. I think the only time we haven’t been together is when we’ve been getting dressed in the morning or getting ready for bed.Normally, I’d be feeling a bit stifled if I had to spend that much time with one person, but spending time with Jock is easy. We’ve talked about all kinds of things; he’s told me about his parents and his older brother Fergus, who moved to Tuscany to open a retreat centre with the love of his life, Alberto. In return, I’ve given him the lowdown on my experiences growing up as the only child of hotel owners in Ludlow. I haven’t spoken to Mum since Monday but she won’t think that’s odd. We can often go months without speaking. I’m also still irritated by her volte-face about me coming home, even though I had no intention of taking her up on her original invitation.

‘Are you OK there?’ Jock asks. ‘You look like you popped out for a moment.’

‘Sorry, I was just thinking about what my mother said.’

‘Will you call her tomorrow, once you get your phone back?’

‘IfI get my phone back. It’s doubtful; she probably hasn’t given me another thought.’

‘I’m sure she has,’ he says encouragingly.

‘Have you told your parents? About being arrested, I mean.’

‘God, no! My mother would have been on the first plane or train down here; she’d have gone straight to the police station and given them absolute hell for daring to believe that her son could be mixed up in something like this. Then she’d have come here and ripped into me for not spotting what Madame was up to. I love my mum, but she’s not someone you mess with.’

‘I think I’d rather have that than “Please stay away because we don’t want to be associated with you right now”.’

‘She is quite protective of us. It’s funny because I remember Fergus being really anxious about telling her he was gay. She didn’t give a hoot about that, but she must have grilled poor Alberto for hours before she pronounced him worthy of her boy.’

‘What about your dad? How did he feel?’

Jock grins. ‘Dad would have felt exactly how Mum told him to feel. He knows better than to cross her.’

A thought occurs to me. ‘Wouldn’t she have seen you on the news?’

‘I’d know if she had.’

‘How? She can’t get hold of you on your mobile because the police have it, and she wouldn’t be able to get through on the hotel phone either because it’s off the hook.’

‘Is she here?’

‘No.’

‘Then she doesn’t know. Pudding?’

‘Please.’

Jock tops up our glasses before taking the plates out to the kitchen, returning a minute or so later with two ramekins.

‘It’s the leftover lemon possets from the picnic,’ he explains as he puts one down in front of me. ‘I cut the recipe down as much as I could, but you can’t really do fewer than four as a minimum.’

‘That’s OK.’ I smile. ‘I’m more than happy to have it again. You’ve completely spoiled me, you realise that? I’m never going to be able to have half the things I like again without remembering the way you made them.’

‘I’m glad I’ve made an impression.’ He laughs.

‘God, this is good,’ I groan as I take a mouthful. ‘You’ve basically ruined all lemon-flavoured desserts for ever.’

‘It’s OK,’ he admits. ‘I wouldn’t call it life-changing though.’

‘If I go to prison tomorrow, I want to remember this flavour. In fact, never mind the drugs and all the other stuff you can get smuggled into prisons; I’d be happy with contraband lemon posset once a week.’

‘That might be difficult.’

---