Page 26 of A Perfect Algarve Villa
‘Which do you prefer, helping out with cooking or working at the tennis centre?’ asked Alex.
Fran dried her hands on a towel. She hung it back on a peg and picked up the knife, steadying it above an onion. ‘I don’t have a preference as long as I’m earning enough.’
Alex saw Jess’s eyes swivel towards him.
‘That’s a very mature approach to life!’ said his mother. ‘Do you keep budgets and cashflow forecasts?’
Fran laughed. ‘Nah, simple life mine. Rent is the major cost, not too tricky to forecast that one.’
‘Did you learn that discipline from your parents?’ asked his mother.
Fran turned the sliced onion around on the board and started chopping from a new angle. ‘Yup!’
‘Shall I do the washing up?’ suggested Jess.
Fran pointed the knife at Jess. ‘Out, all of you, clear off and let me finish the prep. Go and have a swim or a shower or something!’
The family ate on the terrace, at a table decorated by Fran with hibiscus flowers and bunches of lavender to keep the mosquitos at bay. Alex sat beside Jess, his eyes flickering over to his mother each time his girlfriend spoke.
‘What made you choose accountancy?’ asked his father.
Alex nudged Jess’s thigh supportively.
‘I’ve always liked numbers,’ explained Jess. ‘The odd thing is I went into the job thinking it would be a steppingstone away from Barnstaple,but I haven’t even moved out of the family homeyet.’
‘You’re not alone there,’ said his father, shooting Alex a steely look.
‘Is that a licence to move into Ovington square?’ asked Alex, grinning.
His mother lifted a finger. ‘Nah-ah, you two, not in front of our guest.’ She switched her gaze to Jess, asking, ‘Is it still dominated by men, I mean at the top of the profession?’
‘Same as banking, I suspect,’ said his father. ‘Women don’t stay the course.’
‘I wasn’t asking you.’ His mother elbowed his father in the ribs.
‘Well, this particular girl is planning to stay the course!’ said Jess.
His mother sat back with a smug expression on her face, bringing a smile to his own.
Fran bustled outside, wearing a blue and white stripy apron which hung below her shorts. ‘Everything OK?’ she asked.
Jess started stacking the dirty plates. ‘Fran, that was delicious, why don’t you sit down while I wash up? Alex, are you going to help me?’
There was a burst of laughter from his father. Alex felt his body tense. He rose quickly, collected the stacked crockery, and said, ‘Good idea, Jess.’
A few days later, Alex stood beside the fridge chatting to Fran whose hands were submerged in the sink in front of her. Fran shifted her stance. ‘My muscles are so tight, any minute now that ping you hear will be one of them snapping.’
‘Why not stay for a swim when you’ve finished, loosen them off? Mum won’t mind,’ he said.
Fran turned around and Alex caught a brief flash of a belly stud. ‘But will your girlfriend?’
‘Nah, Jess isn’t the jealous type.’ He grabbed a can of Pepsi Max from the fridge. ‘We’re all finished downstairs if you wantto clear.’
Fran reached into the sink and flicked a dollop of soapsuds at him. ‘Have you now, sir? Shame your helpful girlfriend isn’t around. Wouldn’t hurt you to stack the dishes and bring them up, oh pampered princeling.’
‘Can’t be doing you out of a job!’ He snapped the ring on his can and chugged back a few slugs.
Early the next morning, Mark slipped on his running shoes and pulled the laces tight, feeling the shoes hug his feet. In London, he’d been oblivious to guests: leaving before they woke and meeting the party at a restaurant later to pay the bill, but this felt like an invasion. Yesterday, sitting in his office trying to concentrate on a set of board minutes, he’d read the same line three times without recalling a single word.
