The tension was starting to get to her in other ways too. She would mislay things. Her keys would disappear from the kitchen worktop. Her toothbrush would be in the bin – fallen from the sink above. And a deep scratch appeared on her hire car, which must have happened when she’d parked in the village. It wasn’t just Cherry’s continued presence that was bothering her. There was also the issue of the cost of the flight. The ticket had definitely shown a fee of ￡500, of that she was certain. And yet Daniel had said he’d paid her a hundred pounds more. She was well aware of the vast gulf between the two of them in wealth and she didn’t like the way her mind was thinking.
Two days before Laura was to go home, it suddenly occurred to her that Cherry would likely still be at the villa when she herself had gone back to London. This notion irritated her so much she was quite monosyllabic when they said they were going into St Tropez for the day. She waved them off and then went outside to the pool to retrieve her bikini, which she’d left on the dryer the day before. It wasn’t there and Laura looked around. She could swear she’d hung it out the previous night. Then she saw it, blown into the dirt. She went to retrieve it and saw it was filthy, as if it had blown off when it was still wet, which was odd, as it hadn’t been windy at all yesterday evening. Sighing, she took it inside to wash. As she ran the taps, she considered how much, if anything, she could challenge Cherry about. She could hardly ask her how much her flight had cost, as it would sound like a direct accusation, but she decided that she would ask her again when she was planning to leave. That, she was entitled to.
She would stretch out this trip another three days. After all, funerals in France took a long time to organize, and there were all her grandmother’s things to go through. Neil had been aptly sympathetic and had agreed to the extended compassionate leave when she’d phoned to tell him her grandmother had sadly passed away. It had been a simple decision not to tell Laura exactly how long she planned on staying; it served her right for nosing through her things. Who the fuck did she think she was, snooping through her private stuff? She was so in your face all the time, always asking questions, wanting to spend every waking minute with them; she probably thought it was her God-given right to look around their bedroom. She sighed. She wished it wasn’t like this. It would have been so nice if they’d hit it off. Cherry was of the opinion it was important to get on with your boyfriend’s mother and it bothered her that she didn’t.
She held Daniel’s hand as they wandered around St Tropez, bags slung over their shoulders, hats shielding their eyes as they walked, flip-flops kicking up sand and dust. They headed through Place des Lices, where the old guys played boules in the dappled shade under the plane trees, then made their way down to the port, where the yachts looked too big for the harbour.
‘What was it again?’ asked Daniel, wanting to hear her say it.
‘A blue short flared skirt and matching blue-and-white-striped cotton top. An exact colour match,’ she said with a shudder.
He looked at her legs. ‘How short?’
She pulled his hat down over his face.
‘OK, sorry,’ he grinned. ‘So then what?’
‘I was out with a couple of friends one day and saw the girl whose hand-me-down it was. And I happened to be wearing it at the time.’
‘So?’
‘You don’t understand. It was humiliating. I was so embarrassed I ran across the road in the hope she wouldn’t spot me. That was when the car hit me.’
‘What!’ He looked at her, horrified.
She tucked her arm into his. ‘In the end, it was only a sprained ankle, along with a lot of bruising.’
‘You could have been killed.’
‘At the time, I was more concerned about whether or not the full story would get out at school. I was only fourteen, remember. Fortunately, the girl didn’t figure out why I’d run away like that. In fact,’ said Cherry, suddenly realizing, ‘I’ve never told anyone before now.’
Daniel took her hand and squeezed it and she smiled. Occasionally these stories that had haunted her childhood were useful, and unlike some of things she’d said, they were actually true. Daniel was pulling her across the street.
‘What?’ she said, bemused, and then looked up and saw they had wandered into the narrow streets of the Old Village, where all the boutiques were, and seemed to be heading straight for Dior. Her heart fluttered; he was intent on something, but she couldn’t quite work out what. Then they were inside. She looked around at the pristine decor with its selected wares, items that seemed to mock her with their superiority, and grew nervous. It was all well and good that hard-times story prompting him to suggest a shopping trip, but she couldn’t afford anywhere near these prices.
‘It’s too nice to be inside shop—’
‘On me,’ he said quietly.
She stared at him, wide-eyed.
‘Anything you want. In fact, let’s try on loads. I like that yellow shirt. What do you think?’
She looked at where he was pointing, then back at him again, as it still hadn’t sunk in.
‘You’d better hurry up because we’ve got the others to do yet.’
‘Others?’ she managed to croak.
‘Don’t ask me what they’re all called, as I never remember all the names, but they do have some nice clothes.’ He smiled apologetically, indicating his modest attire. ‘So I’m told.’
Cherry couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. ‘I can’t . . .’ she started half-heartedly.
‘It’s my birthday present to you,’ he said firmly.
And that made it OK. He seemed to be as keen as she was, taking garments off rails and holding them up against her, waiting patiently outside changing rooms and giving constructive comments that proved he was actually looking at the clothing. He also paid for everything. Cherry didn’t go mad – she didn’t want to look greedy or take advantage of his wealth – and a couple of items she turned down, saying she had too many, but still she acquired five or six pieces of designer clothing. After the last but one shop, Daniel seemed to flag, but buoyantly kept up his offer.
‘Do you want to do the last one?’ he said, nodding across the street.
Cherry sensed he’d had enough. She kissed him on the lips. ‘No, thank you. This has already been the perfect morning.’
He looked relieved and she realized he’d made quite a sacrifice.
‘You don’t like shopping, do you?’
Guilt flashed across his face; then he saw her laughing.
‘Can’t stand it. Now, you sit here’ – he indicated a bench in the shade – ‘and I’m going across to the boulangerie to get us some lunch.’