He cut into her thoughts. ‘We can’t avoid each other,’ he said more sternly than he’d spoken thus far.
‘Why not?’ she taunted.
‘Because I am to be billeted with you, Persey. I am going to be living at Deux Tourelles.’
Chapter 7
Persephone sat in the armchair and dragged her mind back to that last time she’d seen Stefan. That last time on the cliff when he’d told her he’d see them next summer, told them he’d write. Maybe he hadn’t said that, now she thought about it. Maybe she’d just wanted to believe that was the case. But he hadn’t returned the following summer. He hadn’t written. But then, neither had she. She hadn’t known what to say. Somehow she felt as if she should apologise. But for what? She had no idea. She remembered him, and what had happened between them.
She remembered Dido fiddling with her ring, which is what had started it all, and then her saying … ‘Stefan will rescue me won’t you, Stefan?’
She remembered Stefan smiling, ever so discreetly, after having stated he wouldn’t be able to save a woman with a two-minute head start from falling down the cliff. She remembered every single word.
Jack and Dido had set off, Jack’s hand clasping Dido’s while practically dragging her behind him. Jack had always viewed Persey and Dido as surrogate sisters, but it was often Dido he protected – smaller, slighter, younger than Persey. And then they had passed a thicket of bushes and were gone, out of sight.
Stefan had looked at his watch and then at Persey. She hadn’t known what to say. Two long minutes of silence had stretchedout in front of them and she’d kicked at a stone absent-mindedly, watching as it flew out over the edge of the cliff and disappeared out of sight as gravity took it and it began its descent towards the sea.
He too had watched the stone disappear and then looked back towards her.
‘How long?’ Persey had asked.
‘About a minute and forty five seconds,’ Stefan had replied.
Oh, good Lord. So long. Think of something to say. Think. ‘Will you … will you be back next summer?’ she had asked.
His blue eyes looked at hers. ‘I hope so, yes.’
‘And … when do you leave this time?’ she’d clawed at the threads of an awkward conversation, willing it on.
‘I leave in two days.’
‘Two days?’ she’d said in genuine, saddened surprise. ‘I thought you were here for at least another fortnight. Until the end of summer.’
‘Not this year,’ he’d said simply.
‘Why are you going so soon?’ she’d asked quietly.
‘I must spend some time with my mother and father before I leave for my studies again. I would like to remain here with my aunt and uncle. And with you. With you all. But spending my last few weeks with my parents is … the right thing to do.’
She’d nodded, could hardly believe he had been here for almost a month and this was the first time the two of them had been alone. He had been visiting his aunt and uncle in Guernsey every summer for the past four or five years and while she had forced herself to pay very little attention to him, this year she had surprised herself by growing even more interested. He was quiet, intriguing, handsome. Had he been like that all this time or had it happened suddenly?
‘It’s almost our time,’ he’d said, holding out his hand.
She’d looked at it but kept hers firmly at her sides.
‘You do not wish me to hold your hand? To keep you safe?’
‘No,’ she’d cried in horror.
‘Jack is holding Dido.’
‘Jack is dragging Dido,’ she’d clarified.
He’d laughed. ‘You start and I will follow.’
‘No,’ she’d said, thinking of him behind her, his eyes on her as she ran. ‘You start – you’re faster.’
‘How do you know I am faster?’
