Lottie sinks to her knees, places her hand on the floor and smells the crimson liquid.
‘It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s not blood. It must have been the remains of some red wine in the bottom of the glass.’
Josh is bawling now and Tim scoops him up as Lottie carefully checks his body over for any injuries.
‘No harm done,’ she says with relief.
‘Just the seagrass carpet,’ says Tim, looking at her pointedly. ‘We’ll add that to the Playdoh stuck in the rug and the chocolate stain on the white sofa.’
‘At least Josh is okay. That’s the main thing, Tim.’
‘No thanks to you.’
Lottie looks up, aghast. ‘What do you mean?’
‘That was yours. You obviously left it by the side of the sofa the other night. You know, when you were on your laptop getting drunk, being an internet crusader. Meanwhile, our son could have very nearly glassed himself just now.’
‘How can you say that, Tim? It was just an accident. It must have rolled under the sofa, out of sight. Either of us could have made that mistake.’
‘Well, maybe if you dropped this whole vendetta against next door and paid a bit more attention to your family – y’knowthe whole reason you’re supposed to be on holiday – then this wouldn’t have happened. Just saying.’
Lottie stares at him, her blood pulsing in her throat, fury crackling at her fingertips, but Tim merely turns and carries Josh to the kitchen. She hangs her head, shame soaking into her and her eyes come to rest on the dark red patch again. It really does look like blood has been spilt this day.
29
Olivia and Drew stroll into town together. She resists the urge to take up his hand or throw her arm around him as she used to do, not such a long time ago really. Although the last few years seem to have sped past and suddenly he is seventeen and taller than her. He has caught her up and exceeded her. Now it is he who offers to carry her bag or reach something down from a tall shelf.
Still, this is nice, she thinks and savours the moment. In a couple of weeks’ time he will be entering upper sixth, preparing for his final A level exams next year and before she knows it, he will be away, off to university like his sister. Depending on whether he decides to travel with some of his friends next summer (an idea that he has already mooted, much to her dismay) this might be their last holiday together for a while. The last one before he officially leaves home anyway. Of course, she knows that he will be back during the term breaks but something will irrevocably change, an invisible string that perhaps only a mother can sense, will be severed.
All the more reason to make the most of these last few days down here. She is walking him to his final paddleboarding lesson. She always marvels at how he picks things up so quickly. Spending all his time on the water has paid off and Drew has become a real proficient. He even joked to her that he might postpone uni and work a season by the coast, teaching others and working on his tan in the process. She presumes he was joking anyway.
As they weave through the narrow streets, she is aware of a strong botanical, almost herbal smell that feels faintly familiar, though she can’t say why. She points it out to Drew and he sniggers to himself, suggesting that it must be some fragrance wafting out of the local crystal shop nearby. Hemp or patchouli, she supposes and is instantly transported back to her art student days.
‘Oh, I hadn’t noticed that place before,’ she says. ‘I’ll have to pop in and have a look. Maybe treat myself. I could do with a lift.’
Drew creases up again in laughter at this and she tries to laugh along with him, though she’s sure the joke is going over her head as usual and she feels it again, this sense of loss, as though her child is within touching distance but just beyond her reach now.
‘Have you got sun cream on?’ she asks, and when Drew replies in the affirmative too quickly, she knows he’s fibbing.
‘It’s fine, Mum. I’ve got my sunglasses.’
She reaches into her bag and immediately starts to apply some cream to his nose and forehead.
‘Mum, stop!’
He bats her hands away, looking around, up and down the street.
‘Don’t be silly, it’s not like we know anyone around here.’
‘Just be chill, Mum.’
She blows out a huff of air. He is sounding more and more like his sister by the day and not in a good way.
‘You’ve forgotten your water bottle as well.’
‘It’s fine,’ he says again, more loudly this time. ‘I had breakfast at the hotel and I’m not thirsty.’
‘You soon will be in this heat. It’s so easy to become dehydrated in weather like this. And trust me, you don’t want to get heatstroke, darling. Great way to ruin a perfectly good holiday.’
