‘When we stop,’ he agreed. ‘We’ll need to get some petrol soon.’
In the meantime, he was going to stop talking about his work and focus on his driving. The land was beginning to change as they got closer to the edge of the plateau. There were hills and some dramatic limestone cliffs not far away and he could seewhat was becoming a familiar tumble of buildings on the steep rocky slopes.
‘Looks like we’ll find that petrol soon,’ he said, pointing at the cliffs.
‘That’s Moustiers-Sainte-Marie,’ Tilly told him. ‘It’s said to be one of the most beautiful medieval villages in Provence and it’s squeezed between two cliffs. There’s a star that hangs on a chain from cliff to cliff, as high above the village as a little chapel. The story goes that a knight returning from the Crusades hung the star to give thanks for his safe return. We could climb up to see it, if you don’t mind about two hundred steps.’
It seemed to be his turn to smile at Tilly.
She didn’t think he was boring.
In fact, she thought he was definitelynotboring. Maybe honesty really was the best policy.
‘I don’t know about you,’ he said, his eyes back on the road, ‘but I’m feeling a little lazy this morning, which might have well have something to do with how hot it is but I suspect it’s more about a lack of sleep. I’d rather like to find some good, strong coffee.’
His sideways glance was swift enough to catch Tilly’s cheeks going a very charming shade of pink at the reminder of why they’d been awake for most of the night. And that she was just as tired as he was.
‘I know a little café,’ she said. ‘It’s close to the waterfall and it will be nice and cool. We could also buy some food for a picnic lunch at the boulangerie. There’s a place you need to see, further up the road. Did you know that the Gorge du Verdon is called the Grand Canyon of Europe? Those cliffs of Moustiers are just the beginning.’
* * *
It was only the second time that Angus had unlatched the roof of the Alfa and folded it away but his movements were confident. Relaxed, even.
Everything was more relaxed about Angus McLeod since last night. Tilly could see it in his face. He might claim to be tired from lack of sleep but, as far as she was concerned, he looked distinctly refreshed. The lines around his eyes were less noticeable and his mouth looked… softer? Almost on the point of smiling.
Or maybe Tilly was just remembering how soft his lipsactuallywere. How they felt against her skin and her lips and… Oh, my…No… She would have to fan her face in a moment and didn’t dare look at Angus. Instead, she arranged her satchel to be on one side of her feet and the paper bag, holding the food she had gathered at the boulangerie for their lunch, on the other so she didn’t have to cradle it in her lap. She needed both hands to tie her poppy scarf over her hair.
And to distract herself.
‘I like this car,’ she told Angus.
‘Aye? Me too.’ He settled himself behind the wheel and pulled his leather cap onto his head.
‘I think it needs a name.’
The look Tilly received was wary. ‘You name your cars?’
‘The ones with personality, yes. Like my van.’
‘Let me guess. Vanessa?’
Tilly laughed. ‘No. But I wish we’d thought of that. Sophie named her Maeve. Because she’s mauve.’
‘And your, what was it, a scooter?’
‘A Vespa. He’s green.’
‘Kermit? Like the frog inSesame Street?’
It was Tilly’s turn to throw a meaningful glance at Angus – a mild rebuke for the insult. ‘He’s Pesto.’
This made Angus laugh. ‘Because he’s green?AndItalian?’
‘Tout à fait.’
Angus was slowing the car smoothly as he approached a sharper bend in the road. He moved down a gear, to take the corner, the engine responding with a low growl that settled into a confident roar as he accelerated out of it.
‘Listen to that,’ Tilly said. ‘This car has a big personality. He’s cute. And a little… naughty? No, that’s not the right word because he’s not a bad person. He’s a lot of fun and he’s bold.’
