Mara had brought a swimsuit but not a towel. Adrian had brought neither. They stood above the small beach on Wednesday afternoon considering whether a fish plate counted as adequate preparation.
“We could go back,” he said.
“We could. We could also have stayed in Bristol.”
“I didn't know you lived in Bristol.”
“You've got a lot to learn before Friday.”
He turned toward her, smiling. Below them people were lying on towels, children digging in sand, a couple sharing the shade of an umbrella which appeared to have been selected for a much smaller couple. The sea moved lazily against the beach. Mara could feel the heat through the soles of her sandals.
“Shall we find a place?” Adrian asked.
She nodded and followed him down.
They found enough shade to put their things on dry sand. Adrian set the pottery parcel down with a care which made her laugh. He asked whether it was going to become the main recipient of his afternoon.
“You said it was very me.”
“It's being treated accordingly.”
She took the scarf from her bag and spread it beneath the fruit. There was something comic and faintly luxurious about making a little home of unsuitable things. A scarf, a paper bag, a dish they couldn't use because it was wrapped in paper. She wanted to take a picture for Freya, then decided she could show her later.
Adrian sat down and began removing his shoes. Mara stood for a moment with her fingers on the straps of her dress.
“Would you mind turning around?”
“Certainly.”
He did, then looked back involuntarily when she laughed at the difficulty of changing beneath a dress she'd selected for how little extra room it contained.
“Don't.”
“Sorry.”
He turned farther away, his shoulders shaking. She got into the swimsuit, dragged the dress off over her head and dropped it into his lap.
“You can turn now.”
He looked at her. His smile went quiet for a moment, and she liked that more than anything he could have added.
“Very nice,” he said.
“A technical assessment?”
“No. I just meant—yes, you look very nice.”
She went toward the water before she could begin managing her own pleasure in his gaze. At the edge the sand gave way beneath her feet. She stepped in slowly, felt the cool reach her calves, then her thighs, then took the last few steps faster because there was no dignity in prolonging a decision she had already made.
She swam a little way and turned to look back. Adrian had taken off his shirt. He sat with his arms folded over his knees, watching her, her dress beside him. His stomach was softer than Theo's. His shoulders were as good as they'd seemed yesterday. She liked seeing the actual body he'd brought with him, its familiarities belonging to somebody else.
He came down to the water in his shorts and stepped in with far more hesitation than she had managed. She waited until he stopped just below waist-deep.
“An excellent place to pause,” he said.
“You could keep going.”
“I could. I could also have stayed in Bristol.”
She laughed at having her own words returned. He took another step, grimaced, then came toward her with the concentrated expression of somebody who could be persuaded to be ridiculous if she waited long enough.
They swam without going far. He was not an impressive swimmer. He looked perfectly capable and entirely uninterested in demonstrating it. When she turned onto her back he watched for a while, then tried the same thing and got water in his mouth.
“Good?” she asked.
“Salty.”
“Disappointing. The brochure promised sweet.”
He laughed, coughed, shook his head and went back to the shallow water. She followed, feeling the shore rise beneath her again. At his side she touched his forearm to steady herself on a soft patch of sand. His hand came to her elbow, warm even here.
She kept her fingers on his arm for another second.
They returned to the little patch of shade. Adrian offered his shirt for drying. She said she would ruin it. He looked at the already wet shorts and said he had begun a comprehensive programme.
She accepted the shirt, rubbed the worst of the water from her hair and sat beside him. Sun reached one of her knees. He moved their belongings so she could put both legs into shade, then asked whether she minded if he smoked.
She looked at him, surprised.
“You smoke?”
“Not often.”
“That's what people who smoke say.”
“Fair enough.”
He had a small packet in his bag. He took out one cigarette, looked at her again and put it back when she shook her head.
“I'd rather you didn't.”
“All right.”
He wasn't offended. He also wasn't pleased to have been improved. He put the packet away and picked up a piece of fruit instead, asking whether she wanted one.
She liked the afternoon enough to accept something which had been getting warm in a paper bag for hours. Juice ran along her finger. Adrian handed her the paper around the plate, then realized what he was doing and took it back.
“Sorry, we need that to keep the plate from getting chipped. Here, use this bit.”
Mara laughed and wiped her finger on a different bit of paper. They ate, watching people in the water and a woman trying to persuade an umbrella to remain at the angle she wanted. A boy nearby had made something in the sand which neither of them could identify. His father was carefully putting stones along its edge, asking what they were supposed to represent. The boy refused to explain.
“Commissioned work,” Mara said.
“I know that customer.”
Adrian leaned back on his elbows. His arm was close to hers. She liked the afternoon's slow, slightly awkward stretches. He didn't fill every quiet moment. When he did speak, it wasn't necessarily the thing she would have chosen, and she didn't have to rescue the conversation from that.
He told her his daughter had gone on a holiday with friends the previous summer and sent exactly one photograph which didn't include any of them. It had been a lamp. A terrible lamp, he said, considering what he'd taught her about lamps. Mara asked what he'd taught her about lamps. He gave a surprisingly involved answer.
“You sell them,” she said when he'd finished.
“I have to believe in something.”
She put her head back and laughed. He turned toward her.
“What?”
“Nothing. I like you.”
He let the admission stay between them. Then he moved closer and kissed her.
It was a simple kiss at first. His mouth was warm and a little salty. She kept one hand on the sand while the other found his shoulder. He paused before kissing her again, and she went toward him, so there was nothing left for him to wonder about.
His hand moved to her back. She felt the width of it against her skin, the slight pressure of fingers still unfamiliar. Her breath caught. She had been thinking about being kissed all morning, but that had been an idea she could move around while buying a scarf. This was a person, close enough that she had to tip her head differently to find what she wanted.
She did.
When she drew away she was smiling, and he put one finger against the corner of her mouth before dropping his hand. She wanted him to keep it there. She wanted several things at once, all of them bodily and immediate.
“We've abandoned the fish,” he said.
She laughed and leaned her forehead against his shoulder.
“It's going to complain.”
“Let it.”
They sat together for a while. She didn't remain leaning on him; he shifted to stretch one leg and she moved with him, sitting close enough for their arms to touch. He asked whether she wanted to head back.
She looked at the light on the water.
“Not yet.”
“Good.”
That word could belong to another man, said differently. She didn't need to go looking for the other one now.
They stayed until she was dry enough to put her dress on without making it cling. He turned away again, and this time she told him he didn't have to. The swimsuit remained underneath. He watched her draw the dress down over her hips, then stood and kissed her once more, a hand at the side of her neck.
There was nowhere private here. She liked that it left wanting in her body while they gathered up the ridiculous little day they'd made.
They found a table near the beach and ordered cold drinks. When they arrived, Mara carried hers round the table to sit beside Adrian.
Her phone had two messages. Freya had sent a picture of a green frog with the words Important new friend. Leah had asked if she was having a good day.
Mara replied yes to Leah, then added a photograph of her drink and the pottery parcel. She didn't send the kiss, or an account of it, or a carefully casual suggestion that a new man had made everything possible. Leah could have the sea and the cold glass. Mara wanted to keep something for herself until it was old enough to tell.
Adrian put his phone away. Mara lifted her glass; the cold water from its sides ran down her wrist. Under the table her knee rested against his.
They returned to Casa Brisa in the late afternoon, both carrying more than they'd left with. Adrian took the plate as far as the path to her villa, then handed it to her.
“Boat tomorrow?” she asked.
“Your group?”
“There's room. You're invited.”
“Will I have to meet the rock?”
She looked puzzled.
“Your friend Bill told us. A particularly lifelike guest, apparently.”
“Oh. That rock.”
Adrian smiled. “I'll come, if it's actually all right.”
“It is. I'll ask Elena where everyone meets.”
He kissed her before they parted, out on the path where anybody might pass. She liked the kiss and the small openness of the action. Then he went toward his own room, and she stood holding the fish plate until she became aware that she was smiling at the wrapping.
In the villa, Theo was on the terrace with a cup of coffee. He looked up when she came through.
“Good market?” he asked.
“Very.”
She put the parcel on the table. He reached toward it, then stopped to let her open it herself.
The blue fish appeared, indignant as ever. Theo looked at it for a moment, then smiled.
“Yes,” he said. “You needed that.”