‘Oh. But…’ Lily was going to suggest that being caught was only one of the risks of drink driving, but Dawn marched off ahead towards the group and she found herself hurrying in her wake like a young child chasing her mother.
‘Right,’ said Dawn, letting her catch up on the edge of a small cluster of people. ‘This is Lily. Lily, this is Pat, Kenneth, Wilbur, Sharon, Conor and Bob.’
‘Nice to meet you,’ said Lily, lifting her glass slightly and realising that while Dawn might only be a decade her senior, the small group she’d been introduced to were definitely old enough to be her parents.
‘Lily’s moved over all on her own,’ Dawn continued, making a sad face. ‘So I thought it would help her to see a few friendly faces.’
There was a chorus of murmurs and nods. Her job done, Dawn clapped her hands. ‘Right,’ she said, ‘better get back to me sausage rolls.’
Lily took a tentative sip of her wine, which was pleasingly cold although a tad on the vinegary side, and looked around the group. She could feel her body tense under the soft folds of her dress. She wished more than anything she had Ben with her, or Ty. Or ideally both. Without them she felt exposed – not knowing what to say. And despite the crowd of people, terribly lonely.
The man to her left, who’d been introduced as Bob, caught her eye and gave her a grin.
‘So what brings you to these parts then?’ he asked.
‘I’m hoping to do up a property, start running retreats,’ she said. ‘What about you?’
‘Me? oh we’ve been here for about a decade. Me and Sharon over there. Both retired now, thank god.’ He took a gulp of his wine. ‘Takes a bit of getting used to, mind.’
‘Yes, I can imagine.’ She smiled. ‘But you’re settled in now.’
He shrugged. ‘It has its moments,’ he said.
She noticed a bead of sweat at the top of his bald head begin to tremble slightly, before it snaked its way along his forehead and glided down to the tip of his nose, at which point he wiped it off with the back of his hand.
‘So,’ she said in the slightly awkward silence that had formed between them. ‘What do you do?’
‘You’re looking at it,’ he said. ‘Meet up with mates, have a wine. Maybe a pizza night sometimes.’
‘Oh, right.’
‘Course it’s harder in this weather. It never used to get this hot until August.’
‘That’ll be global warming then,’ she said with a wry smile.
‘Yeah, right,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Global warming.’
‘What?’
‘You don’t seriously believe all that stuff, do you?’ he said, leaning forward slightly. ‘Tell me this, then. How can we have global warming when it’s freezing cold come September? Could do with a bit more global warming if you ask me.’
‘Eh,’ she said. She’d heard this argument before – the odd Facebook forum nutter online – but never had someone voice it to her face. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘it’s not all about things heating up, it’s—’
‘Global warming,’ he continued, not really listening to her, shaking his head, almost fondly, as if she was a small child talking about Santa.
She used the pause in conversation to make her escape and drifted over to two women in sundresses and hats standing by the water. One of the women had clearly been wearing a strappy dress the day before, and white lines of a cross-strapped back were clearly visible against the red of her sunburned skin.
‘You all right, love?’ one of them said. ‘Been talking to Bob, have you?’
‘Yes,’ she said, tentatively, not wanting to make a comment in case she’d accidentally stepped into some sort of climate-change deniers’ expat drinking group.
‘Was he giving it all that?’ the other woman asked, moving her hand like a bird’s beak.
‘Well, maybe a bit.’
‘Just ignore him,’ the first woman said. ‘He’s harmless enough. But… well, getting on a bit.’
‘Right.’ Lily felt flooded with relief. ‘I did wonder…’
‘Anyway, I’m Kelly and this is June,’ said the first woman, whose red complexion was topped with a startling blonde quiff.
June smiled. ‘Hi,’ she said. She was younger than Kelly by a few years, and had softly curling brown hair that hung neatly around her face. She’d accessorised with the sort of chunky jewellery that a kind person might describe as ‘individual’.