The rain gets heavier and the women cackle from under the gazebo. ‘Girls, come under,’ Julie shouts.

‘I’m sorry, Em. I’ve really got to go home.’

Emma looks put out but nods. ‘Okay, I’ll come with you. Just let me say bye first.’

Later that evening, Yvonne receives a text message from an unknown number. There’s no name, just the words, After Emma leaves for the summer, call me.

Chapter Six

Packing

September 2020

Kiama

‘You want me to iron anything for you?’ Dad asks as he comes into Kiama’s bedroom. He looks at the open rucksack on the floor and shakes his head. ‘You really have just chucked it all in, haven’t you?’

Kiama balls up some underwear and throws it in the bag.

‘You’ve got to roll them so they don’t get crushed,’ Dad says.

‘No one cares about me having crushed boxers.’

Dad picks up the purple microfibre towel from the bed and holds it up, ‘What the hell is this?’

The last time they went to Barbados Nana had kicked off at Dad for being way over the luggage allowance and delaying them. It turned out his case was full of towels, trainers and bottles of aftershave. He knows nothing about packing.

‘Have you done your liquids? I left one of those kits for you; you know, where all the bottles are 100ml.’

‘Yeah, I found that in the bathroom. Didn’t realise it was for me.’

‘Good job I’m thinking ahead.’

‘We’re not flying EasyJet though. We’re going to check in our bags.’

Dad nods. ‘Cool. Good idea.’

This seems to be his way of dealing with the trip, to keep giving useless but thoughtful crap, like swimming shorts, compression socks and the Rough Guide to Kenya, which Kiama gave straight to the charity shop.

‘So,’ Dad says as he sits on the bed.

‘So?’ Kiama sits on his desk chair, rolling back and forth on it. He sniffs the back of his hand, where earlier he sprayed some Avon product Nana used to swear repelled mosquitoes. It reminds him of her.

‘Will you stop moving?’ Dad says. ‘You’re going to wear holes in the carpet.’

Neither of them speaks for a few minutes and Dad peers down into the rucksack again. ‘Have you packed condoms? You’ve got to be careful with the girls out there. Actually, maybe stay away from the local girls.’

‘Boundaries,’ Kiama shouts. This has been going on since he was about fourteen; long before he even kissed a girl Dad was stuffing his wallet with condoms.

‘I’ll be having nightmares about little Kiama’s running around Africa. It’s already bad enough I don’t know what you were doing in Barcelona all that time. I’m too young to be a granddad.’

‘Actually, you’re not,’ Kiama laughs.

Dad shakes his head, but smiles a little.