“I’m trying not to, but I’m a curious guy by nature.” I hear him shuffle in the grass. “Telling me not to look at something is like telling someone not to push a big red button,” he complains.

I scuttle back to the fence and, as elegantly as I can, climb over, grateful that no one is around to watch.

“Let me guess,” I huff as I swing my leg over and drop triumphantly to the other side. “You’d push the big red button.”

“Every time,” he confirms.

“Well, you’ll just have to be patient a little longer.”

“Why? What are you doing?”

I study the bank for the easiest route down into the water. It’s only a meter or two, but it’s steep; luckily there are reeds and long grass growing on the banks that I can use as handholds. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to stick a pitchfork in your back.”

“The thought hadn’t crossed my mind.”

“Really? I think I’ve seen too many scary movies. It’s the first thing I’d worry about if someone I barely knew told me to turn around while we were alone in a field.”

“Well, it’s not like you had a pitchfork hidden in a pocket on that dress, is it?”

“Good point.” I grab a fistful of grass and slide down on my bottom as far as I can, tantalizingly close to the water.

“OK,” James says firmly. “You’ve had your fun. You’ve got three seconds and then I’m turning around. One…”

“No,” I squeal.

“Two…”

I take a breath, let go of the grass, and slide the rest of the way, landing with a small splash. The water is deeper than I thought and I go under, but I surface again in seconds, alternating between swearing like a sailor because of the cold and laughing with delight.

“Three,” James calls. I can no longer see him but I hear him exclaim in bewilderment. “Ava? Where are you?”

“Down here.”

“Where?”

“In the water.”

I hear him swear and then the twang of the wires as he scales the fence. His face peers down at me.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?”

“I know what it looks like, but why?”

“Why not?” I do a little dolphin dive, careful not to flash too much above the surface of the water. When I emerge he is watching me, bemused.

“Why don’t you come in? The water’s fabulous.”

“Liar. It looks freezing.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I had you mistaken for a big brave man.”

“Hey, I’m brave. I’ve been in war zones and disaster areas, I’ll have you know.”

“But a little old river is just too much, eh?” I roll my eyes and start swimming away from him, toward the bend where the river widens.

“Where are you going?”

“Exploring.”

“On your own?”

I flip back around and tilt my head, treading water. “Unless you feel like coming with me.”

He is torn, I can tell by his facial expression. Finally, with a shake of his head, he lifts his T-shirt off. “I must be crazy,” he mumbles.