“I thought you said last time was the last time?”

He nods. “I vaguely recall saying something like that, yes.”

“So? Another favor for Marilyn?”

He coughs. “Not this time, no. Actually I was still here, between assignments, and when she happened to mention that you were heading to Lake Tarawera for a shoot I volunteered. Always wanted to see this part of the country.”

“Really.”

“Yes.”

“You volunteered because you wanted to see ‘this part of the country.’”

“Yes.”

“No other reason?”

“What do you want me to say, that I was so desperate to see you again I pestered her until she let me have this job?”

“That would be a little more flattering, sure.”

He laughs. “You can believe what you want.”

“I will. Anyway, regardless of why you’re here, can I just say how lovely it is to see you again?”

He nods in agreement. “It’s nice to see you too. My toe is still sore, by the way.”

“Your toe?” I frown.

“The eel bite? From when we swam in the river? I’m extremely lucky it didn’t go septic.” He lifts up one foot, shaking off his sandal, and points to a small red mark on the top of his big toe. He looks so pitiful I can’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” I attempt to straighten my face into a serious expression. “I apologize unreservedly for your wound, however it was inflicted.”

“What do you mean, ‘however it was inflicted’? It was an eel. A giant one, like a mutant or something.”

I peer at his toe. “Are you sure you didn’t just stub it on a rock? Or a stick? It doesn’t really look like a bite as such.”

He slips his foot back into his sandal. “Doctor now, are you?”

“James, darling, what are you doing here?”

Nadia, emerging from the restaurant holding a bottle of bubbly wine, interrupts us. She is much more in her element here than she was at the farm. Luxury boutique accommodation. We are all booked in for the night—Sophie and Kelly, Nadia and I. And now, I’m assuming, James is as well.

“Fishing,” he answers her with a straight face. “Heard there are some pretty big trout in the lake. Much friendlier than eels.” The last bit is, of course, for my benefit.

She blinks. “Oh, really? What a coincidence. We’re here doing an article on another potential wedding venue for Ava. You remember Ava?”

“Vaguely, yes.”

“Sorry, who are you again?” I ask. “Are you the valet?”

Nadia looks back and forth between James and me, clearly confused. James takes pity on her.

“I’m here to take the photos,” he says. “And of course I remember Ava.”

“Oh, lovely,” Nadia coos. “You’re so much better than Steven, our normal guy. I mean don’t get me wrong; he’s nice enough, but he can be a bit too avant-garde, if you know what I mean. His work has a time and place, but with a wedding you really do need to be a bit more traditional.”