She lay on the sun lounger under the white calico parasol, her legs exposed to the sunshine, the skirt of her dress hitched up a little to make sure she tanned evenly. She kicked her boots onto the ground and opened the book. She had dark shades on so that her eyes were free to roam, to look over to the door of the guest house if it opened, while still maintaining the appearance of someone who didn’t care. She felt like a spy on a covert operation, a secret mission to gather as much information as she could on their mysterious lodger. On her way downstairs she’d seen his tatty brown car parked outside the front of the house, so she knew he was in the guest house. She wondered if he was awake, or if he was having an afternoon nap. He didn’t work regular hours; he just helped people as and when. He usually got up so early that she wouldn’t be surprised if he had to rest in the middle of the day. She found herself wondering how he slept, what he wore. She caught her breath at the thought of him lying in his bed, before quickly pushing that image aside. As she started to drift off to sleep, imagining him stretched out on his mattress, her book thumped against her chest, waking her.

She heard the toilet flush inside the guest house, and she was instantly alert. He was walking around now. She imagined him with his jeans hanging on his hips, unbuttoned, his hair a mess. Whenever she saw him, he was always so well presented with his hair combed back and away from his face, but she knew when he was alone that probably wasn’t the case and she thought she might like to see him a little messy. She wondered what his hair would feel like to the touch, his skin. She wondered if he ever thought those things about her. Since he had rescued her from Mr Morrell she’d found herself thinking of him as her knight in shining armour, and it was increasingly hard not to get carried away with it. He probably thought of her as some kid, if he even thought of her at all. She had seen him look at her mother before, when he thought no one was looking. Did he think about Lisa in the way Jasmine thought about him? She couldn’t stand the thought of it. She wished she was older; she wished she wasn’t invisible to him.