Ethan tore a bunch of dark grapes from the vine, picked the biggest one and put it in his mouth. He bit into it, the juice sweet and sharp on his tongue, chewing slowly to savour the taste. Turning away from Jake and spitting the pips on the ground before plucking another from the bunch, savouring the pop as the grape burst between his teeth. Pluck, chew, spit, repeat. He’d never been in a vineyard before. He’d never eaten grapes straight off the vine before, either. Always from the supermarket packet, always washed and rinsed because Jen – calling her that instead of Mum wound her up a treat – insisted they were washed, never eaten when they were even slightly soft or had been left out of the fridge or might have had flies buzzing around them.

The still afternoon heat was brutal. He and his brother were in the middle of the vineyard down the hill from the villa, stretched out in the shade of a row of vines bushy with green leaves and fat red grapes. It was more private here; they couldn’t be seen from any of the balconies unless they stood up.

Ethan propped himself up on one elbow, plucking another bunch of grapes from the nearest stem.

‘So,’ he said, ‘are you going to ask her then?’

‘Ask her what?’ Jake said.

‘You know.’

‘Nope.’

Ethan slid a grape between his lips.

‘Whether she’s with anyone.’

‘What the fuck do you know about it? About girls? About anything?’

Ethan shrugged. It was one of his brother’s sure-fire wind-ups: girls. Wind him up and watch him go, and if he stood close enough when Jake kicked off, maybe – just maybe – Mum would notice him, too. He ran through a few options: straight to the point; or maybe the rumour about Rosie’s party; or the rich rugby boy; or go for the nuclear option? Nah. That was best kept for another time. Might as well get straight to the point.

‘So do you fancy her?’

‘Fuck off,’ Jake said.

‘You do, don’t you?’

‘Fuck. OFF.’

‘That’s a yes, then.’

‘You’ve got literally no idea what you’re talking about. You haven’t got the first clue what I do or don’t think.’

‘Right.’

‘You’re such a twat.’

‘Oh, I’m a twat? That’s brilliant.’ Ethan reached for a lie with enough weight to do some damage. ‘I’m not the one making a twat of myself over some girl who’s done every lad in Year 11.’

Jake’s head snapped around.

‘Say that again.’

Ethan shrugged again.

‘Just saying what I’ve heard.’

‘You heard wrong,’ Jake said. ‘Way wrong. That’s total bollocks, what you’ve heard about her.’

‘OK, fair enough.’ Ethan paused a beat. ‘So you do fancy her, then?’