‘Ice cream. You?’

‘Pringles. Once you pop.’

It was easy to talk about the inconsequential, ignoring the spark between us. I wasn’t sure if Adam could feel it too. He told me when he was growing up, he was obsessed with Eighties music and films.

‘I loved Back to the Future with Michael J. Fox,’ I said. ‘Was that the Eighties?’

‘Yep. Everyone loves Marty.’ Unabashed, Adam began to sing ‘The Power of Love’ from the movie. I joined in the chorus, knowing that everyone here was a stranger, probably never to be seen again.

‘So I know where you’d go if you could travel in time. Or what era anyway. The Eighties in…’ I appraised him. ‘America? Hollywood?’

‘Because I have film-star good looks?’ Adam smoothed back his hair.

‘I was thinking more about you seeing where they made movies rather than starring in them,’ I laughed.

‘No offence taken.’ Adam pretended to dab a tear with his napkin. ‘I’d like to see America. I’d like to see all the places I sell tickets to.’ He caught my expression. ‘I’m a travel agent.’

‘That sounds interesting.’

‘It’s a means to an end. I’ve been saving to see the world and working there has meant I can plan it all out properly, and get a staff discount. I leave next month.’

I fixed my smile in place. There was no reason for me to be disappointed. It’s not like I’d see him again after this holiday, but melancholy settled heavily in my stomach once I knew that we wouldn’t even be in the same country.

I stretched my mouth into a smile. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Thailand, Italy, China. India. Everywhere. I want to see it all. Everything. I’m a frustrated Christopher Columbus. Tell me something about you, Anna Adlington.’

‘I can play flute up to Grade 4.’ I watched his face for his reaction. ‘You look underwhelmed. Okay, you’ll be blown away by this one.’

Adam drummed the table with his fingertips.

‘I know the offside rule,’ I said triumphantly.

‘I am impressed!’

I knew he would be; he’d mentioned he loved football. We continued chatting about the superficial. The things that are easy to share. But even then there was something more to us. Something deeper. An affinity I was trying so hard to ignore. My rational mind kept pointing out that he was leaving in a month.

This is not a date.

‘I want to show you something,’ Adam said after we’d split the bill. We left the restaurant and headed away from our resort past various bars. Vendors attempting to entice us inside with promises of half-price pitchers and cheap cocktails.

‘Come, come. Photo. Photo.’ A man ushered us over to a lonely parrot perched inside a cage too small for him to spread his wings. A cage whose stench made my stomach roil. ‘You pay. I take picture.’