Eric glances at her. “You look exhausted, have a seat.”

She lowers herself onto a stone wall that’s covered with pink flowers shaped like little stars. Eric extracts a couple of beers from a cooler in the shade of the wall, flips off the tops, and hands her one. She holds the cold bottle against her neck. Eric seems kind—a kind, thoughtful man. She wonders if Eve sees that still; it’s so easy to take things for granted, lose sight of what you have. Something is happening to her and Martin, a space opening between them that is widening all the time. It’s hard to tell which one of them is moving away or how to close it up. Eric sits next to her with a little sigh.

“You’ll have to forgive us,” he says after a while. “We allow our kids a lot of freedom; it goes to their heads sometimes, especially here. Eve’s very trusting. She thinks everyone is fundamentally good, that children are born moral, corrupted later.”

“And you?”

“The opposite. Children are born barbarians and need to be tamed. My own are probably the worst.” He leans forward to pick up a stone that has fallen from the wall then kneels to wedge it back. Was that a joke? She can’t see his face; another stone falls out and a large beetle with horned antennae tumbles to the paving and scuttles into the shade.

“We’re so lucky to have this place, the children love coming here; but there’s always something to do. Little things that don’t seem important at the time but they add up.” He forces the second stone back into place. “Eve says I fuss too much.”

“It all looks perfect to me.” Grace wipes her sweating face.

“That’s because you can’t see what’s happening; we’ll arrive one day to find the house is a heap of stones in the dust, and that the insects have taken over.” He glances at her and smiles. “I’m joking, don’t look so worried.” He sits next to her again. “Blake’s a good lad, by the way; he’s been helping me prune the olive trees.”

“That’s wonderful; he’d love doing that.” She smiles, feeling more cheerful. “Martin’s been so focused on his writing recently, and I’ve been busy with long shifts.” And sidetracked by fear; it’s all she can do to survive, let alone concentrate on her children. “We haven’t been there for him as much as we should.”

“He reminds me a bit of myself at his age; it made all the difference to me when I discovered I was good with my hands. There are plenty more trees that need pruning at home if he wants.” He smiles down at her. “Now, that swim. I’ll grab your case.” He disappears, jogging lightly through the trees. The glass plates chime in the silence. She looks at the water by her feet, seeing Sorrel’s face with her eyes shut and mouth open, gasping for breath before she was pushed under again. How much longer would it have continued if Eric hadn’t spotted them?