Free Weeks in Naviras by Chris Wimpress Page B

seems more subdued here, her voice lower than before. ‘Would you like a brandy mel, darling?’
    I tell Lottie I’d very much like a brandy mel. She pats her hand twice on a barstool, before sliding off her own effortlessly and walking around the counter. She’s wearing yellow velvet heels; I just know they’ll never get dirty. She ch ooses a bottle from one of the shelves, picks up two dessert wine glasses.  ‘I’m surprised to see you here so soon,’ she says calmly, her eyes on the glasses as she pours. ‘Cheers.’
    ‘Cheers, Lottie,’ I take a sip. The taste of honey but not alcohol. But I think to myself; why drink brandy mel if you can’t get drunk?
    ‘So, what do you think?’ Lottie takes a step back away from the bar, gestures at herself and does a half twirl.
    ‘You look incredible, Lottie.’ It’s all I can say.
    ‘You know when I look like, from my life?’
    ‘When you first got this place, Lottie, I know. I can see it in your face.’
    She beams and immediately I want to kiss her, sort of dissolve into her. Everyone must do when she smiles like that, I think. She walks back around the bar slowly, sits down on the stool next to me, crossing her legs over.
    ‘Do you feel like you did then?’ I ask.
    She thinks for a moment. ‘No, I feel the same person inside as when…’ She doesn’t finish. ‘There’s lots about this place I keep remembering. You came out of the ocean, too? That was quite a surprise, I’d not been in the sea for years.’ She chuckles and it’s the same one I remember, the same scrunching of the eyes but no longer wrinkles. Endless Lottie, forever. Why would anyone want to leave?
    ‘What’s wrong darling?’ She’s eyeing me. ‘You’re not smiling.’
    ‘It’s just odd. I know you, but then I don’t.’ I’m struggling for the right words, knowing full-well Lottie can’t stand rudeness. I can tell she’s the same person I knew inside, at least. She looks away from me, over to the piano in the corner, smiles and nods at nothing. I follow her gaze; the old photo of the weather map isn’t there.
    ‘I think you get another go at things, if you want,’ she says.
    ‘Have you seen James.’
    ‘No, darling. Should I have?’
    ‘He died at the same time as me, Lottie,’ I wonder if she can read my face.
    ‘Well, he wouldn’t be here, would he, darling? He never really cared much for the village, that was patently obvious.’
    I put my hand on hers. It’s not warm, like I expect it to be. ‘I’m so happy to see you. The only other person I’ve met here who I know is Luis.’
    ‘Ah yes, lovely, lovely Luis. Interesting how he’s staying down at the beach bar, don’t you think? I must say I was surprised he didn’t find himself here.’
    ‘Did Luis not say?’
    She’s still looking at me directly. ‘I don’t think Luis is quite ready to be here, somehow. That’s why he won’t leave the beach.’
    ‘But he died on the beach. Well, in the sea.’
    Lottie nods. ‘After I’d been here for a while I went down to the slipway. It’s lovely in the village, have you noticed? That part of the day when it’s still sunny but not too hot?’
    ‘I know.’
    ‘When I got back down to the beach bar Luis walked in from the terrace, we said hello and it was all very nice, I told him what it was like up here at the house, and I said he should come with me. But he said he’d just stay for a bit longer and come up later. When I heard footsteps on the gravel outside I thought it would be him coming through that door, instead it was you.’
    ‘But Luis seems happy,’ I say. It didn’t quite sound like a question.
    ‘Of course he is! You’ll be too, once you get used to it. And after all, Luis has plenty of time to come up when he feels like it.’
    I take another sip, wondering whether to mention Luis’s odd detachment from me. ‘I guess there’s a few things we need to talk about,’ I say.
    Lottie shakes her head, looks at me intently. ‘No, darling,