‘I wonder if the police station will still be open.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘So you can report the loss of your backpack. In case someone finds it.’
‘I think that’s highly unlikely. It didn’t look like the kind of cliff anyone would be climbing for fun.’
‘I can’t believe I did that. I feel awful.’
‘It doesn’t matter. Really...’
For a few moments they walked in silence. Dusk was really gathering now, and it was darker amongst the trees, so coming across a small herd of goats startled them both. The goats were even more startled and leapt off the track to scramble up through the forest, the sound of their bleating and bells astonishingly loud in the evening stillness.
‘Sorry, goats,’ Mika called, but she was laughing. She even had some colour in her cheeks when she turned towards Raoul. ‘I love Italy,’ she told him. ‘I might live here for ever.’
‘Oh? You’re not Italian, then?’
‘Huh? We’ve been talking English since we met. What makes you think I’m Italian?’
‘When I first heard you call for help, you spoke in Italian. And you’ve got a funny accent when you speak English.’
‘I do not.’ Mika sounded offended. ‘I can get by in Italian pretty well but English is my first language.’
‘So you are from England?’
‘No. I’m half-Maori, half-Scottish.’
‘You don’t sound Scottish.’
‘I’m not. I’m a Kiwi.’
Raoul shook his head. She was talking in riddles. Her smile suggested she was taking pity on him.
‘I come from New Zealand. Little country? At the bottom of the world?’
‘Oh...of course. I know it. I’ve seen the Lord of the Rings movies. It’s very beautiful.’
‘It is. What about you, Rafe?’
‘What about me?’ He was suddenly wary.
‘Rafe isn’t your real name, is it?’
The wariness kicked up a notch. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘You sounded like you were going to say something else when you introduced yourself, that’s all. Do you have a weird name or something?’ That cheeky grin flashed again. ‘Is Rafe short for Raphael?’
Relief that he hadn’t been unexpectedly recognised made him chuckle. ‘Um...something like that.’
‘Rafe it is, then. Are you Italian?’
‘No.’
‘How come you speak English with a funny accent, then?’
He had to laugh again. ‘I’m European. I speak several languages. My accent is never perfect.’
‘It’s actually pretty good.’ The concession felt like high praise. ‘Are you here on holiday?’
‘Yes. You?’
‘No, I’m working. I’m doing my OE.’
‘Oh-ee?’ The word was unfamiliar.
‘Overseas Experience. It’s a rite of passage for young New Zealanders.’
‘Oh...and is it something you have to do alone?’
‘Not necessarily.’
‘But you are doing it alone?’
‘Yep.’ Her tone suggested she wouldn’t welcome any further questions about her personal life. ‘Oh, look—civilisation.’
Sure enough, they had reached the outskirts of the mountain village. There was no real reason to stay with Mika any longer. She had completely recovered and she was safe. But Raoul was enjoying her company now and he had to admit he was curious. Mika was a world away from her homeland and she was alone.
Why?
They walked in silence for a while as they entered the village of Nocelle. Raoul’s eye was caught by big terracotta pots with red geraniums beneath a wooden sign hanging from a wrought-iron bar advertising this to be the Santa Croce ristorante and bar. Extending an invitation was automatic.
‘Can I buy you a coffee or something to eat? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving after that hike. We could get a bus down to Positano if it’s too dark to use the steps later.’
The invitation had been impulsive—a polite thing for a gentleman to do. It was only after he’d voiced it that Raoul realised how much he actually wanted Mika to agree.
He wanted to offer her food, not just because he was reluctant to give up her company—he wanted to look after her for a little while longer. To recapture that heart-warming sensation of winning the trust of somebody who needed his help although they would have preferred not to accept it.
It was just to make absolutely sure she was okay, of course. Nothing more. Hooking up with any young woman on this trip was an absolute no-no and, besides, he’d never be physically attracted to somebody like Mika. She was a tomboy, possibly the complete opposite to any woman he’d ever invited into his life or his bed—those picture-perfect blondes that knew how to pose for an unexpected photograph. Maybe that explained the fascination.
She was looking almost as wary as she had when he’d offered his hand to help her along the track and suddenly—to his horror—Raoul realised it might be better if she declined the invitation. He could feel the smile on his face freeze as he discreetly tried to pat the pocket on his shorts. He might have enough loose change to cover a bus fare for them both but it was highly unlikely that he could pay for a meal.
He was still smiling but Mika seemed to be reading his mind. A furrow appeared on her forehead.
‘Your wallet was in your backpack, wasn’t it? You don’t have any money, do you?’
‘Ah...’
‘What about your passport? And do you even have a place to stay?’
‘Um...’ The echo of the ‘I told you so’ vibe that he would very much prefer to avoid made him straighten his spine. ‘I’ll find somewhere.’
He found himself nodding. A short, decisive movement. Maybe this unfortunate occurrence was actually a blessing in disguise. Exactly the kind of challenge he needed to find out what he was made of. Whether he could cope with a bit of genuine adversity.
‘Do you have any friends around here?’
The nod morphed into a subtle shake, more of a head tilt, as the question unexpectedly captured Raoul on a deeper level. He’d never lacked for people desperate to be his friends but experience had taught him that
