Page 82 of Best Wrong Thing

“We’ll still have fun.”

“I guess.”

He moves his hand towards mine and then snatches it back. “I’m sorry.”

What for? Almost touching me? Our ruined day? None of this is his fault. I roll my shoulders back. If I decide the trip is going to be terrible, it will be. I need to take a leaf out of Archer’s book and adopt a positive attitude. No doom and gloom. Despite Dad’s presence prohibiting us from being physically close, we’ll have fun.

I hope.

Dad sits on the wall between us, checking and triple-checking his rucksack and asking us to check ours like we’re a pair of teenagers rather than adults. On the coach, he takes the seat beside Archer to ‘get to know him’ while I sit silently seethingbehind them. At least the scenery is gorgeous once we’ve driven away from the built-up beach area into the more rugged interior.

Our first stop is a crater, which is breathtaking. Lush vegetation in every shade of green imaginable clings to the crater walls, getting denser within the basin. Our guide points out wild olive trees and white echium. Bees and butterflies dance around the tall, tower-like plants with dozens of tiny white flowers with pink centres. Kestrels wheel overhead, screeching and searching for prey.

We stand close to the guide, who regales us with information about the crater, but it’s hard to hear every detail because the chatty family with boyfriend drama is on the trip with us once more. This time, they’re talking about work woes.

“They’re very rude, speaking over the guide,” Dad says.

I don’t rise to the bait and instead do my best to focus on what the guide is saying. The crater was formed over five thousand years ago. To think we’re standing in such an ancient site. It’s amazing and humbling.

We take in the majesty of the crater, but too soon we’re herded onto the coach to travel to our next stop. This time, Dad sits with me.

“You’ve been quiet so far. Aren’t you enjoying the trip?” he asks.

“It’s great.” Was I enthusiastic enough?

“You might try smiling, then, rather than looking miserable.”

I clench my fist against my thigh.

Archer, who’s sitting across the aisle, offers me a smile.

“I’m taking it all in.” I try not to sound tense or pissed off.

“It’s a bit hard when some people are being inconsiderate. Honestly. Why go on a tour if you’re not listening to a thing the guide has to say?” Dad says.

“The scenery is breathtaking, even without the running commentary. I’m in awe of how beautiful this place is,” Archer says.

“Yes. Molly chose a beautiful location to come on holiday. It’s a shame she’s missing this trip.”

“I’m sure Mum’s happy at the villa.”

“Hmm. I’d better pick up a little gift for her while we’re out and about. Maybe you could help me choose something, Jacob.”

I stiffen. “Me?”

“Yes. Perhaps you can give her a present too. To show how grateful you are for this holiday.”

I tighten my fist. I didn’t ask Molly to arrange a holiday for the four of us. The only reason I came was Archer.

“I’ll help you choose something for Mum, Barry,” Archer says.

“That’s nice of you. At least one of you is considerate.”

Archer’s expression falls. He turns away and stares past the person he’s sitting next to out the window. I want to hug him and tell him I appreciate him trying to mediate between Dad and me and that it’s not his fault he failed. But I can’t. I can’t so much as graze his fingers or touch his knee. I can’t stand shoulder to shoulder with him, enjoying the magnificent views. I can’t talk to him freely.

After driving along a road lined with terraced fields and orchards, the coach pulls up alongside several others on the outskirts of Cruz de Tejeda. We have thirty minutes to explore, and everyone files off the bus. The small town is heaving with tourists, most congregating around the souvenir stalls or organising donkey rides. Dad steers Archer towards the stalls, no doubt to find something for Molly. Archer glances over his shoulder. His gaze radiates longing. My heart aches.

I wander in the opposite direction. Signs indicate walks of varying lengths and difficulty levels. The shortest is thirtyminutes, which would be cutting it fine to return in time. I don’t want to strand here, especially alone.