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They spent a long time in bed over the next twenty-four hours. Only the need for the bathroom or food coaxed them out of it.

The morning they were due to leave, they showered and dressed and Zeph gave a sigh as he looked around the room. He’d never come back here but the memories…

“We could take the clean sheets, pillows and towels,” Jack told him. “They might be useful. You okay to lose everything that’s left?”

“The duvet can be chucked. It was an old one anyway. And you made me come all over it. So many times!”

“Sorry.”

“Are you?”

“No.” Jack smirked. “I’ll get the car.”

By the time Jack pulled up, Zeph was waiting outside. He’d left his keys with Lester who’d hand them in with his when he left at the end of the month. Jack got out to help him load up.

“What’s in there?” Zeph nodded towards a cardboard box in the boot.

“Requirements to drive in France in case we break down.”

They laid their suit bags on top of everything. It seemed a bit mad to take the tuxedos but a waste not to.

“They might come in useful,” Jack said as he got back in the car.

Zeph doubted it.

Jack glanced at him. “One night we might put them on and go for a meal. I’ll dare you.”

And didn’t that make Zeph’s heart sing!

Before they left Cambridge, Jack stopped at a supermarket to buy snacks and drinks for the journey. Zeph insisted on paying and topped up the car with fuel.

“Where are we heading?”

“A place called Villers-sur-mer. I booked an Airbnb for the night. We can chat about where we’d like to go after that.”

As they reached the motorway, Zeph said, “Are we there yet?”

“Let that be the last time you ask that question.”

“Or?”

“Or else.”

Jack was navigating with his phone, though there was a sat nav screen in the car.

“Like to listen to a podcast?” Zeph asked.

“Why not?”

Zeph checked on his phone. “Beef and Dairy Network? Cereal? Barn door maintenance? There’s plenty of choice. Which one?”

“Remind me why I like you.”

Zeph laughed. “What about an Ologies Podcast on drunk butterflies or slug sex? The woman that does those is very funny. Or we could record our own.”

“What would we talk about?”

“Things we don’t know about each other?”

“You start. But don’t record.”

“I love maths and animals. I hate football and rugby. I don’t believe in God.

I don’t like beards. Or cigarettes. I love bread.

Warm bread in particular. But warm milk makes me heave.

I like reading thrillers. I have a particular interest in Scandinavian serial killers.

Well, not the killer, but the policemen who catch them.

I don’t like celebrity autobiographies. I don’t think most famous people’s lives are anywhere near as interesting as they think.

My favourite book at the moment is The Penguin Lessons.

But that changes monthly. My favourite colour is blue and its many shades.

And I… I had cancer when I was a little kid. ”

Jack shot him a look. “Really? You don’t like beards?”

Zeph snorted. Jack’s hand slid onto his knee. “What sort of cancer?”

“Ewings sarcoma. Bone cancer. My leg.”

“Ah. The scar. You’re okay now?”

“Yes. I can’t say cured because no doctor can promise cancer will never come back, so I’m in remission.”

“You seem very…accepting.”

“What’s the point in being otherwise? I’m not going to spend my life worrying about stuff that might never happen.”

Jack squeezed his knee, then put his hand back on the wheel. “You’re very interesting. Tell me more.”

“My mum used to arrange the most fantastic birthday parties. I had a pirate-themed one where she’d made two ships out of cardboard and we painted them.

They were big enough for me and my friends to hide behind and we shot at each other with water pistols.

I had a dinosaur party and she let me paint the walls in the dining room because she was going to decorate after.

She drew the dinosaurs and I applied the paint.

There’s a picture of me doing it. I was naked. ”

“Is there? Right.”

Zeph chuckled. “She had to buy some special paint because the dinosaurs kept coming through the emulsion she applied. And the birthday cakes… I remember every single one of them. Before she died, she made an album of pictures of me and her, and the cakes. She could have organised birthday parties and made cakes for a living.”

“What did she do?”

“Maths teacher. I suppose I get my love of maths from her. And the piano. She was…” Zeph’s voice broke. “I still miss her. My life would have been so different if she’d been in it.”

“What about your dad?”

“I’m not sure he ever really liked me. I was a disappointment.

He’s mad keen on sports and I’m not. I preferred doing puzzles and reading to watching football on the TV.

He bought me a Man United kit but I wouldn’t wear it.

He gave up then. Mum made up for his lack of interest but once she’d died, I was an inconvenience.

I know it takes two to have a conversation, but he’s never made any attempt to get in touch with me since I left.

” Zeph paused. “That sounds like I want him to get in touch when I don’t. ”

“Sure?”

“Absolutely. Do you remember your mum and dad?”

“My father was a…bad man. My mother drank too much and took drugs. I used to hide from them. They hit me.”

“How young were you when they died?”

“Six.”

“Were your parents the reason you’re in witness protection?”

Jack shook his head.

Three more shakes of the head to subsequent questions and Zeph got the hint. The chat was one way.

Between chats and podcasts and music—slug sex was awesome—time passed quickly.

Jack suggested they drive down the west coast of France and found somewhere to stay for a longer period and Zeph was fine with that.

Once they were in France, he googled places while Jack was behind the wheel, then Zeph took over.

Jack found somewhere and booked it. Zeph didn’t mind going with Jack’s suggestion, but when Jack described the house he picked, it didn’t seem much different from any Zeph had looked at.

“I wish you could talk about yourself more,” Zeph said quietly.

“You know why I can’t.”

He did. If Jack had been a leading expert in something unusual, such as…feathers, or slug sex, and Zeph had mentioned that to someone, who’d told someone else and so on, it could lead to Jack being located. The littlest detail could result in disaster. Chaos theory in all its mathematical glory.

“Do you think there’s a name for someone who knows a lot about feathers?” Zeph asked.

“Plumologist? Is there a name for someone who asks weird questions?”

“I think it begins with Z.”

Jack laughed. “The place I booked before we left is coming up soon on the right. If we don’t like the look of it, we’ll drive on.”

“It will be fine. All we need is a bed.”

“Do we need a bed?”

Now Zeph laughed.

Villers-sur-mer was a small French coastal town. The rental was west of the settlement and Zeph parked next to it.

“Wow, it’s windy,” Zeph said as they climbed out of the car.

“Not cold though.”

Jack put a code into a box by the door to get a key, then they carried their bags inside.

“Oh, it’s lovely.” Zeph walked through the open plan room to the bank of windows at the rear. “Did you know that was there?”

Jack came up behind him and put his arms around him. Zeph sighed and leaned back.

“The sea?” Jack asked.

“Ha ha. The hot tub in the garden.”

“I might have done.”

“Turn it on,” Zeph said in a husky voice. “Now.”

Jack chuckled. “It’s already on. Let’s change into shorts and go and get something to eat. We can walk down to the town. I’ll put a couple of beers in the fridge for later.”

It seemed hardly possible that not long ago they were eating crisps in the Channel tunnel and now they were on holiday in another country.

They sat outside a seafront restaurant and decided on moules frites—mussels steamed in white wine, butter and shallots, served with Dijon mayonnaise and crispy frites.

Sitting in a warm breeze, eating delicious food and looking out to sea as they ate, and most importantly with Jack’s leg pressed against his, was such an exquisite moment, that Zeph could have burst with happiness.

“This town is famous for a few things,” Jack said.

“The moules and the frites? Oh, and the shenanigans in the hot tub up the road? Do people come from miles around?”

Jack raised his eyebrows. “Who uses the word shenanigans ? I was referring to the long sandy beach, the Vaches-Noires cliffs and their Jurassic fossils, sand yachting and paragliding. And fine, possibly some shenanigans in a hot tub.”

“Can we go for a walk on the beach before we go back?”

“While we anticipate the excitement of the shenanigans to follow?”

“You’ve said it three times!”

Jack rubbed his foot against Zeph’s calf. “It’s catching. You’re catching.”

Zeph was impressed by Jack’s French. He spoke to the waiter in French and was so fast that Zeph only caught a little of the conversation.

When they’d finished eating, Jack paid in cash, though Zeph had taken out his card, and they made their way down onto the beach.

“The waiter said to look for fossils towards the black rocks area, that’s below where we’re staying. The tide’s going out so we’re not going to get trapped. We’re not allowed to climb the cliffs or dig into them.”

It was mid-afternoon and the beach was still quite busy. They headed towards the rocky area occasionally brushing hands and each time that happened, Zeph’s heart did a little skip.

“You do realise we’re not going back until we’ve both found a fossil,” Zeph said.

Jack picked up a shell. “Oh look.”

“That’s not fossilised.”

He picked up another one. “This one is.”

“Oh, it is. Well done. Not very interesting though.”

“What are you hoping for?”

“A complete pliosaur, or maybe an ichthyosaur.”

“I’ll sit and watch while you search.”

“Fine.”

Several minutes later, Zeph went back to the rock where Jack was sitting and dropped down next to him.

“No luck?”

“No…oh! Bloody hell.” He picked up an ammonite from by Jack’s foot. “Wow.” Then he frowned. “Did you find that and put it there?”

“No.”

“Is that no meaning yes?”

Jack laughed. “Can we go back now?”

Zeph nodded and pocketed the ammonite. He’d only taken a few steps when he saw a shark’s tooth. He put his hand out to stop Jack stepping on it.

“What?” Jack asked,

“A tooth.” He picked it up and held it out on his palm. It was a fossilised shark’s tooth but… “The rest of the pliosaur should be buried right here. Find me a shovel.”

“Leave the poor thing alone in its grave.”

As they headed back, they passed a collection of land yachts. There were a few in use on the sand closer to the sea.

“Have you ever tried that?” Jack asked.

Zeph shook his head.

“Want to?”

“Okay.”

Though by the time Zeph had been kitted out in safety gear—helmet, knee and elbow pads—and he’d heard there were no brakes, he was a little freaked out.

Jack was clearly excited so Zeph pretended he was too.

Jack repeated in English what the instructor had said.

The movement of the feet determined direction.

The arms controlled the sail to regulate the speed. Zeph thought that was it.

The most important one was turn into the wind to stop.

Or maybe it was the “Don’t go too fast” that Jack shouted as Zeph zoomed off down the beach.

Once Zeph got the hang of it, he loved it.

Jack quickly pulled ahead, but Zeph was happy following.

It was exhilarating and sometimes terrifying when the yacht tipped and Zeph thought it was going to go all the way over before it righted itself.

Jack whooped when it happened to him. They spent an hour going up and down the sand and finally returned the vehicles to the start.

Jack slung his arm over Zeph’s shoulder as they walked away. “That was fun.”

“It was.”

“The sun’s caught you.”

I think you did that.