Page 25 of The House on Sunset Lake

Her mother stayed rooted to the spot and gave her a cool stare.

‘So what are your plans now?’ she asked crisply. ‘When will you be returning to New York?’

Jennifer knew what she was really saying. Connor’s new job, an entry-level position at Goldman Sachs in New York, started in a few weeks.

‘I thought I’d hang out in Savannah for a little while,’ she said vaguely.

‘And do what?’ asked her mother, her pale cheeks reddening noticeably.

She heard a sound to her left and saw that Bryn Johnson was listening to them.

‘Kids have got to find themselves,’ he smiled, popping a honey-roasted pecan into his mouth and taking a few steps forward to join the conversation. ‘After Cambridge, I bummed around London, Paris with my little notebook, writing down my thoughts, lines of poetry, observations. I didn’t know if I wanted to be the new T. S. Eliot, Hemingway or Joseph Pulitzer, but what I had was a passion to write, and until I’d let that percolate, I didn’t have any purpose. Passion and purpose, the two things you need in life to be successful,’ he said, winking at them both.

‘Let her percolate this summer,’ he added, directing his attention towards Sylvia. ‘She won’t regret it.’

Jennifer grinned at him, welcoming the relief in the tension. Sylvia looked less impressed and excused herself to go and refill her glass.

‘Speaking of aimless youth, have you seen my son?’ Bryn said, looking around. Darkness had fallen quickly, and the grounds of Casa D’Or disappeared into the shadows.

‘I think he’s gone back to watch the football,’ smiled Elizabeth Johnson, joining them.

Bryn snorted. ‘No idea what the appeal is in the World Cup after England failed to qualify. And tell me, why on earth is America hosting the tournament when you don’t even play?’

‘He’s gone back to the Lake House?’ said Jennifer, glancing around for him.

‘I’m sure he meant to say goodbye,’ said his mother apologetically.

‘Which way did he go?’ said Jennifer, frowning. She hadn’t seen him leave through the terrace, and the French doors were shut.

‘The quick way, no doubt,’ smiled his mother, sipping her gin and tonic and pointing towards the water.

‘Excuse me,’ muttered Jennifer under her breath as she grabbed one of the hurricane lamps from the table and walked towards the lake, her pace quickening over the manicured lawn.

The grass underfoot began to get longer and squelchier the closer she got to the water. It was darker out here too. Little light from the house made it this far. She could hear the evening breeze blowing through the bulrushes and she spotted an outline retreating in the night.

‘Jim, stop!’ she shouted.

He halted and turned around. He didn’t say anything, just stood there motionless as she ran towards him, his face becoming clearer in the light of her hurricane lamp.

‘Don’t go that way,’ she said when she reached him.

‘Why not?’ He looked at her through the soft amber glow. They were just a few feet apart now, and his eyes seemed to challenge her.

‘Gators. You sometimes get them around here.’

‘Alligators?’ he said with a low, soft laugh. ‘I thought this place was civilised.’

The moon was out now, and a shaft of silvery light caught his face. For a second he looked like a movie star, like a black-and-white James Dean still she’d had pinned on her wall at college, although she was not going to tell him that.

‘You get them all around here,’ she said, aware of the nervous tremor that had suddenly appeared in her voice. ‘From Texas to the Carolinas. This is the South, and sometimes it can be wild,’ she added, keeping her voice low.

‘Do they bite?’

‘The females are the worst,’ she said, folding her arms defiantly in front of her.

‘It’s often the way,’ he replied with the hint of a smile.

Jennifer gave him a stern look. ‘They’re lazy predators, but if the mothers have got hatchlings with them, or if they’re hungry, you wouldn’t last a minute. They’ve got teeth the size of a Tic Tac packet.’