Pictures of Lily

from the hillside and clamber for views of the water. The Spit Bridge is being raised as we approach and once we’re through, Ben climbs onto the deck and goes to the mast to raise the sails. I watch, full of admiration and respect as two lime-green sails billow out. There’s something very sexy about seeing him in this context. The wind picks up and I laugh as my hair whips around my face. Ben returns to the stern and cuts the engine. I look across at him, feeling jittery.
    After a while we sail into the shallower waters of a secluded bay.
    ‘You don’t get seasick, do you?’ he asks.
    ‘No. At least, I don’t think so.’
    He climbs back onto the deck and drops the sails, followed by the anchor. ‘You’ll know once we rock here for a while. I’ll nip below and make us a cuppa.’ He returns to the cockpit, then jumps down into the cabin. ‘You want one?’ he calls up to me. I go to the cabin and peer inside.
    ‘Sure, that’d be great. Aah, it’s been so long since you’ve made me tea.’
    It’s only a small cabin but there’s a sink, a tiny gas-fired stove and a toilet plus a bed at the back, which I assume forms a table and bench seats when it’s not being slept on.
    ‘Do you ever sleep in here?’ I ask curiously.
    ‘Sometimes,’ he says, glancing at the bed. ‘But not often. I couldn’t be bothered to turn it back into a table again.’
    ‘Typical man.’
    He raises his eyebrows in amusement. ‘Here you go.’ He hands over a mug. Milk and one sugar, just like always.
    ‘Impressive memory,’ I comment.
    ‘Do you remember how I take mine?’ he asks.
    ‘Milk, two sugars.’ He grins, then I add: ‘I just saw you do it.’ I crack up laughing and step out of his way as he pretend-barges past me on his return to the cockpit.
    I actually do remember. Of course I do. I even know that he likes two and a quarter sugars if he’s drinking his tea and eating something sweet at the same time. And you have to stir it really well, otherwise he adds more sugar anyway. But I’m not going to tell him all that. I watch as he opens the hamper.
    ‘Are you hungry?’ he asks.
    ‘A bit.’
    ‘I’m starving.’
    ‘You’re always starving, Benjamin.’ I laugh at his face and go to sit opposite him again. ‘Is that your real name – Benjamin?’
    ‘Only my mother calls me Benjamin.’
    ‘And Marco.’
    ‘Yes, and Marco.’ He rolls his eyes good-naturedly. ‘My nan could sometimes get away with Benji.’
    ‘Cute!’
    He chuckles and gets out sandwiches. ‘We’ve got ham and mustard, cheese and pickle, tuna mayo . . . What do you feel like?’
    ‘Cheese and pickle, please.’ The boat is rocking, but I’m not feeling sick yet. I open up the aluminium foil to reveal a sandwich made on thick-cut white bread which I’m pretty sure Ben sliced himself from a loaf.
    ‘Did you make these yourself?’ I ask.
    ‘Yeah,’ he replies, a touch defensively.
    We chat between mouthfuls. ‘Can you cook?’ I want to know.
    He shrugs. ‘A bit – when I can be bothered. It’s not much fun when you don’t have anyone to cook for.’
    ‘Did you used to cook for Charlotte?’
    ‘Sometimes. Especially if she was late back from work or something like that.’
    ‘What did she do? What does she do?’
    ‘She’s a financial analyst.’
    ‘I can never understand what that means.’
    ‘I won’t bore you by trying to explain. I’d probably get it wrong anyway.’
    ‘It sounds impressive. Is she successful?’
    ‘She’s good at what she does, yes.’
    ‘Are you still in touch with her?’
    ‘We speak now and again.’
    I put my half-eaten sandwich to one side. ‘Did you leave on bad terms?’
    ‘Not really. But we weren’t exactly the best of friends, either. No point in dragging it out.’
    ‘Is she with anyone else?’
    ‘She’s had a couple of boyfriends, as far as I know. I don’t think any of them have been serious. Don’t you ever eat much?’ He nods at my sandwich.
    ‘Yeah. I do have an appetite, just not when I’m with you.’
    ‘Do I put you off your food?’
    I give him a look of pretend distaste. ‘Yeah, you do a bit.’
    ‘Huh!’ he grumbles, and I laugh. ‘Did you bring your camera today?’
    ‘I did, actually.’ I bend down and pull my bag up onto the seat, getting out my old friend.
    He smiles. ‘Have you thought about getting a smaller one?’
    ‘I should switch to digital,’ I concede. ‘But I’ve only just got back into it. I wouldn’t know where to