I had held out as long as I could, but there was no getting out of it. The catcalls were rising; the baying, cackling audience of under-11s intoxicated by a combination of ice-cream sugar rushes and my obvious, clammy fear. It was day 14 of a two-week summer holiday, and our final afternoon in blissful 30C Corsican sunshine. I just needed one more chapter, lounging with my book, soaking in the last of the bone-warming sun slowly edging down towards the island’s dramatic mountainous spine.
But my calculating offspring had not forgotten ill-fated promises made on a previous evening, probably a little too deep into the second carafe. I was probably caught off-guard at Barny’s, a sensational sushi restaurant in the town of Ghisonaccia, enjoying our best meal of the holiday. They know when my defences are down; when I’m fully relaxed into holiday “yes” mode, and prime for being taken advantage of.
