After the Honeymoon (28 page)

He looked up to find Rosie Harrison had planted herself next to him. She’d been moving, he’d noticed, from one guest to the other, making sure everyone was all right. Now her startling green-blue eyes were searching his face.

Winston nodded, looking for the right words which would be both polite and accurate. ‘It’s a break,’ he said, looking across to Jack, who was busy handing out tumblers of ouzo to everyone. He worked hard, he’d give him that. Alice could do with getting off her butt and having a holiday job, but Melissa said she was too young. ‘Is your son all right?’

Rosie Harrison shrugged. ‘Bruised. Alice is still upset because she thinks he was “paid” to be with her. He’s tried explaining that he really likes her but she won’t listen.’ She gave him a quizzical look. ‘Quite a stubborn girl for her age, isn’t she?’

He nodded. ‘Like her mother,’ he said, without meaning to.

She was looking at him sharply now. Flustered, he tried to change the subject. ‘So tell me, Mrs Harrison, how did you end up here?’

‘Rosie, please,’ she reminded him.

She was looking away now, over the water towards the small island in the distance, a glow of red creeping over her cheek. ‘I went travelling after school and met Cara. She’s the other owner of the villa; we’re co-partners.’

Interesting! Was she the elderly wrinkled woman in the red headscarf who’d turned up yesterday? Winston felt a creeping curiosity. ‘So how many years have you been here?’

Rosie Harrison was getting very red now. ‘More than fifteen.’

Winston made a quick mental calculation. So she’d either arrived when she was pregnant with the boy or had got pregnant soon after. He glanced at the Greek fisherman who was sitting at the wheel, his back very straight. Was he the father?

‘And where did you grow up?’

His question, innocuous as it was, appeared to nettle her. She was getting up now, smoothing down her shorts (women, in his experience, always fiddled with their clothes when they felt nervous, much as men tended to straighten their ties) and calling out to Jack that they needed some juice over here.

‘In the South-West,’ she threw over her shoulder.

‘Really? I did my training there …’

He stopped, his words lost as an unexpected gust of wind tipped the boat sharply to one side, sending plastic tumblers scattering all over the deck. There was a collective gasp, including a little scream from the blonde bride.

The Greek was wrestling with the wheel. ‘It ees nothing to worry about,’ he yelled out over his shoulder. ‘Just a squall, that is all.’

Winston’s eyes narrowed at the sky, which had grown quite dark during his short conversation with Rosie Harrison.

The waves were rocking the boat even harder now, tipping them from side to side. He made to take Melissa’s hand but she’d already moved towards the kids, who were jumping up and down as though this was some kind of entertainment put on for their amusement.

‘You must sit,’ roared the Greek oik, ‘or you will change the balance on the boat.’

‘Mum!’ Alice was gripping the edge. ‘I’m scared.’

Rubbish. She was only trying to get attention. She was texting one-handed now, no doubt sending a minute-by-minute account to her friends. Then the boat heaved again as another wave hit it, sending him lurching against the blonde bride.

She grabbed him, her nails cutting through into his flesh. ‘I’m not a strong swimmer. You don’t think we’re going to capsize, do you?’

Possibly. Why the fuck hadn’t Mr Greek Charmer there distributed the lifebelts? He made for the chest, but as he did so, there was a blood-curdling scream.

‘My phone! It’s slipped into the water. Help me, someone!’

Melissa was hurling herself towards her daughter. ‘Leave it. Do you hear me? Leave it!’

Stupid, stupid girl! She was going to jump in. Oh my God. There was a gigantic splash. ‘Alice!’ screamed his wife.

But it wasn’t Alice. It was her brother who had jumped in, trying to save his sister’s phone. Without thinking, Winston kicked off his sandals and dived in after him. The sea was rough, reminding him of a training exercise where he hadn’t done as well as the others.

Better on land than the water
, his report had read. That was because you knew where you were on firm earth. The sea could be a devil. A demon that might finally finish him and Melissa unless he could rescue the boy.

Where the hell was he? Winston couldn’t see anything through the waves, which were buffeting him all over the place. Dimly he could hear Melissa screaming. Or was that the wind? Taking a deep breath, he swam down below the surface of the water, opening his eyes to scan the blue-and-green underworld.

Nothing.

You can’t fail, he told himself. This wasn’t just about Melissa now. It was about saving a kid’s life.

Doing what he hadn’t been able to do with Nick.

He rose to the surface, gulping in air and scanning the water in case Freddie had come up without him knowing.

‘Can you see him?’ Melissa was yelling through the wind. At least, that’s what it sounded like. Her face was contorted with fear. She needed him. He couldn’t let her down.

Unable to answer, Winston dived down again. Maybe Freddie had hit his head on the side of the boat. If so, he’d probably had it. He’d have been underwater for too long. Melissa would never manage if something happened to one of her children.

Nor would he.

Up again for more air. Someone was shouting. The Greek. He had a pair of binoculars in his hand and was pointing at a bit of wood that was floating some distance off. Bloody hell. It was Freddie. Winston lashed his way through the waves, imagining that he was cutting swathes through the enemy. He could feel a dull pain in his knee but it wasn’t important. All that mattered was getting to the boy who, he could see now, was hanging on to the plank of wood and crying.

Nearly there now. Nearly there.

‘It’s all right,’ he gasped. ‘Hang on to me.’

Freddie was shaking his head, still gripping the wood.

‘You’ve got to trust me.’

The same words he had used to Nick came out of his mouth as though they had been sitting there, waiting for a second chance.

‘I’m … too … scared … to … let … go.’

There was another wave coming. A big one. ‘If you want to see your mum again, you’ve got to let me grab you. OK?’

The boy nodded, tears streaming down his face.

‘I promise it will be all right.’

Again, exactly what he’d said to Nick. But this time, it had to be true. He couldn’t fail twice.

Just in time, Winston took the boy in his arms before the next wave smashed into him. Cupping one hand under his chin and using his left arm to hook under the boy’s armpit and round his chest, he began to swim back to the boat, keeping Freddie on his back, his face above water.

It was difficult to see where they were going, swimming backwards like this, but miraculously the waves had started to calm down and the sky was beginning to lighten overhead as though nature had given up its fight.

Through his exhaustion, Winston was dimly conscious of a deep voice calling out, ‘We will help you up.’

Greco! Thank God. He was throwing them a rope from the boat, which was still a way off. ‘Grab it,’ urged Winston but the boy was too weak. There was nothing for it but to continue holding Freddie while swimming backwards.

‘You’re here now. Hang on to me,’ he heard the Greek say.

Summoning up all his strength, he held Freddie up for the fisherman to grab. Shit, he was slipping. ‘Take him, man, can you?’ Winston spluttered.

Yes. At last, Greco had him and was hauling him over the side. Then he reached out his arms to Winston.

Ignoring them, he heaved himself up and clambered over into the stern.

Winston hardly heard the round of clapping. It was his stepson he was looking for. ‘Are you all right?’

Melissa had a towel around her son and was clasping him to her. The boy was crying into her chest. If he could do that, he was probably OK. Then Freddie looked up at Winston.

‘Thank you,’ he sobbed.

Melissa’s eyes locked with his. ‘You did it,’ she said, with a look of total adoration. Then she kissed him. Full on the lips. ‘My hero.’

‘My ex texted to ask if I’d have a drink with him when I got back. I said yes.’

Anonymous

EMMA

Even when Freddie was safely back on the boat, Emma couldn’t stop shaking. In fact, it was worse now that the drama was over. Maybe it was shock.

When Melissa’s son had gone overboard like that, she’d thought he was just playing around like kids do and would climb back on. But when Winston had dived in she’d realised it was serious.

Then she’d got into a worse state than Melissa, who was just sitting there, horribly quiet, eyes glued to Winston as he swam around, looking for her son.

She’d tried to comfort her new friend. ‘It will be all right,’ she’d said, taking her hand. But her words came out all wobbly and weren’t, she could see, any help at all. The awful thing was that inside, she felt an enormous surge of relief. What if she and Tom had brought the children on their honeymoon and it had been Gawain or Willow out there? She would have gone to pieces. Yet Melissa just sat quite straight, her gaze steadily focussed on the distant black blob that was Winston amidst the waves that had swallowed up Freddie. Not saying a thing.

Alice, on the other hand, was whimpering. ‘Is he going to be all right, Mum?’

Melissa’s voice could hardly be heard above the wind, but it sounded like ‘He’s got to be.’

Then, all of a sudden, there they were! Winston swimming boldly through the waves on his back, holding Freddie under his chin.

They were safe! Emma could hardly believe it when – after that terrifying last slip – Greco helped to yank Freddie over the side of the boat and then Winston clambered up too.

Such courage! Such amazing strength in those muscles …

Melissa was crying now as she clung on to her son and husband. Emma edged away, not wanting to intrude. ‘Did you find my phone?’ demanded Alice, tugging at her brother’s soaking-wet tee-shirt.

Little monkey.

Ironically, the waves were beginning to subside and the sun was actually coming out. But they could all have died if the boat had capsized. Emma felt a thrill of panic in her chest. How would the children have managed without her if she had drowned? Tom wouldn’t be any good at bringing them up on his own. Mum would help, of course, but it wouldn’t be the same. Dear Lord, it made her feel physically sick to think of it.

‘You are shaking, I theenk.’ For a moment, Emma thought it was Greco talking but then realised it was Yannis. Hadn’t someone said he was Greco’s cousin? They certainly looked similar.

She hadn’t even realised he was on board, but now he was putting a dry towel round her. Until then, she’d hardly noticed that her shorts and tee-shirt were soaked through.

‘They were so lucky,’ Emma tried to say, although her teeth were chattering so much that the words came out in a muddle. Yannis, whose English was really rather good, seemed to understand her, though.

‘Yes. They were.’ He nodded at Winston, who had one arm around Melissa and the other round Freddie. ‘But he is strong man, I think. Here, take this.’

He handed her a small glass with a golden-brown liquid inside. ‘It will warm you up.’

Shaking with the cold and wet, she drank it gratefully. Instantly, there was a rush of heat down her chest. ‘What is it?’ she asked.

Yannis tapped the bottle beside him. ‘A local drink. I think you need another, yes?’

She’d sworn not to overdo the alcohol after last night but this tasted innocuous enough, rather like the aniseed drink she’d had earlier.

‘Where were you when all this was happening?’ she asked after the second glass.

He shrugged. ‘Down below. I was preparing the food for our picnic.’ Then he pointed up at the sky. So blue! It was difficult to imagine it was the same one as a few moments ago. ‘We will have a good day for it, I theenk, now the gods are not so angry. Look! Here is the island.’

Helping her up, Yannis pointed to the small, surprisingly green piece of land that was approaching. ‘We are here. It is time for us to relax.’ His warm smile sent a little tingle through her. ‘We all deserve it, don’t you think?’

The relief at having Freddie and Winston back safely – coupled with a general feeling that they had all escaped – made everyone else heady with excitement, as well as her. Even the French couple, who had hardly spoken to anyone else on the boat but sat there, with their arms around each other, were now laughing and knocking back the wine that was being passed around.

Had she had too much to drink? wondered Emma. If she had, it had only been to calm herself after a pretty scary ordeal. Surely that was acceptable.

‘Food is ready,’ Rosie Harrison was saying briskly, as though she was one of the prefects at Emma’s old school.

She was nice, Emma had decided during the last few days, although there was a certain sharpness to her too. Maybe you had to be like that when you ran a business.

Emma’s eyes began to feel very heavy. ‘You must eat, I think,’ urged Yannis, pointing her towards the amazing feast that had been spread out on a tablecloth on the sand.

There was certainly enough. Plates piled high with little triangular pastry shapes; huge dishes of lasagne; a large platter of crispy sardines with slices of lemon; and those divine bread rolls with nutty seeds that she’d grown to love.

Yet even though Emma’s rumbling stomach told her that she was hungry, she could only manage a bowl of salad. The heat made it hard to eat and besides, all she really wanted to do was sleep.

Her mind went back to the many occasions that she’d tried desperately to keep the kids awake when they’d started to nod off in the car. ‘Don’t – or you won’t sleep tonight,’ she had urged. Now she felt just the same way herself. It was so hard to keep her eyes open!

‘Want to play French cricket?’ asked Melissa, coming over. Emma could see her friend glancing at Yannis curiously.

‘I don’t think so,’ she murmured, feeling her head fall onto Yannis’s shoulder. Part of her felt distantly embarrassed. The other part felt it was quite natural. They were just friends, after all.