Page 41 of The Summer Island Swap
‘You all right?’ he asked. ‘I’ve heard of vodka eyeballing but fruit juice might really mess with your sight. ’He passed me a paper napkin.
‘How was your chat with Malik’s brother?’
‘Fascinating,’ he said. ‘And sad. Worrying.’ He sighed. ‘Research has shown another effect of global warming on turtles. The sex of their eggs is determined by the incubation temperature – hotter ones produce female hatchlings. Therefore unless turtles start nesting at a cooler time of year, hotter summers will mean the sex ratio will be out and the turtle population will eventually be mostly female.’ Deep lines appeared in his forehead.
I didn’t know what to say, so rested a hand on his arm. He smiled and sparks ran up to my shoulder.
Rick’s phone rang and he looked at the number and answered it. ‘Hi Lee…’
His brother.
‘What? Yes. Look, I told you, it’s all under control. Mum and Dad said what?’ He sighed. ‘We’ve been through all this before. No, I’m not stressed. I just need a little time and… but… hold on…’ He frowned and left the table.
Fifteen minutes he came back, rubbing his forehead.
‘Everything okay?’ I asked as he sat down again.
He nodded and picked up his glass. Slowly the frown disappeared as the calypso music got louder. Everyone ordered more drinks. Darkness fell. Moths fluttered inside the building. Pizzas arrived and we all insisted on paying for Rick’s. Jonas had his beloved spicy sausage on his. Other customers jigged to the music in the middle of the bar, the imaginary dance floor extending outside. Amy grabbed Benedikt’s hand and they got up. I held my arm out to Jonas. He gave a small shrug back and shook his head before staring at his phone.
‘I’ll have to do, then,’ said Rick and took my hand.
Before I knew it we were on our feet. Sweaty bodies surrounded us. The music was now too loud to talk. My face was directly opposite his open shirt. Amy and Benedikt stood beside us laughing loudly as they did the dirtiest dirty dance. My sister lost herself in the music, caring little about whether or not she had an audience. The same could be said for people all around who shook their shoulders and twisted their bodies, stepping from side to side and clapping in time with the music.
Carlotta tried to cut in, with her pole dancer’s figure. But Rick didn’t seem to notice, and down in the mouth she turned her attention to one of the many men happy to replace him.
This boosted my confidence. Perhaps I wasn’t such a bad dancer. My hips began to mirror Rick’s as my confidence grew with the style of dance. Somehow it felt easy to mirror his moves. His shoulders shimmied at me. Mine shimmied too. It felt natural. Instinctive.
I fought the urge, really I did, to wrap my arms around his neck so that we could sway together, up close, our limbs and hearts guiding each other. But it was no good and my arms started to rise in the air…
Until I noticed Jonas. In the corner. Crying into his cocktail.
20
I made my excuses to Rick and headed over to Jonas. I pulled him up and led him outside to one side where a wooden table was covered with empty glasses, under a thatched palm leaf parasol. We sat down opposite each other.
‘Why have you brought me out here?’ asked Jonas and he stared at the harbour in the distance. Moonlight illuminated dappled sea water surrounding silhouettes of yachts and fishing boats, with bats diving to and fro. Nearby bushes smelt of vanilla. Chirps and whistles filled the air. I’d heard them on the turtle trip – Rick told us they came from the endangered coqui frog.
‘What’s the matter?’ I asked gently.
‘Nothing.’
‘Jonas – I saw you crying.’
‘You misunderstood. My cocktail, there was a piece of lemon, it was very bitter. That’s all.’
‘It’s me. Sarah. We may have only known each other a few days but in this place it feels like a lifetime. I know that you hate banana. Have a second tattoo your parents don’t know about. That if you ever have kids you’d name a boy Bruce after Springsteen and that you love tea but go mad if anyone puts in the milk before water.’
‘All of that qualifies you to know when I’m upset?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Fair enough.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘I didn’t realise I’d been talking about myself so much.’
‘I’m a good listener. So spill.’
He looked puzzled.
‘That means tell me – what’s upset you? Or who? Is there any way I can help?’
