Page 71 of The Summer Island Swap
I rubbed my hands together. ‘I’m loving the challenge.’
‘Glad one of us is.’
‘I’ve dealt with pre-wedding parties at work numerous times over the years. We’re talking sick on the carpets, broken lampshades, noise into the early hours that I’ve had to quash. Once a girl even got handcuffed to the bathroom pipes for a joke. I think I can cope with this lot.’
‘Talking about vomit…’
On cue one of the party had thrown up over the side. I hurried over with tissues and offered my bottle of water but they glugged back more beer instead. Rick headed towards the jetty and parked up. Finding it hard to walk in a straight line, the men disembarked. They rapidly found their feet when Nia appeared holding a trayful of cocktails.
‘Cool. A private beach. Means we can do what we want,’ said Steve. ‘Which one of us is first in, lads? Get your kit off.’
Drinks were downed. Empty glasses clumsily returned. Shorts came off. I spun around and looked at Nia. The two of us hurried towards the boat to grab the men’s luggage, leaving Rick gaping. The three of us carried cases across the sand and planted them on the pathway that led to the camp and up to the house.
‘Right, gentlemen,’ Rick shouted. ‘We’ll start taking your bags up to your accommodation. Please follow as soon as you are ready.’
Nia went ahead to organise arrival snacks.
‘I can’t believe this crowd,’ said Rick. ‘Gran would be horrified.’
‘Would she?’ I countered. ‘It’s business. The island is private. And whilst they’ve booked under a discounted rate, they are paying your family to stay here and have a perfect right to enjoy themselves. They’re just a bit boisterous, that’s all.’
Rick put his hands on my shoulders. ‘Thank God you’re here,’ he said. ‘How can you do that? Kind of switch off your personal feelings?’
We walked on and eventually I broke the silence. ‘Like I say, I’ve had years of dealing with customers.’
‘It’s not just that, is it?’ he said. ‘I’ve seen you during the last couple of weeks, switch into a sort of… harder mode when faced with doing something you aren’t keen on. It’s as if you’ve got a reserve of toughness at your core. I admire that. Where’s it come from?’
We stared into each other’s eyes.
‘It didn’t always pay to be myself when I was younger. If I showed my vulnerability Dad would take advantage – he’d do anything to make himself look like the better person.’
An arm slipped around my shoulder. ‘Then he’s missed out, because the glimpses I’ve seen of the Sarah behind the mask are pretty special.’
A lump formed in my throat and gratefully I heard footsteps sound behind us.
Jonas and Benedikt were playing a jazz tune when we arrived, in the smart clothes they’d worn one night when we’d had drinks and music to celebrate Carlotta’s birthday. The men caught up and tucked into Nia’s canapés with gusto. Rick showed them to their beach huts. Jonas and Benedikt left for the canteen, saying they’d come back at eight when Nia would serve the guests dinner.
Rock music suddenly cut through the air. Steve stood, in swimming trunks, outside his beach hut, a boom box on the steps. He rubbed his stomach fondly and belched before lobbing his lit cigarette into nearby bushes. Rick and I hurried outside. He stamped on the cigarette. Oblivious, Steve crouched down and suddenly sprang into the air. Clutching his knees tightly he flew into the water, bombing the surface. Seconds later Rick and I stood dripping with water as Jason and his friends surfaced from their huts and shouts of laughter resounded around the pool.
32
Saturday morning. It felt good to be asleep in someone’s arms. Warm. Safe. Cocooned from the realities of life, like redundancy and the prospect of struggling to pay bills… Snuggling under the covers I contemplated the last couple of days. Thursday night, after Jason and his friends had arrived, we’d all sat up until 1 a.m. talking. Rick and I finally left them drinking cocktails in the pool. They’d asked for a full English breakfast Friday morning and wanted Malik to take them snorkelling in the afternoon. Rick had accompanied them whilst I’d stayed behind to help Brandon and Nia clear up the villa. There were cigarette butts everywhere and spilt drinks on beds. The mini fridges we’d put in had already been emptied.
Being part of something, right at the beginning, learning by mistakes, trying out new ideas – it exhilarated me.
Brandon and I had also replanted several chocolate trees either side of the house. We chose younger ones as they were easier to dig up. The established powder puff trees we wanted to remove were harder and a couple of the volunteers helped out with the back-breaking work. After a shower, I took a new shot of the house and uploaded it to the website. Whilst looking after Lee’s old university friend was important, we still needed to push forwards with the bigger plan. Search engines had now picked up the website and that the number of views was growing.
I felt like skipping! Holding hands with Amy and circling round and round as fast as we could! We’d had plenty of moments like that when we were little, with Mum. She had the most infectious laugh and put fun into the most boring things. Like when I’d have my fringe cut. She’d secretly pull silly faces at me from behind that I saw in the mirror. I’d almost burst from trying to control the urge to laugh.
Jason and his friends had returned from the snorkelling remarkably dry. Rick said the wettest part of them had been their throats. They’d been keen to go out last night and we’d taken them on a bar crawl. Steve almost got punched by a man whose girlfriend he’d tried to chat up. One bar manager ordered them out after a shouting match about Brexit – Steve and two of the others had been firmly Remain. Jason and the rest Leave. Insults had started to fly. We’d got back to Seagrass Island at around 3 a.m. and plodded up to the house, the men now laughing about their argument. A vague memory returned of Steve serenading me with a slurred version of ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough’ as we ascended.
I yawned again, pressing myself comfortably into the warm body behind me. It has been so long since a strong pair of arms had held me tight. This pair felt like a perfect fit. They felt right.
Crap.
Heart racing, I ran my hand down my body. Thank God I was dressed. Nervously my eyes fluttered open. Please don’t let me be in one of the beach huts with one of the stag party. I took in the mahogany ceiling and vase of flowers, the whitewashed walls and tropical paintings. Relief gushed through me. I was in the spare room, at the house. I’d more or less lived there since working on the website. I shuffled and turned around and gazed at Rick, looking adorable whilst asleep.
The tanned face and inky hair contrasted the white pillows. For the first time I noticed the faint hairs on his muscular forearms and how long his eyelashes were. His breath touched my face and felt sweeter than any sea breeze. Our mouths were mere inches apart. Heat spread through my limbs and pooled in my pelvis as they yearned to wrap themselves around him. I longed to lose myself in the warmth… in him.
