Page 75 of The Summer Island Swap
His brow furrowed. ‘Amy seems pretty rock solid to me. She’s not a child. Why would you keep something like that from her? No. That doesn’t make sense. There has to be another reason.’
I stepped back and, in that instant, realised that all along my sister had been right. Before coming here, I was still treating her like a little girl. Rick wouldn’t even entertain the idea that I’d feel the need to protect an adult, like that.
A heavy, cloying sensation constricted my chest.
‘If you’d been upfront about your aspirations, who knows, maybe I’d have given your ambition a chance – but the way you’ve fooled me and used my family…’ He shook his head. ‘Is that why you suddenly ended things between us? Because you realised this project might actually take off? Had getting close to me just been part of that scheme? You said you thought we should halt any romance because you’d be going home soon. Was it really because you felt the opposite might happen and you weren’t actually that into me after all?’
I pursed my lips. ‘First you thought I came up with this hotel idea to get out of doing conservation work. We got over that misunderstanding. But now you accuse me of coldly trying to forge a career here, instead of genuinely trying to help you and your family?’
‘Sarah…’ His voice faltered. ‘I really don’t want to think…’
‘Why should I be surprised? Men like you always try to shift the blame.’ My voice choked. ‘You’re just like my father. It was never his fault that Mum died, it was alwaysmine,’ I spat those last words through anger.
There.
I’d said it.
The awful accusation Dad threw at me when I left home at eighteen.
The comment that tortured me for years afterwards.
I was shaking. My throat hurt. Confusion crossed Rick’s face.
Footsteps sounded. Amy appeared. ‘Sarah, are you all right? Did you mention Mum? What’s this all about?’
‘No… you… you misheard. We… we were just disagreeing about the best plan for searching for Chatty. Look…. let’s just get going…’
Rick left the house and started to run. Amy, Jackie and I followed. As fast as we could we went down to the camp, past the shower block and up to the animal enclosure. Chatty’s space stood empty. My stomach was in knots as I pictured him alone and frightened in the forest.
Pushing the argument with Rick out of my mind, along with the others I searched under every bush within a twenty-metre radius but didn’t spot anything. Not even monkey droppings. Rick called his name. We listened for the familiar whistles and squeaks but only heard the call of sea birds and distant merry shouts of volunteers no doubt taking an early swim as a start to their weekend.
Jackie examined the bolt. Amy searched his enclosure for the hundredth time. Rick stared in despair at the surrounding foliage.
‘What’s his favourite food?’ I asked.
‘He likes eggs,’ said Jackie.
‘He loved those cashew nuts I prepared for him, the other day,’ said Amy.
Rick looked at Jackie. ‘But his ultimate treat…’
So now he wasn’t talking to me.
I was upset. And angry. I thought we’d become friends at the very least.
Jackie’s face brightened. ‘I’ll see if we’ve got any.’ She turned and ran down the path that led to the canteen.
‘What is she fetching?’ asked Amy.
‘Freeze-dried fruit. Strawberry and banana are his absolute favourite,’ muttered Rick. ‘Sometimes Malik orders them in to put in packed dinners, for the overnight turtle trips – they are lighter than carrying fresh fruit. Chatty played with one of the bags, once. Worked out how to open it, not knowing there was food inside. His face, when he tried a slice of freeze-dried strawberry, it was a picture…’ Rick almost smiled. ‘Ever since then the rustle of a bag gets him so excited. You should see him when we all eat crisps. I often wonder, as well, if it reminds him of all the junk food his was fed before being rescued. It was a hard job to wean him off that fat and sugar.’
We continued to search under nearby frangipani bushes and called out Chatty’s name until Jackie got back, arms full of small bags. A few clouds moved in. At least the monkey wouldn’t get too hot, if he was far from water.
‘Let’s make a pile of them,’ I said. ‘With a couple of bags open.’
‘In fact, we could sprinkle the contents of one on top, so that the smell spreads,’ said Amy.
‘And rustle the plastic in our hands to attract his attention,’ said Jackie, none of us voicing the option that Chatty might be nowhere near or had suffered something worse than getting lost.
