Page 8 of The Summer Island Swap
That nervous feeling washed over me again, like years ago when I’d sense Amy was pulling a practical joke. On my seventeenth birthday Dad and our stepmother, Anabelle, were out. As a surprise Amy had baked me a large muffin and covered in squirty cream and sugar sprinkles. She watched me take a big bite. Turned out she’d decorated a bath sponge. I couldn’t help giggling with her for hours afterwards.
Rick’s style was more casual than I’d expected for Very Important guests like all of us. Not that I saw myself like that, but in view of how little was left of Amy’s five thousand pounds, now that she’d paid in full. Perhaps the hotel I worked for was behind the times, with its staff’s formal, detached manner. Rick led us out of the bustling building, in his well-fitting chinos and army beige shirt that complimented his long legs and broad back. We walked towards the exit opposite the customs area we’d just come through.
‘I’ve hired a small taxi van,’ he said and ran a hand over his stubble beard, ‘although it wouldn’t take long to walk down to Trellis Bay where our boat’s waiting.’
As we left the airport sunshine wrapped itself around me, tropical wind teased my hair. The air smelt of vanilla.
‘Thanks for this, Amy,’ I said. ‘You’ve done a great job of booking this holiday. I can tell it’s going to be fantastic. I’m so impressed.’
‘I hope it will be,’ she said.
We piled into the bus and sat down. Amy took out her guide again. I leant forward and looked around, trying to remember the names and information I’d overheard. There was me and Amy. Two young couples, one from England, one from France. The neat woman was Helga, from the Black Forest in Germany it turned out, here with her brother Jonas. I wondered how long his dreadlocks took to plait. With the large guitar tattoo on his left forearm and beaded bracelet he looked like the antithesis of his minimalist sister. Unlike serious-looking Jonas, there was Benedikt, from Hamburg, who had a permanent smile on his face, as if his mouth were drawn upwards by the fashionable man bun at the back of his head.
Where were the older people or young families with children? Why did everyone look as if they were about to spend the week with Bear Grylls? I looked around, feeling conspicuous. We were talking jeans with holes, worn trainers and T-shirts with save the planet logos. My sixth sense revved up and went into overdrive.
Amy glanced my way. ‘Sarah – sit back and relax. Just enjoy the view.’
A quirky trinket market came into sight as we approached the bay, the land curving around and rising green and dense on the far side. I almost gasped at the shades of blue. The ocean looked even more radiant this close, with warm hues near the shore and darker blueberry ripples the further you looked out.
‘This is stunning,’ I murmured, enjoying the sensation of being cocooned in the island’s heat. Perhaps I was the odd one out, clothes-wise, because I wasn’t used to worldwide travel. I looked down at my knee-high skirt and bejewelled sandals. A small red lump had appeared below my right knee. It itched. What a good thing we’d brought repellent although no doubt every corner of the hotel would have one of those special mosquito lamps.
The bus stopped at the dock and I could hardly wait to get off. Rick waited whilst we unloaded our luggage and then strode down to the shore, chatting to Helga and Jonas. Rick tried speaking German. Helga politely complimented his accent and that made him laugh. Yet still his voice still didn’t sound completely relaxed, as if words he really wanted to speak were locked up and just waiting for someone to release the catch.
I forced my attention away from his neck and unexpected thoughts of wanting to stroke it.
I hadn’t been with a man I’d cared about for two years.
I thought that last one had cared back until I discovered he was cheating.
Apparently it was my fault. I put up barriers. Six months in and Callum still didn’t feel I needed him.
Anyway, I hadn’t come all the way to the Caribbean for romance and a relationship – the only R&R I was interested in was rest and recreation (and research). I concentrated on my surroundings. The soundtrack was so different to the one I was used to back home, with the rumble of the underground and impatient London traffic. Here it was the screech of seabirds and slosh of waves against the beach, the rustling of leaves in the wind and sailors good-naturedly shouting.
I breathed in and could almost taste saltwater. A sense of freedom enveloped me that I hadn’t experienced since… memories rewound, a long way, to primary school, before Mum died. Me running as fast as I could, across school fields… climbing high in a tree, both terrified and thrilled by the prospect of suffering a fall… and then there was guide camp. There I’d felt like a free spirit.
‘Here we go,’ said Rick and people started to clamber onto… Oh. A fisherman’s boat? I’d expected a catamaran or a yacht at the very least, with a polished hull and spotless white sail. I almost gagged at the smell of fish guts. Algae had crocheted itself through nets hanging over the sides.
‘Blue marlin are local to the Virgin Islands, aren’t they?’ asked Amy cautiously and peered into the water. ‘I… I believe they can grow up to five metres long.’
‘Yes. Amateurs confuse them with swordfish but—’
‘The bill growing out of their head is pointed instead of blunt.’
Rick nodded. ‘I’m impressed. Someone’s done their homework.’
A smile lit up Amy’s face.
Jonas stepped onto the boat after me and ran a hand over his tattoo. His sister, Helga, chatted with Amy. He shot me an uncertain look.
‘I don’t like boats,’ he said. ‘When I was nine I fell off one during a school trip to a water sports centre, near Munich. I’ve never forgotten the taste of the water. It was worse than my university friends’ home-brewed beer.’
I asked him about the Black Forest. He chatted about growing up there. I said it sounded so picturesque. He said it was but at heart he was more of a city dweller. I told him about my life in London. The conversation flowed. Jonas was so easy to talk to.
‘At least there will be delicious food and drink waiting to revive us after the boat trip,’ I said.
‘Yeah, right,’ he snorted, clearly not a fan of Michelin-starred cooking. ‘It’s no secret that I only came along to keep Helga company. She’s wanted to do this for ages but none of her friends had the money. Mum and Dad insisted on contributing.’ He sighed. ‘That’s twins’ love, for you. I was all set to say no but my instincts took over.’
‘Amy and I are sisters. I get that sense of loyalty.’
