Page 87 of The Summer Island Swap
‘Sarah, I was chatting to Jonas… What’s all this about you going home early?’
39
Part of me yearned to stay near Rick. Jonas and Benedikt were moving in together after just a matter of weeks – but it was to follow their hearts musically as well. I couldn’t justify any more time here – not when I had a career to forge back home.
Mum left university for Dad. Anabelle gave up her job and own earnings. Looking back, I could see how that allowed him to isolate them from their friends.
I hadn’t fully understood the extent of his abuse at the time.
Because it was abuse.
I was growing up. Reading online news articles. Surfing social media. I came across similar stories. They gave me strength. Made me understand just how selfish and controlling my father was. When I was small, I didn’t think I would ever understand adult relationships. Mum veered between being so happy and so sad, navigating her way around Dad’s anger, saying his moods were due to him working so hard and that we should all try to make his life easier.
Sometimes I thought that I was to blame. Perhaps I was especially naughty. Maybe I was born bad and causing problems between Mum and Dad. My self-esteem recovered a little when I read those articles in my teens. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t Mum or Amy. Nor Anabelle.
The only person to blame was him.
As my twenties passed, I chose my partners carefully and realised there were other types of men to Dad. Yet I could never shake off a deep urgency, within, to remain completely independent.
‘I’m sorry you heard it from him first, Rick. Everything has happened so fast. The thing is… I need to pursue my career. Luxury hotel management is competitive and I stand the best chance of landing a position back in London. I can’t afford to be out of work for long.’ I told him about the offer from Best Travel that I’d turned down and the luxury hotels I’d already got in mind, to apply to, and talked about how I was going to restructure my CV.
‘I understand. And I respect you so much. Perhaps we can visit each other.’
‘Yes,’ I said and glanced away, knowing, as he probably did, that in time the distance, cost of travelling and work obligations would prove too much.
Suddenly I remembered the exciting news. ‘Talking of work, have you looked at the new website today?’
Rick shook his head.
‘There’s an email. This could be your first proper booking! And it sounds much more suitable. It’s a mixed group of retired people. Just eight. Good friends by the sounds of it. Four of the partners used to work for the same publishing company and left work at around the same time. They formed a book club to stay in touch. They all happen to be animal lovers as well and fancy a trip together. One of the couples recently suffered bad news and I get the sense that the others have rallied around and suggested a getaway last-minute trip away – somewhere secluded. That’s what is most important to them.’
‘It sounds like that enquiry told you quite a story!’
‘The email signature belongs to a well-known author. Perhaps that explains it. I’ve seen her on a television chat show. That might be another reason that the privacy of Cacao House appeals.’
I smiled. To think I’d once thought this trip was going to mean a month in the company of Richard Branson and other famous people.
‘They are interested in visiting the animal enclosures. Learning about local wildlife. Sampling authentic Virgin Island cooking.’ I punched his arm. ‘Brilliant, isn’t it? You must reply today. They have a few questions before going ahead such as how bad are the mosquitoes and can you cater for food allergies.’
‘Would you mind casting an eye over my response? This is completely new territory.’
‘Of course.’
‘I’m going to miss you – purely from a professional point of view, of course.’
I loved how his frequent humour made those mocha eyes even warmer.
‘You’ll soon get the hang of it but can always message me with questions. Or we can Skype.’
We stood up and headed down to the jetty with Jason and his friends. We’d assumed they’d be eating at the house this evening, as usual, but they’d insisted on going across to Tortola for a ‘quiet meal’. A friend of Rick’s over there offered to drop them back. Nia said they’d been quiet all day, in the pool or playing cards on the sun beds. Brandon had told them about Tortola’s botanical gardens and they’d decided to visit there tomorrow.
We didn’t say much, in the boat, as Rick steered. I searched the waves for dolphins already feeling homesick – homesick for the island I’d be leaving. How was that possible? I’d only been here for three weeks but felt so different from the woman who’d turned up here with her impractical clothes and matching attitude.
Seagrass Island had changed me, I thought, as I stepped onto dry land. I’d never felt homesick before. Aged eighteen I’d been glad to leave Dad. It hurt not living with Amy. I still missed Mum. But I felt no attachment to the life I’d led with him and Anabelle.
‘Can we go in here, quickly?’ I said to Rick as he searched for a taxi. I pointed to a gift shop.
‘Don’t worry about us – we’ll sort ourselves out,’ said Jason.
