Page 65 of Never Tear Us Apart
‘Knitting socks don’t seem so very like you, Maia Borg,’ he says. ‘Besides, I kinda got used to it now. Want to sit on the beach for a while?’
‘Yes.’ I nod, slipping off my battered shoes, and dance for a moment on the hot sand as my soles make the adjustment.
Danny pulls his tattered shirt over his head, revealing toned biceps and the ripple of dozens of small muscles in his back. It must take a lot of physical strength to fly a Spitfire. He flops back onto the sand, flinging his arms about his head. His brown torso must have been burnt and tanned a hundred times by now, and I notice the white tide-mark that peeps just above the waistline of his shorts and stop myself from wondering how far that untanned stretch goes.
Not nearly as comfortable in my own skin, I opt for a spot in the shade of the boat, hugging my knees to my chest as I look out at the quiet bay. Digging my toes into the sand, I lean my chin on my arms. Here is exactly where I want to be, and yet at the same time I would like to make myself invisible – to be with Danny, but not to be seen by him. He is like some kind of god, a man at the peak of his beauty. Next to him, I feel fat and ungainly, entirely unworthy to be in his company.
‘Everyone’s born to do something,’ Danny says, rolling onto his side to look at me. His roving gaze coaxes me to uncurl a little, still uncertain that he can really want to look at me, when every bit of me is soft and pink, sunburnt and glistening with perspiration. Leaning back on my hands, I twist towards him. His eyes travel over my torso to the tips of my fingers. With every millimetre of my body that his slowand lingering gaze takes in, I reveal a little more of myself to him in a deliciously long unspoken conversation.
‘You chose to be a journalist, right? Pretty bold move for a dame, if you don’t mind me saying so. Didn’t you choose it because you knew that was what you were born to do?’
‘No, not really,’ I admit. ‘It’s funny. Dad always knew what he was meant to be, and as for Mum, well – I’ve never met anyone as comfortable in her own skin as she was. But me – I’ve always felt kind of aimless. Kind of an outsider. Always like I’m drifting along like that tiny cloud up there. And then one day, I found myself accidentally in the middle of a war, and I had the turn of phrase to make it into a report and that was that. I’m good at it, but it never felt like a calling. Not like you and flying.’
‘I’m sure glad the wind blew you here, Stitches,’ Danny says, rolling onto his back. His hand drifts through the sand until his fingertips almost touch mine. ‘And I’m a little annoyed, too.’
‘Annoyed?’ I ask with a laugh.
‘I told you I wasn’t fixing to fall in love until this whole thing was done and dusted. Well, you upset that apple cart all right.’
Chapter Forty-Five
‘God, it’s hot as all hell,’ Danny says, suddenly leaping to his feet before I can even really process what he just said. ‘Come swim with me.’
Climbing to my feet, I watch as he gallops into the sea, splashing spray in all directions. As soon as he’s waist deep, he dives headlong into the water, emerging a few seconds later, shimmering and wet.
‘It’s all right for you,’ I call to him. ‘I don’t have a swimsuit.’
‘Come as you are.’ He laughs. ‘You’ll dry off in a couple of minutes in this heat. You’re safe with me – promise, Stitches.’
I believe him.
Glancing around the beach, I see it’s almost deserted, save for a couple of fishermen mending their nets. I have no sense of what time it is, but the sun isn’t high in the sky yet. There must be at least an hour until the expected lunchtime raids. An hour without noise, fear and confusion seems like something truly miraculous.
‘I’ll paddle,’ I say as if I’m making a concession, when I really want to be in that water.
Danny leans back into clear, blue water until his feet bob up and the back of his head is submerged. The water is warm but cool enough to soothe my hot and dusty feet. Gathering my skirt up in my hands, I walk in a little further and then a little more, until the sea circles my thighs. I hear myself sigh long and low for a moment of simple pleasure.
Closing my eyes, I hear the water lap and the boats gently clanking. There’s a gentle breeze and constant birdsong on the shore. From somewhere further away, I can hear a woman calling to her child, loving and cross all at once.
If I could isolate these few minutes from all the madness that has defined my life in the last few days, they would be the definition of serene. I think of all the bored and empty minutes I have spent in my other life, without realising what a luxury they were.
There’s aswooshin the water; Danny grabs my hand and pulls me hard towards him. Losing my footing in the sand, I’m dunked into the water and swimming.
‘Bloody cheek!’ I tell him, laughing.
‘You looked like you were thinking too hard,’ he tells me. ‘Today is not a day for thinking hard. How well do you swim?’
‘Not bad, I guess?’ He points to a little cove, hardly more than a spoonful of sand and rocks across the bay. ‘Can you get there?’
‘I think so. Race you!’
Before he can move, I plunge back into the water, diving under the glassy surface and into the blue.
Silvery bubbles escape my clothes and hair, cascading into the aquamarine. Tiny iridescent fish shoal around my outstretched fingers, darting away. My one yellow dress flattens and billows with each stroke I take, making me feel like a golden jellyfish.
It doesn’t take long for Danny to beat me into second place with just a few strokes of his long, strong arms. His tanned, bare skin has turned pale as moonlight under the water. With his dark curls becoming gravity-defying tendrils, he looks like the kind of creature that might sing a siren song.
When he reaches the tiny beach a minute before me, I slow down, lingering with the sea at my shoulders as he climbs outonto the sand. Two things are true: I am shy of him seeing me wet through in a clinging dress; and I want an excuse to look at him. I am only human, after all.
