Page 19 of Someone in the Water
‘You have no idea,’ Izzy murmurs, shaking her head.
‘So tell me then.’
Izzy closes her eyes for a moment, then opens them and tilts her face towards me. She smiles. ‘I’m sorry. You’re right. Maybe I’m grumpy because I didn’t have passionate sex with a water-ski instructor last night.’
‘Oh God, Izzy!’ Heat explodes in my cheeks, and I cover them with my palms. ‘What have I done?’
Izzy giggles, the tension evaporating. ‘You’ve given us all something to gossip about. Now come on, before Harriet spontaneously combusts.’
Frankie
27th June
‘How about truth or dare?’ Harriet suggests, her voice already slurring despite it being the middle of the afternoon. It’s the waterfront team’s day off – always on a Sunday because it’s the main transfer day for the hotel – and we’ve spent most of it either sleeping or drinking. A long lie-in followed by a rowdy discussion about what to do with our precious hours of freedom (while I mainly focused on not making eye contact with Dom). Dom wanted to go cliff jumping through waterfalls, while Archie suggested tennis and Harriet mentioned a visit to the local market. But there was no consensus until Izzy offered to get hold of a stash of hotel wine from Raphael for us to share.
We found a quiet stretch of beach out of sight from the guests and draped a collection of towels over the sand. Now we’re sat in a circle with six wine bottles and three tubes of paprika Stackers laid out between us.
‘I’m up for it,’ Dom says, knocking his plastic cup against Harriet’s then taking a swig. It’s cheap rosé sparkling wine, like pink lemonade with a kick, and we’re already on our fourth bottle.
‘It’s dangerous territory,’ Archie warns, raising an eyebrow. ‘You never know what secrets you might be forced to divulge.’ I know he’s trying to sound jokey, but I can hear the nervousness behind it, and it makes me wonder what his secrets are. Posh, Scottish, and with better listening skills than most – he seems like an open book to me.
‘That’s what the dare option is for, dumb arse,’ Harriet throws back. ‘Or are you scared of those too?’
‘You Brits are so stupid,’ Izzy says. ‘You can just lie, you know. If you don’t want to tell us your secrets, just make something up. That’s the beauty of working in a place like this. You can be anyone you want.’
‘So who do you want to be, Izzy?’ Jack asks. He leans back, as though he doesn’t really care, but his eyes scrutinise her.
Izzy gives him a tight smile. ‘The queen of Corsica, of course.’ She takes a gulp of her wine, stares at her cup for a moment, then turns to look at Jack. ‘What about you? Ready to reveal your secrets?’
‘Why don’t you spin the bottle and find out?’
‘Me first!’ Harriet calls out. ‘It was my idea.’ She grabs one of the empty bottles, lays it on a smoothed-out section of towel, and flicks her wrist. The bottle spins three times, then slows to a stop, the neck pointing at Izzy. Harriet looks triumphant, as though she suggested the game for this very opportunity. ‘Our lovely French Isobel,’ she starts. ‘Hmmm, let’s see. Would you sleep with Raphael if he propositioned you?’
Izzy leans back, as though the idea has repelled her. ‘What? Of course not! He’s married for a start, and has a kid, and he’s about forty.’
‘He’s thirty-four,’ Harriet says defensively, put out by Izzy’s unmitigated denial. ‘And good-looking. And rich. And he gave you all this wine.’
‘She could be lying,’ Archie points out, raising his eyebrows and grinning. ‘After all, she did suggest that option in the first place.’
Harriet’s triumph partially returns. ‘Come on, admit it. You fancy him a little bit.’
‘Gross, no,’ Izzy says, shaking her head emphatically, her eyes not quite keeping up. ‘Now it’s my turn to spin.’ She winks at me, and it sends a lurch of panic through my belly – she seems even sassier than usual today, which is probably down to the wine – then twists the bottle. It spins on its axis, finally stopping opposite Archie. She looks at him for a few moments, as though weighing up what to ask, then takes a breath. ‘Are you in love with Jack?’
Everyone seems to grow a bit taller as our backs straighten out. My eyes dart to Archie. Sure, I’ve always found him the easiest out of the three boys to talk to, but that doesn’t mean anything. And yes, during the times we’ve chatted on the beach after a night out, there’s never been a hint of sexual tension between us. But gay? And in love with Jack? It hadn’t occurred to me. But the answer becomes clear when Archie looks at Jack with a Mayday signal clear on his face.
‘That’s none of your fucking business,’ Jack warns, his anger dimming his good looks, while making his London accent more pronounced.
‘He could lie,’ Izzy offers with a dark smirk. ‘If he was ashamed of it.’
‘Ashamed of being gay?’ Jack releases a bitter laugh. ‘You homophobic bitch.’
‘No, stupid. Ashamed of falling for someone like you.’
‘That’s not fair,’ Archie says quietly. He shuffles sideways, closer to Jack. It’s a small movement but one that shouts louder. ‘Jack is stronger than any of us. He’s had plenty to cope with back home, and he’s dealt with it like an absolute hero. And I don’t know about love exactly, but yeah, we like each other. Anyone have a problem with that?’
‘Not me,’ Dom says with a grin. ‘Reduces my competition to zero.’
‘As in, you’re a couple?’ Harriet asks, slow to catch up, although whether that’s down to her traditional upbringing or the amount of wine she’s consumed is hard to know.
