Page 67 of Someone in the Water
‘Coming,’ she calls out, then picks up her pace to catch up.
They cross the wooden bridge over an inlet of water and finally arrive at the beach. And it’s worth the journey. It’s a small cove, formed by rocks and lined with yellow and lilac flowered shrubs. The sand is soft and white, and the stretch of water in front of the beach is glistening bright aquamarine in the sunshine.
‘This is amazing,’ Lola murmurs as Patrick unstraps a picnic blanket from his backpack and lays it out on the sand.
‘Are you hungry?’ he asks, kneeling down over his bag. ‘Because I brought loads.’
Lola smiles, nods, and drops down next to him. She watches him pull out a collection of fresh foods. Then he takes a knife from a separate pocket of his bag and starts slicing the cucumber and tomato. It reminds her of the knife he mentioned –vendetta corse– and she wonders how Corsican Patrick feels. He’s lived here all his life, but his mother is English, and Lola can’t imagine Anna has much time for Corsican traditions.
Lola pulls off a hunk of bread and rips it open with her fingernails. She fills it with a soft cheese that she remembers is called Brocciu, a local goat’s cheese, and shoves in some salad. ‘My grandfather is Corsican,’ she says, suddenly realising they have that in common – a mix of Corsican and English blood.
‘Oh really?’ Patrick looks surprised for a second, then his face settles. ‘On your mum’s side?’
‘Yeah.’
‘So you’re officially half as crazy as me then?’
Lola starts to laugh, but then she thinks about her mum, and how she’s spent time on a psychiatric ward. Her face drops.
‘What’s wrong?’ Patrick asks. ‘I don’t really think you’re crazy, you know.’
Lola shakes her head. ‘No, it’s not that. It’s just that my mum has struggled with her mental health over the years and …’
‘Oh God, I’m sorry. And you’re right, it’s not something to laugh about.’ He falls quiet for a moment. ‘That must have been tough for you.’
Lola shrugs. ‘Not really. I was sheltered from it mostly. But that’s why Mum takes herself off for a few weeks every summer, just in case she loses it again.’
‘Why the summer?’
‘I think it’s to do with Izzy’s death. She gets nightmares, and insomnia, and it all spirals, I guess. It means she misses my birthday, but her mental health is more important.’
Patrick leans over, pushes a strand of Lola’s hair away from her eyes. His face is only a few centimetres away from hers, and Lola can feel the electric charge sparking in the trapped air between them. ‘She’s lucky to have you,’ he murmurs.
Then he leans further, closing the gap.
Frankie
29th July
‘Oh my God, Lola, where have you been?!’ Adrenaline is threatening to overwhelm me. I feel an urge to grab Lola’s shoulders, but I don’t know whether I want to hug her until she suffocates or shake her until she breaks.
‘All right, Mum, chill out.’ Lola lifts her hands.
‘But I haven’t seen you since first thing this morning! I’ve been so worried. Why didn’t you tell me you were going out? Or answer my calls?’
‘I’ve been on a picnic with Patrick, okay? And I didn’t get any calls.’ Lola pulls her phone out of her back pocket with a look of injustice. But then her expression changes. ‘Oh,’ she says, her voice deflating. ‘It’s out of juice. It’s this stupid, cheap phone you got me. The battery only lasts five minutes. But why didn’t you ask Anna or Raphael where I was?’
‘I did! Both of them said they didn’t know.’
‘Really?’ Lola tilts her head. ‘That’s weird; I’m sure Patrick told them.’
I blink away tears. After getting that terrifying note last night, I ran straight out to see Lola. But I found I couldn’t knock on her door, not after our argument. So I pulled a sun lounger up to the staff accommodation block entrance instead, grabbed a couple of towels from the water sports hut, and curled up on that. I didn’t think I’d sleep at all, but the dawn birdsong woke me around five o’clock so I must have dropped off at some point.
When Lola emerged a few hours later, I pretended I’d been out for an early morning walk. I desperately wanted to convince her of the danger we’re in, but I couldn’t bear another argument, so I kept quiet and promised myself that I’d bring it up when I found the strength. I hoped we’d have breakfast together, but Lola said she wanted to check on the progress of her travel documents first. That was such welcome news that I let her go without arranging to meet up afterwards. And when I came down from my shower fifteen minutes later, I couldn’t find her anywhere.
‘No one knew where you were,’ I say, my voice breaking.
‘I’m sorry, okay?’ Lola says, dropping down opposite me and leaning forward over the small table. ‘I should have told you. But I’ll be an adult in three days, Mum. I went for a picnic with a friend, we ate, swam, chatted, and then I came back to the hotel. No drama, no danger. Just usual holiday stuff.’
