Page 91 of Someone in the Water
‘Fucking arsehole! I’ve known the guy for over twenty fucking years. I have cried on his shoulder; he’s listened to my guilt spill out on drunken nights too many times to count. And the real truth is that he killed Archie?’ He kicks Raphael’s still torso, and the momentum snaps the dead man’s head back. The moon catches his glassy eyes, blood pooling in the crevices. ‘He deserves more than a bullet in the head!’
‘Like a petrol bomb through his letterbox?’
Why the fuck did I just say that? Jack has just saved my life! The adrenaline is making me crazy.
But Jack’s anger instantly deflates. ‘You know about that, then. I did wonder.’
‘Um, yes,’ I stutter. ‘Archie told me on the night … the night Raphael murdered him. But I haven’t told …’
‘Two seconds,’ Jack says. ‘That’s how long it took for me to regret it. I couldn’t save the flat, but I got them all out. And I paid for all the repair work. Yeah, it was drug money, but none of us are perfect. I told Archie all this, and he got it too. After a while.’ He releases a sad sigh. ‘He pretended to beat me up for it, that night, but we were laughing in the end. That’s why I couldn’t believe it when Izzy told me he’d killed himself. God knows why I made up that bullshit story about being in town. I was scared, I suppose. Of telling the police I’d been with him only a couple of hours before he died. Old habits.’
‘Izzy knew what you’d done in London too, I think. She was scared of you.’
He shakes his head. ‘Not as scared as I was of her. Swaggering around Achille’s nightclub like she owned the place. She was in much deeper than me in London. I thought we’d be friends, both of us coming from the same scene, but she hated that I knew who she really was. Even though I never said a word.’
I look at the gun in his hand, his composed expression, and wonder whether I’m still in danger. ‘And are you still involved with those people?’ I ask in a whisper.
‘What? God, no.’ Jack looks down at his gun and it’s as though he doesn’t recognise it. ‘Archie made me see things differently. I’ve only got this to scare off the wild boar that like to munch on the vines in this place. Amazing that I made my shot really, but I guess rage and adrenaline can go a long way.’
‘But how did you even know to come down here?’
‘I had an alert on my phone that the winery’s door had been opened. Salvo’s reputation meant that we never had to worry about thieves, but with him gone, and me close by, I thought I should check it out. The place was quiet when I arrived, but then I heard the gunshot and screaming. I grabbed this out of my boot and came running. I thought I was going to save someone, but then I heard what you said about Archie.’
‘That Raphael strangled him.’
‘He didn’t even try to deny it.’
‘Mum!’
My heart stops, then surges. I twist around. ‘Lola?!’ I breathe out, not quite believing my eyes. ‘LOLA!’ I stumble towards my daughter. My knees start to give way, but someone holds me up. Dom.
‘Oh my God, Frankie. I thought …’ Dom looks around him, eyes skittering over the two dead bodies. Father and son. ‘We got here as fast as we could,’ he says, breathless, his words rushing out. ‘I heard the first shot, started running towards it, but there was a noise from the winery, someone banging on a window and screaming for help. I had to get Lola out.’
‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ Lola sobs, folding into my outstretched arms. ‘This is all my fault. I should have listened to you.’
‘Don’t even think about blaming yourself,’ I say, my voice so much stronger than the swirling flotsam in my brain. ‘I have spent over two decades blaming myself for a tragedy. I won’t have you do the same.’
‘Izzy’s death wasn’t your fault, Mum,’ Lola gulps between her tears. ‘I don’t know what happened, but she was part of this horrible family.’ Lola looks around the scene with a mix of fear and disgust.
I gently pull her closer. ‘Yeah, I know that now,’ I murmur. ‘Maybe if I’d known to be wary of her then, none of this would have happened.’
‘Who knows,’ says Jack, his voice gritty. ‘Every choice we make, big or small, changes the trajectory of our lives to some degree.’
‘No such thing as fate then,’ I murmur.
Jack gives me a half-smile. ‘I think I’d need a few tequilas before answering that one.’
2026
Lola
1st August
‘So are you ready for this?’
Lola smiles at her mum, then lets her knees drop until she’s sitting cross-legged in the warm sand. She looks at the expanse of sea in front of her. Shades of blue from aquamarine to cobalt. A strong easterly wind darting across the water, creating hundreds of tiny white peaks in the otherwise flat Piantarella lagoon. And fluorescent buoys marking out the one-kilometre course. ‘Yeah, I’m ready.’
Her rig is waiting for her down by the windsurf centre, painstakingly adjusted to give herself the best chance of winning the race she was supposed to take part in last year. That didn’t work out – there were other things to do that day – but the race admin honoured her entry for 2026. There are fifty windsurfers taking part – forty men and ten women, room for improvement, as always – with ten staggered start times. She’s in the penultimate race, which will begin in about half an hour.
