Page 59 of Someone in the Water
Lola sighs. ‘I don’t want your apologies, Mum. I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that you can move on from Izzy’s death.’
I wipe my cheeks. I try to hold Lola’s gaze, but I can’t manage it, so I drop my eyeline and stare at my hands. ‘I don’t know how,’ I admit sorrowfully.
A chair scraping on the tiles makes me look up. ‘Lola?’
‘I’m going on the water,’ she snaps. Then she strides through my bedroom, whips the door open, and slams it shut behind her.
Frankie
28th July
I launch out after Lola, but when I call her name, she just lifts her hand and keeps walking. I recognise the gesture – give me space or my anger will grow exponentially – so I hover, unsure what to do. I hate the idea of her going out on a windsurf, especially with Jack’s kit, but how do I stop her without admitting my suspicions? I listen to the soft clip of her sliders as she heads downstairs.
I’ll go to the beach. Watch her from a distance. Make sure she stays safe. I have a thirty-second shower – conscious I must smell terrible after my sweaty, drug-induced sleep – then pull on my favourite Speedo bikini, swim shorts, and a T-shirt. I jam my feet into my Birkenstocks and grab the room key. With a burst of urgency, I race down the stairs, and only slow my pace to a fast walk as I make my way through the hotel.
I usually love this time of day on the beach – the midday heat gone but the horizon still a warm hazy blue – and I try to use it to lift my mood. The wind is lighter today, and the sea is almost glass-flat. I can see Lola now, tacking out with an enormous sail, using her skills to build up some speed despite the conditions. A speedboat appears from around the bay, sending ripples through the water, and I watch it streak across the skyline.
It’s a beautiful boat. Sleek lines. Sparkling white with a wide navy stripe around the hull. As the boat gets closer, I hold my breath. Because I recognise the driver. Dom. He has a passenger with him, a woman with blonde hair. He turns towards the beach and instantly slows to a crawl. A few minutes later, he manoeuvres alongside the jetty, jumps out of the boat, and ties a mooring line to one of the thick wooden posts. His passenger climbs out too, and they walk up to Jack. He gives the woman a quick hug, then releases her. Who is she?
I stare for a few more seconds, and then the woman turns towards me, lifting her hand to her eyes to block out the sun’s glare. Then she waves at me and starts walking over.
‘Fuck,’ I whisper, as recognition seeps in. ‘No fucking way.’ Then I stand up and prepare to greet Harriet.
‘Frankie Torre, wow. I did not think I was going to see you ever again.’ Harriet is a softer, rounder, but more polished version of her twenty-one-year-old self. Perfect make-up, her blonde hair still iron-straight but styled into a sharp bob, and her curvy body wrapped in a sea-green chiffon robe.
‘Me neither,’ I murmur.
‘I bet you’re wondering why I’m here.’
‘Well …’
‘Dom called me. I was at a meeting in Lyon, trying to get an acquisition over the line. A small French software company. But the owner was trying to renegotiate terms, and my client threw his toys, so the deal’s off.’ She shrugs, like she doesn’t care whether I understand what she’s talking about or not (which I don’t). ‘Anyway, I was kicking around with nothing to do, so when Dom told me you’d pitched up with your daughter, I jumped on a plane.’
‘So you’re a …’ Why can’t I finish a sentence?
‘A lawyer, yes. Life’s funny, isn’t it? One day I’m a sailing instructor with big dreams, and the next I’m a stressed-out city lawyer with sciatica and a butt too big for Whistles trousers. Anyway, enough about me, come on, let’s go.’
I look at Lola out at sea. She’s still cruising across the horizon. ‘Go where?’
‘Dom got the boat out of the marina specially. We’re going water-skiing.’
‘Wh-what? But I’m not sure I want to.’
Harriet’s expression softens and she lets out a sigh. ‘Listen, I know you’re here because your daughter was in trouble. I don’t have kids myself, but I’ve got Sidney, my black Lab, and I know how far outside my comfort zone I’d go for him. I’m figuring that being back at the hotel is pretty tough for you. And I remember what water-skiing did for your confidence all those years ago, and rightly so, because you were like a pro out there. So come on, let me do this for you.’
Harriet reaches for my hand, and I have a sudden memory of her throwing me her Helly Hansen hoodie. How much comfort it gave me as we searched the beach for Archie. I let myself be led along the sand to the jetty. I see Jack disappear into the water sports hut and feel a mix of annoyance that he’s blanking me, and relief that I don’t have to face him.
‘Hey, Frankie,’ Dom says, drawing my attention. ‘This was all Harriet’s idea, by the way. So if you hate it, blame her.’
‘Ah, so noble,’ Harriet says, giving him a sardonic smile.
‘Nice boat,’ I say.
‘She’s a beauty,’ Dom agrees, nodding.
‘Expensive, I guess. You must be doing well.’ I crease my brow. ‘What is it you do again?’
Dom suddenly looks awkward. ‘I play the stock market. And she is my only indulgence.’
