Page 60 of Someone in the Water
‘Along with that sprawling bachelor pad of yours.’ Harriet laughs, then throws a buoyancy aid at me. ‘Ski’s on the beach,’ she instructs. ‘You go first.’
Two minutes later, Dom and Harriet are sitting in the idling boat and I’m standing in shallow water close to the shore, but far away from the swimming area. The ski is on my left foot, floating, and my weight is all on my right, my toes digging into the sand for balance. I have the ski rope handle in one hand and a loop of rope in the other – which marks how long I’ve got to react when the boat starts.
Dom raises his hand to show that he’s ready. I take one quick breath and fling the slack of the rope out in front of me. ‘Go!’ I shout. The tension pulls. I lift up my right leg and slide it into the rubber binding behind my left. It’s a perfect start.
A grin spreads across my face as I cut through the wake and fly out wide. I lean over and run my fingertips through the glassy water. Harriet is right – this is my purest, simplest pleasure. Wind whipping past my face, my mind relaxing as my body grows tauter. Eventually I cut back in, absorbing the bumps with my knees, then straight out to the other side. I look at my sparkling reflection in the sun-kissed water.
Maybe Lola is right about me moving on from Izzy’s death. And maybe I can forget about the note too – file it as a humourless prank, not a threat, and focus on building a better relationship with my daughter. I cut back in, fly through the wake’s churning white water, take the impact, until I hit glass once again. Maybe this is the metaphor I need to live by. Find the courage to face the rough water – go to Sartène, be in Corsica on 31st July, look these people in the eye without feeling scared or ashamed – and then enjoy the feeling of reaching the other side, stronger. A better mother.
Fifteen minutes later, my arm muscles are burning, so when Dom gestures that he’s slowing down, I give him a grateful nod. The rope goes slack, and I slide into the water. Dom circles around and I hand the ski to Harriet. Then I heave myself onto the boat, dragging the rope with me.
‘That was awesome, thank you.’
‘My turn now!’ Harriet drops her robe to reveal a burnt orange swimsuit and matching shorts. Then she grabs the mono-ski and jumps into the water. She slides it on more deftly than I would have expected, then calls for the rope. A minute later, she’s whipping across the wake, and I’m hovering next to Dom, tiny droplets of white water spitting on my arm.
‘Just like the old days,’ he murmurs with a smile.
I wrap the towel with its Hotel Paoli logo around me and sink into the cushioned seat. ‘Listen, I think I owe you an apology. If it hasn’t passed its sell-by date.’
He’s quiet for a moment, staring out to sea. ‘It wasn’t you I was mad with,’ he finally says. ‘Not really. I knew she got inside your head that summer.’
His tone is so bitter that I find myself thinking like Lola for a moment, suspecting everyone of killing Izzy. ‘She told me that you never gave her a chance. That all of you blanked her from day one. I believed her.’
‘Well, it’s bullshit. When I arrived, I tried to make friends with her, but she didn’t want to know. She only cared about sucking up to Raphael or going partying with the locals. She must have decided she wanted a friend on the waterfront at some point, and you were the chosen one. It was a hard watch at times.’
My face smarts. Was Izzy really as fake as Dom makes out? Was I that naïve?
Dom must sense my discomfort because his tone softens. ‘Listen, you were eighteen and had just lost your father, and she was a master manipulator. You had no chance. And more than that, it was a lifetime ago. Just file it under “past mistakes” and move on.’
‘But you didn’t move on,’ I note. ‘Moving out here. Staying in touch with Harriet.’
‘Yeah well, that was the long tentacles of Facebook. When I posted about buying a place out here, she messaged me and suggested coming out for a visit. Though it was more of a statement than a request. She travels a lot with her job, and I seem to be a stopping-off place for her when she needs some R and R.’
I laugh. ‘You always were too nice for your own good.’
‘Yeah, I was, wasn’t I?’ Dom smiles, then looks away. ‘But people learn, I guess.’
Lola
28th July
Lola fixes a new sparkly stud into her helix and tries to ignore the pounding in her chest. God, she hopes tonight is going to work. It’s either a genius idea, or the stupidest thing she’s ever thought of. She pulls on her favourite Urban Outfitters camo pants and a black sleeveless crop top, then pulls her bedroom door closed behind her and walks with purpose towards the hotel bar. Too quickly to back out.
She came up with the idea after she was introduced to Harriet, another one of her mum’s old work colleagues, who has shown up after hearing Mum was in town. Because the more she considers it, the more Lola thinks that her mum was right in the first place; there was someone else in the water that night. And with so many of the suspects now at the hotel, it was too good an opportunity to miss. She would organise a dinner together. The perfect opportunity to grill them all – in front of her mum.
Raphael is her number-one suspect – the argument, his mafia and police links, him showing up in the water, it all makes sense. But Jack is a close second – grief can make people do crazy things.
And she’s not ruling the others out either – Dom didn’t like Izzy, and he was swimming too. And if Anna was arguing with Raphael because she suspected an affair – Lola knows it’s just a guess, but why else do married couples argue about attractive single women? – then Anna might have killed her. And there’s also Raphael’s dad, Salvo. Patrick said he had a fishing boat, and his own brother was a gangster. She doesn’t know that he even knew Izzy, but that’s why she needs this dinner. To uncover more info.
She invited Jack first. She thought he might refuse – he and her mum don’t exactly get on – but he just shrugged and said, ‘Sure, why not.’ Dom predictably jumped at the offer, and Harriet seemed to invite herself before Lola could get the words out.
Lola then asked Patrick to invite his parents on her behalf, using Harriet showing up as an excuse. And he messaged her an hour ago to say they would be there.
It’s like an episode ofDeath in Paradise, and she’s proud of herself for setting it up. Although her strategy might be a little more basic than those tropical detectives. She’s just going to ask questions about the night Izzy died and watch everyone’s faces for clues. Twenty-one years is a long time to carry around that kind of guilt, and she’s hoping it will reveal itself if she prods hard enough.
She pauses to take a breath, fixes on a smile, and walks into the bar.
The first person she sees is Patrick serving drinks. He winks at her, and her stomach lurches. The second person is her mum, but she looks decidedly less happy.
