Against the Tide (11 page)

‘Come on, Jack, you've been swimming without your trunks before.'

I batted her hands away, released the buckle myself and let gravity take over. There was no way I could control the erection and she giggled when I eased my underpants over it before I dropped them to the concrete floor.

‘My, my – I think that little rudder will slow you down.'

‘What do you mean
little
?'

But she was gone, running off down the alleyway, her feet pattering softly as she weaved her way to the terrace. I struggled furiously with the laces of my boots and gaiters, tripping over the jumbled clothes and almost fighting my way out of the cabin. When I reached the top of the steps, she was dancing about on the concrete starting blocks twenty-feet below.

‘Wait, Rachel. Don't dive, you'll make too much noise.' But it was too late. She had plunged in and disappeared under the black water.

I hurried after her. There was no way I was going to jump or dive in this state so I waded down the short flight of steps, gasping as the cool water rose to my waist. I could hear her splashing about as she surfaced.

‘Quiet,' I hissed, ‘swim slowly to the raft.' I stepped lower, enjoying the tingle on my skin as the sea sucked me under, took a deep breath and swam breaststroke along the sandy bottom towards the closest moored raft. It felt very strange without a costume and she was right about the rudder effect. The water bubbled away as I let out a silent laugh.

I surfaced once for air but she was nowhere in sight. I dived again and propelled myself to the wooden platform. I'd once been too frightened to dive under and surface into the pocket of air, yet it was a fascinating experience once I had plucked up the courage.

I had to go quite deep to avoid the empty copper tanks, which provided the flotation, before I popped up with barely enough room to keep my head above the inky water. The club had purchased the large rafts from the company which had scrapped the RMS
Mauretania
for seven pounds each – a bargain, we'd been told. They were certainly well made and it was fun hiding under there and listening to the swimmers jumping about on top.

There was still no sign of Rachel then, suddenly, she slid up behind me and clasped me round the neck.

‘This is fabulous.' She sounded so carefree, as if the last thirty minutes had never happened. Would I ever understand women? I felt her nipples rubbing against my back and was suddenly aware of my rudder again.

The raft had drifted closer to the bridge and I could stand on tiptoe. I spun around and wrapped my arms around her, pressing her breasts into my chest. My former patron saint of travel now dangled round her neck, a silver shield between us. She gasped as the top of her thighs brushed against my stiffness then giggled again.

‘I apologise. It is not so little. Not that I have any experience of rudders. For all I know, amongst rudders, it might be considered a very small one indeed.'

Before I could reply, she found my mouth and pressed her salty tongue into mine.

Despite the cool water, I was burning. I couldn't tell whether it was with desire or embarrassment. I felt awkward, guilty. I shouldn't be doing this, yet I wanted to caress her, run my hands along the curve of her spine and down to her firm buttocks. I wanted to lose myself in her but instead I broke off the kiss and turned myself so that I pressed into her side and away from the danger area of her thighs. She moaned but I hugged her and kissed her forehead, trying desperately to subdue the evidence of my arousal. I had to start behaving like the gentleman she believed me to be rather than taking advantage of her emotional confusion. While this sounded good to my thinking brain, the other one didn't agree so I thought of frozen rivers of blood and the despair in my uncle's voice. That worked.

I let her rest against me, felt her heart beating. We stayed in a comforting embrace for a few more minutes but I was losing the battle. She stirred against me, her hand moved slowly south. I shuddered then she kissed me with such completeness that those frozen rivers turned into hot springs and I eased myself into her.

It was a strange sensation – the cold water sucked around us as she moved freely. I lost myself in her rhythm but tried to detach myself to prolong the moment as Caroline had taught me. But Rachel was so genuine, so absorbed in me, so determined, that I couldn't. The heat shot through me and into her. We both shuddered but she kept her lips tight to mine, grabbed my buttocks and pulled me deep into her. Her heart thudded against my chest and our breathing echoed against the metal barrels.

Eventually she eased away and I ducked my head under, luxuriating in the coldness. She joined me and tried to kiss my lips but bit my nose instead. I could feel the bubbles from her giggles tickling my chin.

We broke the surface and even though it was pitch-black, I could sense her smile.

‘I feel much better now. Thank you, Jack. Thank you.'

My laughter exploded, shaking the planking. She joined in until we shivered with the release of tension and of the awareness of the chilly water and the reality of what we had done.

She spoke softly, ‘Should we swim back now and try to dry ourselves?'

‘Of course, I know where I can find a towel.'

We ducked under the raft and swam side by side until we reached the steps. Her body glistened in the reflections off the water as she mounted the steps. She paused and turned to me. ‘It'll be alright won't it? With the cold water, nothing could happen. Could it?'

My stomach lurched. Caroline would have known, wouldn't have asked. Old wives' tale? How many old wives made love under cold water? I forced my words up from the depths. ‘You'll be – I mean, we'll be fine.'

I was about to reach out and pull her back for a reassuring kiss when our world exploded in a blaze of light. The beams from three torches pounced on our heads.

‘Now, what have we here?

I recognised Brewster's voice and felt like a bucket of ice had been thrown over us. Rachel splashed back to hide behind me, modest now in front of the two policemen and the club manager.

Brewster handed two towels to me. He turned to the policemen. ‘I'm sorry about this. These two are club members. This was obviously a silly prank. The woman who telephoned you must have been mistaken about burglars breaking in. Please let me handle this now. I'm sure they have an explanation for their behaviour. If not, I will want to talk to their parents about their state of undress.'

‘Oh God, no. Please, Mr Brewster, please don't tell my parents. It would kill them.' Rachel's voice crackled with fear.

‘Good night then, sir.' The policemen grinned then swung their torches onto the granite steps and climbed up to the terrace. Brewster waited for us to wrap the towels around ourselves then led us to his office.

As we followed him, I was sure I could see a Bugatti parked outside the telephone box opposite the Ommaroo Hotel.

12

Tuesday Morning – Palace Hotel

‘Sorry.'

‘Uh. Sorry?'

‘Yes, about yesterday.'

‘
Sajnos,
eh? Words cheap. You say “sorry”. I want you swim “sorry” – now work apology. You think I have nothing better to do than stand and watch you?
Fereg!
'

I assumed
fereg
wasn't a compliment in either Romanian or Hungarian and lowered myself into the pool. I'd never seen Miko angry before. I felt guilty about not turning up yesterday and being late again this morning. He was doing this for nothing, after all. I'd swim off my apology but I felt so tired.

I'd fallen asleep just before I was meant to wake Alan. We were then too late for me to drive him to the harbour, get back and collect
Boadicea.
Father had driven him instead, insisting I follow behind. After we'd seen Alan up the gangplank and onto the steamer, he'd turned on me and given me a lecture about responsibility, arriving home late at night, fouling up his morning and riding Fred's bike. Rather than argue, I'd let his anger wash over me, keeping my clenched fists hidden behind my back. Puzzled by my silence, he'd stalked off, kicked the car's tyres and driven away. I'd heard some clapping from the deck above and turned to see Alan and a few of his friends applauding ironically. When he returned on Friday, I'd warm his ears for him.

Now Miko was acting like my father. Bugger the lot of them. Instead of warming up slowly, I sprinted the first four lengths and worked off my frustration.

Exhausted, I hung my arms on the poolside, gasping for breath.

‘So, this is good training, eh? You finish before you start. Why I bother with you? Why I waste my time?'

I glared at him.

He glared back at me. ‘
Fereg!
'

There was more to this than being late for training. God, he didn't know about Rachel, did he? It wasn't possible. He couldn't have seen her yet, not at this hour.

‘What's this
fereg
, an insult?'

‘No insult. Just truth. It mean “useless worm”– like you – useless worm. Now swim, or go home.'

I spat out a mouthful of water just short of his sandals, turned and swam another four lengths at half-pace, plotting revenge.

‘Better, now you ready to train?'

‘Yes.'

‘We begin. You swim ten lengths feet only, ten lengths arms only.' He threw the cork float at me.

I hated this type of training

‘Whatever you say, Doctor Pavas.'

That got his attention. He squatted down so that our faces were inches apart. His ice-blue eyes pierced mine. ‘You speak to your uncle? I see. You wish to talk more, waste more time, or swim?'

That's it. No more sarcasm. I snapped. ‘I'm fed up. Do this, do that. No argument. You know best. But you don't even swim yourself. You're just an academic. It's all talk.'

He peeled his cap from his head and rubbed it across his brow then smiled as though he had been expecting my outburst. ‘So, Jerk, you need lesson. You think I all talk, perhaps cannot swim? How fast you swim twenty-five yards?'

‘You know bloody well. You're the one with the stop watch.'

‘Yes,' he dangled it in front of me, ‘it say twelve seconds with dive. You slow after that and make one minute one second for the race. Too slow.'

‘I'd like to see you do better.' I'd made the challenge. He could smell my feet if he accepted.

‘Out. We race. One length.'

I hauled myself out and stood next to him. He was at least three inches shorter and twenty years older. This could be embarrassing for both of us, but I'd committed myself now.

‘Aren't you going to change?'

He looked at me in surprise. ‘Why? This is not difficult race.'

He must be mad. Polo shirt, shorts with pockets. He'd sink. I watched as he kicked off his sandals, removed the stopwatch and some bits and pieces from his pockets, then tightened his belt.

He stepped to the side to take his marks.

‘How much start do you want?'

‘I no need start, Jerk. You go when ready.'

This had to be a bluff. I was the fastest swimmer over this distance on the island. He was old and wearing clothes. He'd wait for me to dive in then stand and laugh at me. I realised that would be the best result and took my position.

As soon as he crouched, I launched myself into a shallow racing dive and applied maximum effort. He was on my blind side and I was conscious of some movement alongside. I thrashed the water like a mad man, held my breath and reached for the wall. He was sitting on it. He'd beaten me by a body length, wearing clothes. Thank God no one had been watching.

I fought for breath. He patted me on the head. His breathing seemed normal. His shirt, with the red ILSA logo, clung to his back. His shorts dripped onto the concrete but he didn't seem to be out of breath. He dried his face on my towel.

The sun caught his back and, through the wet shirt, I could see the outlines of deep scars. I gasped.

He turned in surprise. ‘What?'

I pointed to his body. ‘Your back, Miko. What happened to your back?'

He motioned me out of the pool and pressed the towel into my hands. ‘You do not want to know.'

‘I do, Miko.'

‘And so do I.' Rachel stepped from behind the hut and my stomach somersaulted. She looked so attractive standing there, without make-up, in a simple frock, hair loose and natural.

So, she'd seen my humiliation.

‘I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been spying. I came to see Miko. I thought you'd be gone by now. Jack, you look like a stranded fish. Close your mouth.'

I studied her. Eyes red-rimmed and puffy. She'd not slept either. I wanted to hug her, kiss her. Instead, I closed my mouth.

Miko looked at both of us and grimaced. ‘This is not story for sunny morning. You not want to hear this.'

Rachel looked at me. I nodded. She spoke softy. ‘I think we do.'

‘Once this is told, it cannot be unsaid, you understand.' There was a sorrow in his tone which made me hesitate.

‘Please, Miko.' I looked at Rachel and she nodded again.

‘So be it. You have been warned. It will hurt me to tell. You still wish this?'

I was no longer sure but Rachel moved closer and touched his arm. ‘Please share this hurt with us. We are your friends. We won't tell anyone else.'

He sighed in resignation and slowly peeled his shirt over his shoulders and turned his back to us. The sun was still low and it highlighted the devastation. Ridges of weals and welts criss-crossed his spine. Interspersed with these were blackened pits where the skin had scarred over. Rachel pulled her hand over her mouth. She looked sick.

‘Is not pretty but does not hurt and I have good movement – enough to beat Jerk.'

‘Who did this to you?' Rachel reached out tentatively to touch his abused flesh.

‘The “Iron Guards” at Makó.'

We must have looked puzzled.