Never Ending (16 page)

Kyritos

The day after she danced in the street with Nikos, Shiv was eating with her family on the patio. The sun hung over the bay like a great golden balloon. Its slow descent would mark another day apart from Nikos, another day of failure to meet in secret.

Dont worry ill think of something
, his last text had said.

Monday evening. They were going home on Friday morning.

Shiv had little to say at dinner, her pasta lay mostly untouched. Mum and Dad were reminiscing about a previous holiday when a knock at the door interrupted them.

“It’ll be the concierge,” Dad said, going off to investigate. “Concierge” was what other, less expensive, holiday agencies called a “rep”.

“Can I fill in the evaluation form?” Declan asked.

“No,”
Mum said. “Not after last year.”

“Hell-
o
.” Dad; too loud, too friendly. “
Kalimera, kalimera
.” Then, two sets of footsteps approached on the path that ran down the side of the villa. Dad was the first to appear. “We have a visitor.”

And there was Nikos.

For a nanosecond, Shiv must have done the cartoon-shock thing: dropped jaw, raised eyebrows, eyes on stalks. Then she got a grip, composed herself, acted like Nikos’s arrival was the
least
surprising event in her entire life. She speared a pasta shell and popped it in her mouth. It tasted of rubber.

“Oh, sorry.” Nikos gestured at the table. “I’m interrupting your meal.”

“Not at
all
, Nikos,” Mum said, with her warmest smile. She tapped the dish. “There’s plenty left, if you’d care to join us.”

“Can we spare it?” Dad said, laughing. “Dec hasn’t had his third helping yet.”

“Dad.”
Her brother looked cross.

Nikos smiled politely. “It’s OK, thanks. I ate already.”

He was standing awkwardly, clutching a brown paper parcel in both hands like someone had just given it to him and he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“So, young man,” Dad said, “to what do we owe the unexpected pleasure?”

Shiv tried to catch Nikos’s eye, to flash him a warning. If that parcel was for her, if he’d turned up to make some kind of declaration (
I realize you may not approve, but your daughter and I…
) she would just crawl under the table and
die
. But he wasn’t looking at her, hadn’t looked at her the whole time.

“I just came by to give this to Declan,” he said.

It was her brother’s turn to look panicked. Confused.

Nikos handed him the parcel. “You said how much you liked mine, so I figured you’ll like one of your own.”

Shiv recalled Dec complimenting Nikos’s shirt the other day, in the pick-up, then blushing fiercely. He was blushing now as he pulled out a green-and-gold vest. For once, he was at a loss for words. Shiv couldn’t tell if he was pleased or mortified.

“Actually, it’s an old one I grew out of,” Nikos said, when Mum protested that he really
shouldn’t
have. “Clean, of course.”

“Nikos, it’s very kind of you,” Dad said. “
Isn’t it
, Declan?”

Her brother looked up, startled. “Oh, yeah. Yeah. Thanks.”

“I hope it fits,” Nikos said.

“It looks
perfect
,” Mum said, when Dec clearly had nothing else to say. “They both had such a great time windsurfing with you,” she went on. Shiv smiled inside at the kissed daughter and nearly drowned son that their mother had no idea about. “This one,” Mum said, nodding at Declan, “hasn’t stopped talking about you.”

Dec shot Mum a furious glance.

“I had the best time too,” Nikos said.

“Your English is
very
good, Nikos.”

“Mum,” Shiv cut in, “d’you think you could be just a
little
more patronizing?”

“I’m only saying—”

“If we can’t give you something to eat,” Dad said, “how about a beer?”

Nikos hesitated, flicked a look at Shiv.
Please say no
. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see him, but the thought of him (them) enduring an evening with Mum and Dad… What had Nikos been
thinking
, turning up here like this? If he stayed, Mum or Dad were bound to say something that gave away Shiv’s age.

“That’s nice of you, sir, but I’m meeting with some friends. Beach football. Just a kickabout.” Then, a little sheepishly, “Actually, we could use a couple of extra players … if anyone’s interested.”

“You
hate
football,” Declan hissed at her, as they followed Nikos along the narrow track through the sand dunes.

“
Someone
has to chaperone you.”

It was true, kind of. Choosing their words carefully to avoid offending Nikos, Mum and Dad had made it clear that they didn’t mind Declan playing – seeing as he was so keen – but, well, he
was
only twelve and, much as she didn’t want to, would Shiv mind going along as well? And they both had to be back at the villa before dark.

Her brother was wearing the green-and-yellow basketball vest. It was too big but, even so, she had to admit he looked pretty cool. “I should warn you, Nikos,” Dec called out, “that Shiv’s even worse at football than she is at windsurfing.”

“Hey,” Nikos said, “who needed rescuing?”

“For your information, I didn’t
need
rescuing, you
chose
to rescue me.”

Nikos laughed. “Is that right?”

“Yes, it is. It was a massive overreaction on your part.”

The game was already under way, the lines of the pitch scored in the flat sand vacated by the tide. Four motorcycle helmets marked out the goals. Three guys and a girl on one team, three guys on the other – all about Nikos’s age, as far as Shiv could tell. The game paused so Nikos could introduce everyone. Declan joined the team with the girl; Nikos and Shiv made up the other five. Shiv was aware of one or two curious looks being directed at Nikos for bringing them along.

Just then, she wished she hadn’t agreed to come.

But once the game resumed everyone forgot about her and Declan and just got on with hoofing the ball about. Shiv wasn’t even the worst player – that honour went to a guy on her team, Nikos’s cousin, Joss. He was shaven-headed, belly flopping out from under his T-shirt, and he cavorted about the pitch like a lunatic.

“Team joker,” Nikos remarked, when Joss broke up an opposition attack by picking up the ball, shoving it under his shirt and running to the other end of the pitch.

For much of the game, Shiv could barely kick the ball for laughing.

The other team won 15–9 (or 14–10, no one was sure) and Declan scored four, celebrating them with acrobatic high-fives with his team-mates.

“You’re
crazy
,” Shiv whispered to Nikos, in a time-out. “Turning up like that.”

He grinned. “Yeah, crazy to see
you
.”

“Oh, please. Who writes your scripts?” Inside, though, she was delighted.

“You handled it well. Little Miss Cool.”

Shiv pushed her hair back from her sweaty face. “So where’s
my
present? Dec gets a basketball shirt. What do I get?”

“You get to see me.”

“I get to play
football
with you. You and eight other people.”

“Let’s sneak off to the dunes then – nobody will notice.”

Of course he was teasing. In any case, the ball was back and play was ready to continue. For the rest of the match Shiv ached with the thought of them slipping off – and of what they might get up to, hidden away in the sand dunes.

By the end of the game it was dusk and hard to see the ball. Trainers and sandals were retrieved; water bottles shared out. Eventually, only Shiv, Dec, Nikos and his cousin Joss remained, the golden sand turned to oatmeal grey in the failing light.

Joss and Nikos had reclaimed two of the helmet “goalposts”.

“You have a motorbike?” Dec asked Nikos.

“Moped, yeah.” He pointed out two bikes on the road fronting the beach. “Fifty cc. It sounds like a really cross mosquito.”

Beside him, Joss stood with his crash-helmet under his arm. His bald head was waxy with perspiration and his thick, dark eyebrows looked like they’d been stuck on.

“Decalan, maybe one day you plays to Manchester Unite. Yes?” Dec grinned self-consciously. Turning to her, Joss said, “Sheev, sorry, but I think you not ever plays to Manchester Unite.” He patted her shoulder.

Shiv couldn’t help laughing. “Thank you, Joss. I appreciate your honesty.”

The four of them headed towards the mopeds; in Shiv and Declan’s case, to the track that branched off just before. At a beachside taverna, fish were being grilled. The drifting smoke conjured up an image of the bonfire at Lackanackathon on Easter Sunday, the flames consuming the effigy of Judas so completely Shiv could have believed she’d imagined him. Just charred scraps fluttering above the crowd, like black moths.

“I’ll walk up with you,” Nikos said.

Handing his helmet to Joss, he spoke to him in Greek and then the three of them were weaving a route through the dunes.

Shiv scrolled through different, impossible, ways to edit Declan out of the scene so that she and Nikos might be alone. Might lie in the sand together.

All too quickly the evening was coming to an end.

They reached the road to the villa. It was almost dark and the outside light glinted off the hire car. They stood around, unsure what to say or do.

Please, Dec, just go indoors
.

Nikos said goodnight, pulling Declan into a manly hug – Dec, stiff as a shop-window mannequin. Then, with mock formality, Nikos took Shiv’s hand between his.

“See you around,” he said. Just like that. Then he was gone, fading into the gloom.

Shiv waited till they were inside, till Dec had gone out to the terrace to find Mum and Dad, before slipping away to the bathroom. With the door bolted, she opened her hand to see what Nikos had pressed into her palm as they’d said goodbye.

Carefully picking apart the pink tissue-paper wrapping, she eased the gift open.

It was the preserved remains of the baby turtle that Nikos had passed round on the boat trip and which Shiv had told him was so beautiful.

10

At breakfast on their second Sunday at the Korsakoff Clinic – officially a rest day – Assistant Sumner informs them that a group picnic has been arranged.

“Miss,” Caron says, hand raised, “can I have
jam
in my sandwiches, please?”

Sumner, smile fixed, ignores the question. They are to meet on the front steps at noon, where she and Dr Pollard will escort them to the meadow next to the lake.

The lake. Shiv isn’t going anywhere near the lake. But when she stays in her room past noon, Sumner comes to fetch her.

“You’ve listened to me in Talk,” Shiv says. “You’ve read what I’ve written in Write. You
know
why I don’t want to go down there.”

“And
you
know why Dr Pollard wants you to.”

They spread out on tartan rugs around a wicker hamper and a cool box while Sumner and her boss hand out food and drink, plates and plastic beakers.

Shiv glances at the chain-link fence, with its sign:
DANGER: DEEP WATER
.

She shares a rug with Caron and Lucy. Sits with her back to the lake.

But it’s right there, on the other side of that fence. She can hear it lapping. Can smell its odour of damp earth and vegetation. Can picture its bluey-pewter surface stippled with sunlight and a scattering of coots and mallards. Her mind conjures another version too: rocks and crashing waves, the stink of salt and seaweed, the terrifying darkness of night. Her own screams.

“Ew,
tuna
.” Caron peels back the top of her sandwich.

Mikey is the only absentee.
Unwell
is the official explanation; but he seemed OK at breakfast. And he was fit enough to strip his room bare again. Shiv wonders if he hates water as much as she does and has snuck away somewhere, or simply did a better job than Shiv of saying no. She recalls that time she saw him from the window, down here, gripping the fence, staring at the lake. Shiv figures he wanted the sight of the water to remind him of his failure to keep Phoebe safe. Confronting the lake was another self-inflicted punishment. Or maybe he wished the fence wasn’t there so that he could throw himself in. Did he hate himself that much?

There was a time when Shiv’s counsellor worried that
she
might be suicidal. The woman was cautious in raising the subject – presumably, for fear of planting the idea in Shiv’s head. Her line was to find out if Shiv had ever thought ending her life would free her from having to cope with the enormity of what had happened. Suicide as a
release
.

Suicide as a means of
self-punishment
didn’t seem to occur to the counsellor.

“It’s a flooded gravel-pit, actually – not a natural lake,” she overhears Dr Pollard telling Helen, the words drawing Shiv from her thoughts. “Very cold and
very
deep.”

“No good for skinny-dipping, then?” Caron calls over.

The Director laughs. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Somehow, this spins off into a discussion about the Loch Ness Monster.

Shiv focuses on eating, not looking at the lake or thinking about it. Or about Mikey and suicide. She listens to a monologue from Lucy about how homesick she is, and how she’s going cold turkey from two weeks without texting, Facebook or phone calls. Shiv doesn’t miss any of it. She thought she would, but she doesn’t. If they relaxed the rules and let the residents phone their parents, Shiv isn’t at all sure she’d make the call – or what she’d say to Mum or Dad if she did. It’d be Dad she phoned; no point talking to her mother these days.
How’s it going?
Dad would ask. Meaning,
Are you getting better?
What would she tell him?
Yeah, I talk to Declan all the time. Hey, and guess what! He held my hand at Walk!

When everyone has finished eating, Assistant Sumner produces a Frisbee and organizes people into a circle on the grass. Shiv goes to join Dr Pollard on her rug.