The Holiday (43 page)

‘I think she’s dead,’ was all he said as between them they heaved Sally’s lifeless body into the boat.

Izzy’s heart sank. Dead? No! Oh, please, no. Not this outrageous young girl who had made them all laugh. Not this fun-loving soul who was so bright and vivacious with everything before her. Leaving Mark to haul himself in, she felt for a pulse, determined to find one. He had to be wrong. Pressing her fingers against Sally’s throat, she held her breath, blocked out everything else around her, willed the faintest flicker of life to reveal itself. Desperation made her think she had imagined it, and hardly trusting herself, she moved her fingers, then tried again. But yes. There it was. A pulse. No more than a flutter, but a sign of hope. Summoning all her first-aid knowledge, she started working at Sally’s chest to expel the water that had tried to claim her, then tilting her head back and pinching her nose, she breathed into her cold mouth. The taste of salt, vomit and alcohol on Sally’s lips made her want to retch, but she carried on relentlessly, filling her own lungs with air before steadily breathing it into Sally. She would not let her die. ‘Come on, Sally,’ she murmured, her hands pumping at the girl’s chest, her brain fighting to chase away the fear that she might fail. ‘Come on, Sally, you can do this. Come on.’ A sudden gurgling sound, followed by a twitch of movement beneath her hands, instantly renewed Izzy’s dwindling hopes. She turned Sally on to her side and said to Mark, ‘Have a look in that seat cupboard. Laura sometimes keeps spare towels in there.’

After a brief fumble, Mark passed Izzy two large beach towels and helped her wrap Sally, who was now shaking violently. ‘What about the boy?’ he asked. His voice was a rasping whisper, his breathing heavy, and crouching beside her, water pooling on the deck from his dripping jeans and shirt, she could hear his teeth chattering. Shivering with cold, his hair plastered to his head, his eyes dark and wild against the paleness of his face, she knew he was in shock. ‘He’s okay,’ she said, touching his arm to reassure him. ‘He made it to the raft, that’s where I left him.’ And thinking it might help Mark to recover by having something to do, she added, ‘Do you want to get us back?’ He stared at her blankly, as though not understanding. Then he nodded and moved to the front of the boat. After studying the controls, he turned it round and headed for the raft. Above the sound of the engine and Sally’s stifled sobs, Izzy could hear him cursing to himself. She had never heard such language: it was a furious litany of obscenities that made her wince as she cradled Sally in her arms.

Nick was waiting for them at the raft. He climbed in and took the towel Izzy offered him.

‘Is she okay?’ he asked, bending down to take a look at Sally. She was still crying and didn’t seem aware of his presence.

‘She’ll be fine,’ Izzy said, then, distracted by flashing beams of light on the shore by the jetty, she saw that Francesca was on her feet and that Max and Laura were with her. Corky was there too. The sound of the boat starting up must have disturbed them.

Pandemonium broke out when they got to the jetty. Everyone started talking at once. Max was beside himself with relief, thanking Mark and Izzy for what they had done, and Laura, who had been consoling Francesca, reached out to Sally and held her tightly. But there was anger too. Francesca’s relief that Sally was all right made her turn on Nick. ‘This is all your fault,’ she yelled at him. ‘It was your idea to go swimming. I told you not to, that you were both too drunk and too high. But you wouldn’t listen.’ She was screaming at him, tears running down her cheeks. ‘If you hadn’t been so keen to get off your head on dope none of this would have happened!’

Max’s face turned white. ‘Drugs?’ he hissed. ‘What drugs?’ He flashed his torch on Nick’s face.

‘Nothing heavy,’ said Nick, blinking in the light and clutching the towel around him. He was nothing like the cocky lad they were used to seeing. With his long hair clinging to his head and neck, and his thin legs poking out from beneath the towel, he looked pitifully young and vulnerable. ‘It was only a joint, you know, just recreational.’

From behind Izzy, where he had been pulling on his boots, Mark stepped forward and squared himself up in front of Nick. He took hold of him, lifted him clean off his feet and shook him. Really shook him. ‘You crazy little bastard,’ he raged. Then throwing him to the ground, he shouted again: ‘Spare us! Only a joint! Don’t you get it? Don’t you understand that because of you and your joint several people very nearly died here tonight? Can you live with that? Or maybe you’re so arrogant you think you can.’

Without another word, he stalked away into the darkness, leaving them not knowing what to say or do next.

It was Corky who took command. He helped Nick to his feet, and said, ‘Righty-ho, drama over. Let’s get everyone up to the villa and into some dry clothes. Laura, you take Sally, Max, you look after Francesca, Izzy, you and I will bring up the rear with young Nick.’

‘Um ... sorry to be a nuisance, Corky,’ Izzy said, as everyone started to move, ‘but I’m afraid I’ve turned my ankle again.’ In view of what had happened she felt ridiculous bringing attention to herself but she knew she wouldn’t be able to make the steep path without help. When she had decided that the best way to help Mark was to use Max and Laura’s boat, every step she had taken to the jetty had made her cry out with pain. Now her calf was swelling and throbbing unbearably.

It had been a terrible risk she had taken, but it had been all she could think to do. Max had shown her how to handle the boat on one of their many trips out in it, but she wasn’t sure how to start the engine. Then she remembered where Max kept a spare key and had been relieved to find that it was no more difficult than a car. The outboard motor had sprung into action first go. She had hauled in the anchor, untied the mooring rope, switched on the bow light and headed out into the bay to find Mark and the others.

Now, as Corky helped her and Nick up the path, a shiver went through her as she thought how differently it might all have ended if she hadn’t been able to start the engine.

In the warm of the villa, and while Max phoned the emergency number for the local doctor’s surgery, Laura made them tea. In the ensuing commotion Olivia was roused from her sleep and immediately fussed over Sally, wrapping her in Corky’s dressing-gown, and when that proved insufficient to stop her shivering as she lay on the sofa, Francesca holding her hand, she instructed Corky to fetch a blanket.

Feeling sorry for Nick, who was being held responsible for the near tragedy, Izzy limped across the sitting room and sat next to him. He was fully dressed now, in the clothes that he had earlier stripped off, but he was still cold and a little shaky. She put a comforting arm around his shoulders.

‘I think it would be best if I got going,’ he murmured, his head bent down to the floor.

‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘Have some tea first, then somebody will take you home.’

He shook his head dejectedly. ‘It would have been better if I’d drowned out there. It would save my parents the job of killing me when they discover what I’ve done.’

‘Don’t ever say that,’ she rebuked him. ‘Treat this as a warning not to be so stupid again. You and Sally survived by the skin of your teeth. Be glad for that.’

He looked up at her. ‘That bloke who saved Sally, why did he go berserk with me?’

‘Let’s just say he had his reasons. And if you’ve got any sense, you’ll give what he said some thought.’

 

The next morning, sitting on the veranda in the shade of the pergola, everyone was subdued with shock and lack of sleep. The plans that had earlier been set in motion for the day had been dramatically altered. Max, Corky and Olivia wouldn’t be the only ones flying back to England: understandably, Sally wanted to go home too, to be with her parents.

Max had phoned them after the doctor had confirmed that, though badly shaken, Sally was physically in good shape for somebody who had nearly drowned. Nobody had envied Max the job of explaining to Mr and Mrs Bartholomew what had happened, and his relief when he had handed the phone to Sally had been considerable. In the harsh brightness from the overhead spotlights in the kitchen where he sat at the table, his head bowed, he looked as if he had aged ten years in that one night.

With the decision made that Sally was to fly home, Laura had said that she would go too.

‘But why?’ Max had said, ‘there’s no need.’

‘Yes, there is, I know what you’ll do - you feel so bad about this, you’ll take Sally home to her parents and accept the blame for what’s happened.’

‘We could make sure he doesn’t do that,’ Corky said, ‘we’ll go with him.’

‘Thanks, but I’d rather be there myself.’

‘In that case, I’m coming with you,’ said Francesca.

Because it was clear that the holiday was now over for them all, Izzy said that perhaps she ought to return home as well.

But Max wouldn’t hear of it. ‘No, Izzy, with your ankle the way it is, you’re not going anywhere. Besides, there’s no reason for you to leave. Make the most of some quiet time on your own. Angelos and Sophia will take care of you. You won’t have to do a thing.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Laura, ‘please stay. It’s not fair that your holiday should be cut short. Francesca and I will probably be back in a couple of days, with Max following on as soon as he’s done what he needs to.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. Very sure,’ said Max, getting up from his chair and coming over to where she was sitting, her ankle heavily strapped and resting on a low table. He kissed the top of her head. ‘After what you did last night, this is the least we can do for you. If you and Mark hadn’t seen what was going on, the telephone call I had to make to Sally’s parents would have been very different.’

 

Just before lunch Max and Laura went to see Mark. They wanted to thank him for what he had done. They came back from Villa Anna a short while later, disappointed.

‘He wasn’t in,’ Max said. ‘I feel really bad that we haven’t been able to thank him. It was quite a risk he took swimming that far out to save Sally and I want him to know how grateful we are.’

Izzy kept to herself just how big a risk it must have been for Mark.
Being in or on water freaks the hell out of me.
She wondered at his extraordinary courage in doing what he had. She also remembered that they had agreed to meet down on the beach that morning, but that had been before the events of last night had overtaken them all.

 

An hour before everyone had to leave for the airport, they had visitors.

It was Harry with his parents. There was no sign of Nick. The relaxed atmosphere on the terrace immediately evaporated, and under the pretext of some last-minute packing, Corky and Olivia made themselves scarce. When Izzy struggled to her feet to make her exit and join them inside the villa, Virginia Patterson said, ‘Don’t go on our account, not when it’s you we need to thank.’

From her flat, unemotional tone, Francesca thought she had never heard gratitude so poorly expressed. Neither was there any evidence of it in the ghastly woman’s face.

‘It wasn’t just me,’ Izzy replied, settling down again. ‘It’s Mark you should really be talking to.’

‘We’ve tried,’ said Harry, ‘but there’s no answer. He must be out.’ His gaze moved from Izzy and came to rest on Francesca where she was sitting between her parents, both of whom were suddenly bristling as if they needed to vent their feelings.

‘Thank you, Harry,’ said his mother, ‘but I think your father and I are capable of handling this on our own.’

‘Yes,’ chipped in her husband, ‘that’s if you would allow us to get a word in.’

It was such an unnecessary put-down that Francesca coloured with indignation for Harry. How dare his parents treat him so offhandedly? But then she recalled how shamefully she had treated him last night, and knew she had to put things right between them before she left for home. In a voice loaded with contempt for his mother and father, she said, ‘Seeing as you’re not needed by your parents, Harry, perhaps you’d like to come and have a word with me. There’s something I’d like to say to you.’

She led him to the far end of the terrace where she knew they wouldn’t be heard or observed. Knowing she was short of time, she took the direct approach. ‘Look, I just want to say that I know I behaved appallingly last night, and I’m really sorry. The minute you left I regretted what I’d said. God knows what I was fired up on, but I’m more sorry than I can say. Perhaps if I hadn’t got so drunk ...’ she paused and stared down into the bay, ‘none of this mess would have happened ... I might have been able to stop Nick and Sally.’

‘I think it was me who fired you up,’ he said softly. ‘Maybe if I hadn’t humiliated you, you wouldn’t have felt the need to get drunk.’

‘When
you
humiliated
me?’

‘Yes. When I wouldn’t kiss you.’

She looked shamefaced. ‘I should never have tried to force you to do that. I knew you wouldn’t want to, not in front of everyone, but I still went ahead and did it. I wanted to prove to you, and your brother, that you could knock the spots off him any day.’

He smiled shyly. ‘Really?’

‘Yes, really. You’re miles more interesting than him. And it’s about time you realised that. You should also stand up to your parents. They were bloody awful to you just now.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Yes, I’d like to kiss you goodbye, if it wouldn’t be too horrible for you.’

‘You’re leaving?’

‘Change of plan. I’m going back home today with Sally and my grandparents. Mum and Dad are going as well. It seems the right thing to do.’

‘What time’s your flight?’

‘Soon.’ She checked her watch. ‘We’ve got to leave in three-quarters of an hour.

He moved in closer. ‘So it had better be a proper goodbye kiss, then?’

She nodded. ‘One to remember.’

Manoeuvring her up against a pillar, and taking off his glasses, he stroked the side of her face then kissed her for the longest and sweetest moment. When he stopped and drew away from her, he said, ‘Do you think you’d like to keep in touch, back in England?’