‘Where are you going?’ asked Sarah. ‘I thought we were trying to stay up for one last sunrise.’
‘I’m just going for a walk. I want to try and sober up a bit or I’ll feel terrible for the flight back tomorrow.’
Sarah ran after her as she walked up the sand.
‘Are you really feeling ill or are you just trying to torture yourself? ’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you might find Alex and Freya in flagrante behind the sand dunes.’
Grace felt unusually irritable. ‘Why are you talking in Latin? You’re not a lawyer yet, you know.’
Sarah raised her brows.‘Touchy,’ she said and Grace tried to smile.
‘I’m not torturing myself,’ she replied quickly. ‘Freya will want the luxury of soft cotton sheets, not some gritty sand dune. Anyway, I’m not bothered. I’m really not.’
‘He’s only eighteen, after all,’ said Sarah more kindly. ‘Probably a bit immature. There’re many more fish in the sea.’
Grace nodded as convincingly as she could. ‘I just need to walk off the drink. It’s a long flight back home.’
Sarah eyed her sceptically. ‘You sure?’
Grace nodded. ‘I’ll be fine.’
Catseye Beach was the longest on the island, a half-mile stretch of sand that shone like a silver ribbon in front of her. It got quieter and darker as she left the bonfire behind and Grace welcomed the isolation. Sarah had been right: the last thing she wanted was to catch Freya and Alex at it in the sand dunes, and she didn’t want to go back to the house because Freya’s room was next to hers.
What a cow, she thought angrily. Freya was supposed to be her friend! It was bad enough that she had been flirting with Grace’s father at dinner but what she had done with Alex was nothing short of a betrayal. She knew I was interested, we talked about it earlier on, she thought. Freya had never shown an interest in Alex before. Maybe that was it, maybe Freya just wanted to prove she could pull Alex. For some people friendship didn’t matter; everything was just a game. It was all about power, survival of the fittest.
And that was the real reason Grace was angry; she was angry at herself. She’d tried her best by the pool, inviting him on to the tiki swing, letting her kaftan slip off one shoulder ... She cringed. But she was an amateur. Freya was obvious. Subtlety never won prizes – not when it came to sex and eighteen-year-old boys ...
She had reached the end of the beach now and climbed inland through a thicket of red and black mangrove. The dark didn’t frighten her; she felt completely at home on the island and loved its remoteness from the world. As a child, she would pretend she was some character in Lord of the Flies and spend whole days exploring on her own, looking for sea turtles or exotic flowers.
She was walking up a steep path back towards the headland when she heard a rustle in the long grass next to her. Someone was sitting there, a familiar shape.
‘Alex?’ she hissed, squinting in the dark. ‘Is that you?’
He sat up holding a cigarette and notebook in the strong moonlight.
‘Writing some lyrics,’ he said, a little embarrassed.
Noting he was alone, Grace laughed, mainly from relief. ‘How can you see what you’re writing?’
‘Can’t really,’ he said, flicking his lighter so she could see the blank page in his book.
‘I see you’ve found your muse, then,’ she said, sitting down beside him.
‘Cheeky. These things take time,’ he replied defensively. ‘Keith Richards used to spend days writing songs without going to bed.’
‘Ah, but didn’t he have Mick Jagger to help him?’ she said, all the time her mind repeating, Where’s Freya? Where’s Freya?
She took a deep breath. Just bloody ask him.
‘Well, I didn’t think I’d see you for the rest of the night, lover boy,’ she said as casually as she could. Even in the moonlight, she caught the look of surprise on his face.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You and Freya.’
He gave a small laugh.‘No, no, nooo...’ he said.‘Much too scary.’
Grace raised a sceptical eyebrow, but Alex shook his head.
‘I mean it. At one point she was going on about some banker boyfriend with a massive cock and a Ferrari. I don’t want her talking about me like that.’
‘Which bit? Your cock or your Ferrari?’
She felt her cheeks flush and was glad of the dark.
Think obvious, she chided herself.‘Want to go back to the beach?’ she asked and he helped her up, then followed her, stumbling and cursing at hidden tree roots and branches.
‘Anyone would think you’d never been to paradise island before,’ teased Grace when they were safely back on the sand. They walked along the beach in silence, occasionally looking up at the vast starry sky, the only sound their footsteps and the gentle lap of the waves.
‘You glad you came?’ she asked softly.
‘Obviously I’d rather be in Macclesfield right now.’
She giggled. ‘What are you going to do when you get back?’ she asked. ‘I mean, you don’t start music college until September, right?’
‘Miles is talking about a trip around Europe but I’d need to get a job first. My mate says there’s something going at Piccadilly Records, this really cool record shop in Manchester, but it’s a long shot. Anyway, anything’s going to be a bit of a comedown after this.’
‘Maybe you could have a working holiday.’
He pursed his lips thoughtfully.
‘You could go to the Cote d’Azur and be gigolos. Like Richard Gere in that film.’
‘Except he got framed for murder, didn’t he?’ Alex smiled.
‘Without the murder.’
‘Anyway, I’d be with Miles. Can you see him waiting tables in some Greek taverna?’
‘No, I can’t.’
‘Can I tell you something?’ he asked.
‘Of course, what is it?’
Alex shrugged. ‘I don’t want to go to the Royal Academy.’
It was Grace’s turn to gape. ‘But didn’t you get a full scholarship? I thought you were like the most promising musician in the country or something?’
He looked away, embarrassed. ‘Yeah, but it’s not what I want. I want to get on with playing music, get into a band, start gigging, all that. Studying Gregorian chants or Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony just doesn’t seem like as much fun. I’d actually rather be going to art school – all the best bands formed at art school: Roxy Music, Talking Heads, Devo . . .’
‘I can see you now. Long hair, spray-on leather pants, an electric-blue guitar . . .’
‘I’m never going to wear spray-on leather kecks,’ said Alex with feeling.
‘Oh you say that now, but wait until you start as a gigolo.’
She paused and observed his bleak face. ‘So why are you going there then?’
‘Because it’s the Royal Academy of Music,’ he said expansively. ‘Because it’s my mum’s dream that I go there.’
Grace laughed. ‘Ah, now that sounds familiar.’
‘Because it will break her heart if I don’t. She’s made so many sacrifices for me over the years.’
‘She’s your mum. She wants the best for you. She wants you to be happy.’
Alex met her gaze. ‘So why haven’t you told your dad you want to go to Oxford?’
She felt a prickle of shame. ‘How do you know about that?’
‘You told me in Bristol. Then I heard your dad talking at dinner about you joining the company in August. I asked him about your MA course at Oxford and he looked at me as if he had no idea what I was talking about.’
She felt startled, panicked. ‘Oh, no. You didn’t mention that, did you? I’ve not told him. Not yet anyway.’
‘Bigmouth strikes again.’
‘No, I’m glad,’ she said, not entirely convincingly. ‘It needs to be said. At least now it might not come as such a big surprise.’
Alex nudged gently
into her. ‘Wherever we end up, we will stay in touch, won’t we?’ he said finally.
A beam of excitement pierced through her worry. ‘Sure. We could go to, er, a gig or something.’
‘You should come up to Manchester,’ said Alex. ‘We could go to the Haç.’
‘The Haç?’
‘The Haçienda,’ he said, as if it was blindingly obvious.‘You know, the club? One night a week, they even have a swimming pool.’
‘Ah, yes,’ said Grace, keen not to look completely square. ‘Loads of girls on E stripping down to their G-strings lost in love and a wall of sound? I guessed you’d like that.’
‘Of course,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘Or we could go out in London. I’ve never been to the Mud Club. Or the Wag.’
‘But I might be in Oxford.’
‘Then we can go punting.’ He laughed.
They kept on walking around the sandy headland. This far away from the house, it was almost pitch black, with just watery moonlight to light their way. Scrambling over a patch of rocks, Alex reached back to take Grace’s hand, and even when they reached the flat sand again, he kept hold of it. Grace’s heart was pounding, her mouth dry and she didn’t dare talk, frightened of breaking the magic.
Just kiss him, you bloody idiot, she willed herself. It’s now or never.
‘Alex,’ she whispered, turning towards him.
‘Hey, is that Sasha?’ he said suddenly, looking up the path.
Grace felt her heart sink. ‘Think so.’
‘Should we hide?’ He gave her a small embarrassed grin and then dropped her hand. Grace knew the moment was over. She walked on towards the dark figure, feeling as if her heart might break.
8
At the top of Catseye Cove Sasha was feeling sick. Alcohol and a few more hits of cocaine were swirling around in her bloodstream, but the main reason for her nausea was an unfamiliar sense of guilt and – most of all – the horror that she had done something which could not only rock the boat, but could completely capsize it altogether.
What the hell was I thinking? she thought, kicking her toes against the sand. Why work so hard to hook Miles only to throw it all away on some nobody?
She breathed deeply, as she had been taught in yoga, and was just beginning to contain her emotions when she saw Miles emerge out of the undergrowth. His shirt was untucked and he looked unsteady on his feet.
‘Where the fuck have you been?’ she demanded irritably.
Miles shot her a look of disdain. ‘Just walking,’ he said.
‘For the past two hours? I’ve been everywhere looking for you, worried out of my mind.’
‘I’ve been with Alex if you must know. What are you doing keeping tabs on my every movement anyway?’
Over his shoulder, Sasha saw a figure appear out of the darkness. She recognised the tall, slim silhouette instantly and her eyes narrowed.
‘Well there’s Alex now with your sister. I thought you said you were with him? Well?’
Miles just waved a weary hand at her, like he was swatting a fly.
‘You’re such a fucking nag,’ he said, looking as if he wanted to strangle her.
Sasha felt her stomach lurch again. Winding Miles up really wasn’t helping matters. She had allowed her feelings to run away with her in that tiny cabin; she mustn’t do it again – not ever. No, now she needed to get back to what she was good at: twisting men around her little finger. She hung her head and nodded.
‘You’re right, I’m sorry,’ she said. It pained her to say it, but needs must. ‘I’m just a bit pissed, you know? And I was worried sick, I thought you’d been bitten by one of those horrid spiders or something. ’
She stepped in closer and put her arms around his neck but he just pushed her away.
‘Not right now, OK?’ he whispered, looking towards the approaching Alex.
Sasha had to struggle to keep her face impassive. What was his problem? Then she had a sudden horrible thought. Surely he didn’t know? It would be just like the Ashfords to have hidden CCTV cameras around the island, she thought, suddenly resentful of their wealth. Or do I smell of sex?
She watched with annoyance as Grace and Alex walked towards them. God, their timing was terrible. Or was it . . . ?
‘All right?’ asked Alex. He looked subdued and slightly embarrassed. Sensing a scandal, Sasha looked at Grace’s face. Yes, she looked a bit upset too. Hmm, I wonder what those two have been up to, she thought, making a mental note to do some more digging. You never knew when a little detail like that could come in handy.
‘Well, we’re glad you’re here, aren’t we, Miles?’ said Sasha with a flash of inspiration. ‘It’s much more fun with four.’
‘What is?’ asked Alex.
She crossed her arms and pulled off her dress in one movement. ‘Skinny-dipping.’
She was glad to see that Alex’s eyes practically popped out on stalks.
Grace laughed nervously. ‘I don’t think so. It will be freezing.’
‘Come on, the sea’s lovely,’ said Sasha, feeling Alex’s eyes on her.
‘I’m game,’ he said, looking at Grace hopefully.
‘Has nobody ever seen Jaws?’ asked Grace. ‘That bit at the beginning where that blonde girl goes running off into the water and the next thing you know she’s in pieces on the seashore.’
‘Come on, it’s our last night,’ said Sasha persuasively. ‘Let’s have some fun!’
She ran off towards the sea. After a moment’s hesitation, Alex pulled off his top and followed, turning back to look for Grace.
‘Come on!’ he shouted.
‘There’s no way I’m taking all my clothes off in front of my little brother,’ she said.
‘You don’t have to take everything off,’ said Alex playfully. ‘Not all at once, anyway.’
‘Oh . . . all right.’ She grinned, kicking off her flip-flops and running after the others.
Sasha threw her bra and knickers on to the beach and splashed into the cold salty water. That would get rid of the smell of sex for certain. Turning back to the shore, she smiled to herself as Grace coyly stripped to her bra and black cotton knickers cut low across her pale thighs like PE shorts. No wonder she was pale, thought Sasha. She’d been hiding under a sarong for most of the week.
Alex kept his boxers on as he ran into the water, but Miles stayed on the shore, watching. Sasha turned back towards him, standing waist-deep in the water. She knew she looked good, like some exotic mermaid or Ursula Andress in that Bond film.
‘Come on in, the water’s lovely,’ she said, as he waded reluctantly towards her.
As soon as he was close enough, she pulled him towards her and pressed her naked breasts against his chest, then whispered in his ear, ‘We’ve never had sex in the sea.’
Miles glanced at her, a twisted smirk on his mouth. ‘Maybe it’s not in your manual.’
‘What manual?’ She flinched.
Miles laughed. ‘The Complete Guide to Sexual Ecstasy, I believe it’s called,’ he said, enjoying her discomfort. ‘I found it in your case.’
Despite the cool water Sasha felt her cheeks flush. ‘What have you been doing rooting around in my case?’
‘I could say the same about you,’ he said with a flash of anger. ‘I came back to the room and all my coke had gone.’
Sasha searched for something to say, but found herself at a loss. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that getting angry would get her nowhere. It wasn’t too late to rescue the situation, especially as she was naked.
She pushed her erect nipples against her boyfriend and stroked his chest. ‘What’s wrong with you tonight?’ she asked softly.
‘Nothing,’ he said flatly.
‘There is. I only want to help.’
He turned away from her. ‘Don’t get all needy on me, Sasha.’
‘I’m not needy,’ she said petulantly.
‘Yes you are, you’ve been pawing at me all night. All holiday in fact. You’re suffocating me.’
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Sasha just blinked at him. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.
Miles glanced up at her, then looked away again. ‘Look, I think when we get back to England it’s best if we spend a bit of time apart,’ he said quietly.
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