This Way to Paradise

by Cathy Hopkins

  When she said that, I laughed so hard that I spat out my muesli and of course it had to be just when Joe was walking past. An oat flake flew out and stuck to his upper left arm.

  Oh noooooooooooooooooo, I thought as he gave us the briefest nod. He was looking really cool in black jeans and a greyT-shirt with the Superman logo on the front. I hoped that he hadn’t noticed the flake but, after he’d gone past a few feet, without even looking down, he flicked the flake off with the forefinger of his right hand. Oh double nooooooooooooo, I thought. Why do I always have to act the village idiot when he makes an appearance?

  ‘Does he always keep to himself?’ I asked, watching him go to the table with yogurts and fresh fruit.

  Kate followed my gaze. ‘Who? Joe? Dunno,’ she said. ‘I know he’s been here a few times but never at the same time as me before. Back in London, he’s quite the party boy though. I heard Mum and Lottie talking about him. He wants to go to art college after school apparently. Mum said he’s signed up to do some of the art classes here, that is when he’s not working.’

  Oh no, no, nooooooooo, I thought, that’s it then. No way can I go and do those classes now. If I did, he’d think I was doing them because he was. Annoying, annoying.

  ‘Hey,’ said Kate. ‘Why don’t you show him some of your paintings when we get back to London? You could do the ‘come up and see my etchings’ line and, he will be so impressed, he’ll fall at your feet in worship.’

  ‘You’ve changed your tune. Back in London, you warned me off him.’

  Kate laughed. ‘I know but, let’s face it, bad boys have their appeal. I could see on the way over here that you really do like him and I would never stand in the way of true love.’

  ‘True love? Yeah, right,’ I said. ‘No chance. Somehow I think Joe has made up his mind about me.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘That I am too young, too stupid, too . . .’ I made my eyes go cross-eyed and my mouth go squiffy. My best zombie look. ‘I don’t know.’

  Of course this was at the exact moment that Joe sat at the end of the table and glanced over at me. I straightened my face and gave him a weak smile. He smiled back, but I could tell what he was thinking and that was: that girl is totally bananas. Queen of the whole fruit bowl in fact.

  Kate leaned over. ‘So change his mind,’ she whispered.

  ‘Nah,’ I said. ‘Not really interested. Not really my type.’

  Kate laughed. ‘Which is why you went pink when he walked past and why you can’t stop looking at him.’

  ‘Kate.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Shut up.’

  She laughed again, but she did shut up and finish her croissant.

  After breakfast, we dropped in to see Aunt Sarah in her office, then we caught the shuttle bus from the car park outside reception into the town that we’d driven through the day before. This is more like it, I thought as we cruised the shops in the narrow lanes there and tried on sunglasses, sniffed all the scented candles and tried on jewellery and sandals. I bought a sleeveless white T-shirt like Anisha’s, a pair of white cotton trousers and some postcards and Kate bought an ankle bracelet. Then we went to one of the many cafés lining the front where some stunning yachts and boats were anchored. We ordered café lattes and sat back to enjoy the sun and the view. It was a great place to people watch – all sorts of shapes and sizes strolled past, while others pottered and posed on the boats moored in the harbour.

  Once again, Kate gave me her take on the people who went past, who they were and why. ‘. . . The tall man who looks like a giraffe. Now, he’s on holiday with his new wife.’ (Clearly it was his mother.) ‘Sadly she stayed too long in the sun last year and smoked too many cigarettes and has prematurely aged. He won’t mind, though, because he’s with her for her money. That little girl over there in the red shorts?’ (She pointed to a man and his small daughter.) ‘She looks about eight? Wrong. She’s sixty-four. Got carried away having face lifts and plastic surgery. Sad really, some people just don’t know when to stop. And here comes Mr and Mrs Wide-eyed Sweetie. They’re just married. On honeymoon. He has yet to discover that she is a man and, although now called Betty, she used to be Keith.’

  As she continued her observations, I was laughing so hard that I didn’t notice Tom and Robin creep up behind us. They joined us for coffees and Tom told me a little about the island and what there was to do there. Eat, swim and sunbathe seemed to be the main activities on offer. All things I can do, I thought, making a note of his recommendations of various cafés to try.

  After our coffees, we walked back through the lanes to the car park. Judging by the easy familiar way that Tom and Kate were being with each other and their linked arms, I could tell that, when she had disappeared yesterday, it had been to see him. Their relationship had clearly moved on a notch since we had all got off the plane. I walked along behind them with Robin and we went through the usual getting to know each other better stuff – like asking questions about schools and where we lived, what music we liked, what websites and so on.

  ‘What’s your star sign?’ I asked.

  ‘Virgo. You?’

  ‘Gemini with Sagittarius rising.’

  ‘Oh. You into all that stuff then?’

  ‘I know a bit. Me and my mate Erin read up about it back in Ireland.’

  He linked arms with me. ‘So do Virgos and Geminis get on then?’

  ‘Um. Yeah. Think so,’ I lied – I seemed to remember that Virgo was an earth sign and Gemini was an air sign, so they weren’t the most compatible.

  ‘You got a boyfriend?’

  ‘No. We only just moved to London,’ I replied.

  ‘What about back in Ireland before the move?’

  ‘Nope. No one special.’ I really hoped that he didn’t think he was in with a chance with me because, on seeing him for a second time, it only confirmed that, though a nice enough guy, he so wasn’t my type.

  At the car park, we piled into their open-topped jeep and, with Tom driving, took off back along the coast road to a beach they knew on the west side of the island. I felt really glam sitting in the back of the jeep with my shades on and, once or twice, I saw people checking us out as we drove past. I had to get out my baseball cap to put on at one point because my hair was flying about so much that, I was sure that if I didn’t, I was going to arrive at the beach with my hair sticking up like a troll. Not a great look.

  The beach wasn’t too busy and had a taverna at one end and sunloungers at the other. Tom paid a deckchair boy for some beds and we set about the serious business of sunbathing. It wouldn’t be long before I looked as brown as one of the locals, because I inherited my father’s olive skin which tans easily and doesn’t burn. Tom and Kate slathered lotion all over each other and I could see that Robin had the same idea about applying some on to me and vice versa. When he asked, I did put some on his back and then quickly squirted some over myself and rubbed it in before he had a chance to offer. I think he got the message and didn’t push it. As I lay back, watching people dip in and out of the sea, and felt the warmth of the sun of my skin, I began to feel relaxed for the first time in days.

  At lunchtime, we padded along the sand to the taverna and had delicious feta cheese salads with fresh basil and tomatoes that tasted sweet and juicy. The boys and Kate drank beers and I had Coke. After lunch, as we strolled back to our sunloungers, Tom picked up Kate, put her over his shoulder, then ran into the sea and threw her in. Robin looked over at me, but I was too quick for him and sprinted down the beach where I went in on my own. In my own time. I’ve never been one of those people who can dive right in. I have to do it stage by stage, unless it’s the Indian ocean, which is like walking into a warm bath. The ocean here, however, was the Mediterranean and not warmed up yet (if it ever was). First I went in knee-deep, then hip-deep, then had a quick dip up to my shoulders. There were some undercurrents that were so cold it took my breath away. Robin came in after me. Straight in, but even he shrieked when he realised
how cold it was. I took a really deep breath and ducked myself in properly. After a few seconds, it felt lovely and I swam out about fifty metres, then put my arms out, fell back and let myself float. I love doing that. It’s one of the fabbest feelings in the world – the salt water keeping you up, a blue sky above. Heaven.

  After our swim, we all had a doze in the sun. Then, Tom drove us back up to the centre where Aunt Sarah insisted he and Robin stay for supper with the rest of the guests.

  ‘I’m so pleased that he and Kate have hooked up,‘Aunt Sarah said to me when we went up to the buffet to get our meals. ‘Ed and Marcia Stourton have had a place on the island for over twenty years and know all the right people here. Good family to keep in with and I think he’ll be a good influence on her.’

  I nodded and smiled, but I wasn’t as sure that ‘good influence’ was the right description for Tom who had ‘bad boy’ written all over him. I decided not to share my opinion with Aunt Sarah nor tell Kate about how pleased her mother was that she was spending time with him. Knowing Kate, she’d dump him immediately just to annoy her.

  ‘And how are you, India? Settled in OK?’ asked Aunt Sarah.

  I nodded again. I could honestly tell her that I was fine. It’s amazing how your experience of a place can change in just one day, I thought, helping myself to roasted vegetables and couscous and going to sit with my new friends. It was so totally opposite to how lonely and strange I had felt last night. I only wished that Joe had been there so that he could see what a popular person I was, who made friends easily, but sadly he was nowhere to be seen.

  Ah well, there’s always tomorrow, I thought as I tucked into my supper.

  Chapter 9

  Idiot Me

  As the week went by, Kate and I fell into an easy routine. Breakfast at the centre, have a laugh and make up stories about the ‘inmates’, then a catch-up with Aunt Sarah, who always seemed to be preoccupied with a million things to do. I began to understand how Kate felt about her – she did treat us as if we were on her list of things to do. Check daughter and niece still alive. Tick. Both present and correct. Is Kate’s mobile charged so she’s reachable wherever she is? Tick. And off she’d go on to the next item.

  After breakfast, I’d tidy my side of the room that I shared with Kate. It was funny because it soon looked like there was an invisible line separating it into two halves. Mine was neat and tidy – not a thing out of place. Kate’s half was a total mess. Her sheet was always thrown back and the bed was covered with stuff: her bag, her phone, clothes, nail polish, make-up, tissues, gum, chocolate bar wrappers. I offered to tidy up for her, but she did the raised eyebrow thing, pointed at my side and said, ‘Your space,’ then pointed to her side: ‘My space.’ I nodded. Understood.

  Next, I’d e-mail Erin, Mum, Dad and the boys from the cyber room, which was adjacent to Aunt Sarah’s office in reception. Not that it seemed that anyone apart from Erin could have cared less whether I kept in touch or not. Dad sent a hurried message one day. Darling India, hope you’re having fun. Busy busy. Dad. Pff to that, I thought. Mum sent a slightly longer one but it didn’t sound like she was missing me much either. Too busy busy too, having fun with Dad. Pff to her as well. Dylan sent an article about sun damage and the importance of protecting one’s skin. He really is one weird twelve-year-old. There were no messages from Ethan or Lewis but that was to be expected. They were hopeless about keeping in touch and always had been. They even forgot birthdays. Only Erin sent regular messages. At least she seemed to be genuinely missing me.

  After ‘contact’ with the outside world, it would be time for chores. Kate was really good at playing the good girl, chopping veggies for the lunch, preparing peppers for the evening meal, being little Miss Helpful. We even did a couple of the yoga classes to show extra willing, but we drew the line at hippie dancing or any of the healing schmealing ones.

  ‘Got to play the game,’ said Kate as she swept the dining terrace after breakfast one day.‘If I acted sulky the whole time, Mum would only get mad with me. So, I’m the model daughter part of the time and then, the rest of the time, I can do what I like.’

  And she did too. I think her mum would have had a heart attack if she knew what she got up to. She drank vodka with Robin and Tom, smoked cigarettes until she stank of them, and I know she was considering having sex with Tom because, on the first Friday after we’d arrived on the island, I saw her buying condoms. She saw me looking at her in the shop and did her ‘raised eyebrow’ look. I knew what she meant. I was becoming fluent in eyebrow talk. She meant, ‘You tell Mum and you’re dead.’

  They always offered me whatever they were having, but I usually said no because alcohol gave me a rash and a headache. Sometimes I felt like the immature, boring straight cousin that had been dumped on Kate because there was no one else to babysit me, but my only alternative was to hang out on my own up at the centre where most of the guests were middle-aged and I didn’t want to do that. Sometimes, I had a drink just to show that I wasn’t a total killjoy, but I didn’t really enjoy it like they seemed to.

  After breakfast on the first Saturday, Kate went to wash her hair, so I went to check out the art rooms and found Joe was in there working on something.

  He looked up when I walked in. ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Haven’t seen you around this week.’

  ‘You neither.’

  ‘Been working. Bar in town.’

  ‘Oh right.’ So that’s where he’s been, I thought.

  ‘Yeah. Need to earn some dosh and it’s something to do, you know.’

  ‘Yeah. What you doing?’ I asked, then I cursed myself. It was obvious what he was doing. ‘I mean, clearly you’re working, drawing, er, doing art. Sorry. I seem to be having an idiot attack. It’s the sun. Makes me loopy. Oh shut up, India.’

  Joe laughed and his eyes crinkled in a really lovely way that made him look even more attractive. ‘Yes, the sun makes me loopy too. And yes, I am doing some art.’

  ‘Can I look?’ I asked.

  ‘Er . . .’ Joe hesitated. ‘I guess. It’s not finished yet.’

  ‘I won’t if you don’t want. I hate people looking at my work before it’s ready.’

  ‘You paint or draw?’

  I nodded. ‘Both. Not very good . . .’

  ‘Maybe I could see one day. You know, back in London?’

  Yes! I thought and inwardly punched the air. Result!

  ‘Are you doing some classes here?’ he asked.

  ‘I might,’ I said. And then I spotted an amazing charcoal drawing on the desk to his right. It was of Lottie. ‘Hey, did you do that?’

  Joe glanced over at the drawing. ‘That? Oh yeah. It’s my mum.’

  ‘I can see that,’ I said and walked over to take a closer look. ‘It’s totally brilliant.’

  For a second, Joe blushed slightly. ‘Thanks. I’m trying to brush up my portraiture, you know for my portfolio. I don’t usually do people, but it’s good to have a variety of work for college interviews.’

  ‘Well, you’ve really got an eye for it. You’ve caught your mum exactly. She looks . . . alive, like she has weight. You know how some drawings of people look like they’re floating? Least, mine do – although I like doing people best. I find it hard to make people look like they have flesh, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘I do,’ said Joe, and he looked straight at me like he was sizing me up for a drawing. I felt myself blush because, when our eyes met, I got the lovely warm honey feeling in my stomach again like I’d felt on the first day I’d seen him. I glanced away.

  ‘Umf, got to go now. Kate’s washing her hair.’

  ‘Kate? Oh right. She needs help?’

  ‘No. Course not. In fact I don’t know why I said that,’ I said, thinking, And I don’t know why I told him that!

  And there it was again. The look of amusement on his face. ‘Using that shampoo you bought in London, is she?’

  ‘No. I told you. No head lice. Not in our family.’

  ‘Just teasi
ng, India Jane,’ he said.‘Don’t look so serious.’

  ‘I . . . I . . . Me? Serious? Me. No . . . I’m a laugh a minute . . .’ Leave now, said a voice in my head. You’re going to start talking drivel.‘OK. Super. Later.’

  Super? I thought. Who the hell says super!!

  ‘Later,’ he said with a grin. ‘Take it easy.’

  ‘Yeah, later,’ I said and cursed myself again. Idiot, saying ‘later’ twice. He must think that I’m simple, And just when I’d managed to have a half decent conversation, I thought, heading for the door. Still, we have something in common. Art. I shall think up some wildly interesting things to say about it and impress his socks off.

  I spent the rest of the day down on the beach with Kate, Robin and Tom, thinking about what gems I could casually drop into the conversation the next time I saw Joe, but he wasn’t around by the time we got back in the evening.

  I stuck my head into the art room the next day after breakfast in the hope that he’d be there again but he wasn’t. As Kate and I were going down to the town, I persuaded her to cruise by the bar where he worked, but he wasn’t there either.

  ‘Joe Donahue?’ said a pretty dark-haired waitress behind the bar when Kate asked where he was. ‘He did the early shift. You just missed him. Who shall I say stopped by?’