Drakon

by Gisby, Annette

  “How does it fell to be Mrs. Kent?”

  “Strange. I don't feel married.”

  “Well, we are. This piece of paper proves it,” he tapped the pocket in his jacket.

  “Now we'd better hurry or we'll miss the flight.”

  “What flight? Where are we going?”

  “Where do people normally go when they've just got married?”

  “Honeymoon? We're going on our honeymoon?” Andrea couldn't believe it. This was all some crazy dream. She'd just married her best friend and now they were going on honeymoon?

  “Lead on, Jonathan I'm right behind you.”

  Andrea had never seen so many people in the one place before. The airport was packed. Of course Jonathan would have to arrange it in the middle of the summer holidays when everyone and his dog were off to foreign climes. She must have been invisible, if the amount of people who bumped into her was anything to go by. She clung to Jonathan's arm, not willing to let him out of her sight.

  She should have been surprised that Jonathan had bought a whole new wardrobe for her and their two suitcases were now on a trolley waiting to be checked in. As the couple in front of them handed over their passports, Andrea gasped.

  “I don't have a passport!” she whispered urgently in his ear. Jonathan turned around and smiled at her.

  “It's been taken care of,” he said and waved the two books at her. But she'd never even applied for a passport. How did he do it?

  “Next please,” said the stewardess whose smile seemed in danger of cracking. She was dressed in a navy blue suit with red diamonds on it and she looked utterly fed up. Jonathan handed over the tickets and passports.

  “Just the two cases is it?” she asked in a bored voice. Andrea wondered how many times a day she had to say the same thing over and over again.

  “Would you like a window seat, sir?” she asked.

  “Yes please, my wife's never been abroad before.” The stewardess looked up at Andrea and smiled. A real smile this time.

  “Congratulations. I hope you enjoy your honeymoon,” she winked at Andrea making her blush.

  “Row 8, seats A and B,” said the stewardess. “The best in the house.”

  “Thank you,” said Andrea and Jonathan together.

  “Would you like something to eat before we board? We've got about an hour,” said Jonathan looking at his watch.

  “No thanks, I'm too nervous to eat. It's not every day you get married.” If the truth was told it wasn't that which worried Andrea. It was what people were going to say when they got back. She had never done anything remotely crazy in her life. What would her mother say?

  She was nervous about the flight too. Jonathan was right in that. She'd never been on a plane journey before. Jonathan glanced at one of the many monitors above their heads and tugged her along with him.

  “Our plane's ready to board.” Andrea broke out in a cold sweat. She couldn't go up in the plane. Think of those heights. And what if it crashed? There was nothing between them and the ground.

  “I can't Jonathan, I'm terrified of heights. I can't go,” she burst into tears. Jonathan put his arms around her. “Ssh. It's all right. We don't have to go. I'm not going to force you to get on a plane if you don't want to.”

  “But I'm being silly. I know the statistics; I just can't go up there.”

  “No you're not. Lots of people are scared of flying. We can go somewhere else.” Andrea rubbed her eyes. What was wrong with her? She was normally such a good traveller. Planes had never worried her before. Just thinking of the money Jonathan probably spent made her want to cry again.

  “It's the safest method of transport,” said an elderly lady who appeared beside them. “You're more likely to die in a car crash than in a plane. It's just that if a plane does go down more people die at once. I used to be frightened too, until my son emigrated to Australia. I went over to visit my first grandchild. It was the best thing I ever did.”

  “But weren't you scared?” asked Andrea.

  “Of course I was, but if you want something enough, you just have to get over the fear. Do you know some people are so afraid of dying that they're scared to live? That's sad, isn't it? I'm ninety. I could die in a plane crash or I could die in my sleep. But I haven't stopped sleeping and I'm not going to stop flying either.” She walked off, her back ramrod straight and hardly a totter. It was hard to believe she was ninety. Andrea looked at Jonathan. She wanted to make him happy. They were both dying. What was there to lose?

  “I've made up my mind, I want to live. Let's go on that plane.” It wasn't as bad as she thought it was going to be. The worst part was as they took off. She grabbed the armrest unaware that Jonathan's hand was already there. She clung to it like a drowning man might cling to a lifebelt. The meal was delicious and Andrea was surprised to find how hungry she was. When the duty free trolley came round Jonathan bought her a teddy bear with a little leather flying jacket and aviator goggles. She cuddled it the rest of the way and wished it were Jonathan she was cuddling. As they began their descent, Andrea looked out the window. Everything was so small, so insignificant from up there.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Majorca,” said the captain. Andrea hadn't really thought of Majorca as a honeymoon destination before, but what did it matter as long she was with Jonathan? That was the important bit.

  After they had retrieved their luggage they went through passport control and into the foyer. Jonathan was looking for the yellow and blue uniform of their rep. He spotted one waving and walked over.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Kent? Ah, yes, here we are. Your taxi's outside. Have a nice time! I wish it was me.” The girl turned to the next couple.

  “Why have we got a taxi?” asked Andrea. She heard everyone else being directed to a coach.

  “Are we going to a different hotel than everybody else?”

  “You could say that,” smiled Jonathan as he carried the suitcases outside. The first thing Andrea noticed was the heat. It was like a wall of humidity. She was glad she still had on the cream dress. Anything darker and she would have boiled. There was a man with a black suit and chauffeur's cap standing beside a white limousine and Andrea wondered if there was a film star somewhere in the airport. He walked over to them and doffed his cap.

  “Senor y Senora Kent? Bienvenido a Majorca! Me llama Pedro. Como esta?”

  “Muy bien, gracias,” said Jonathan in perfect Spanish. Pedro held the door open for them and they got in. Andrea still couldn't quite believe it. The limousine wasn't for a film star; it was for them.

  “Was it a nice surprise?” asked Jonathan. He absently patted her hand as though she were a child. Andrea wondered if he knew he was doing it.

  “It's lovely,” said Andrea. The windows were tinted so they could see out but no one could see in.

  “I feel like a movie star!” she laughed.

  “But much prettier,” he said and she was rewarded with one of his rare smiles.

  “Where are we going?” she asked as the car slowly made its way to the harbour. Yachts bobbed up and down on the water like toys. They turned a corner and there she saw it. The whiteness dazzled her eyes despite the tinted windows.

  “A cruise? We're going on a cruise?” she sat up and looked out the window, holding this moment in her memory as long as she could.

  “We are,” said Jonathan.

  “What if I get seasick?”

  “You'll be too excited to get sick. And anyway, how can a member of the Smith clan get seasick? I thought you were born on the ocean?” Andrea didn't want to contradict him, but a lot of the time it was excitement, which made her sick. She just hoped it wouldn't be true in this case. Pedro helped them with the cases to board the ship, even though a porter was ready to do it. Andrea caught the name as they boarded. The Island Paradise.

  Oh, it was going to be wonderful! And how did Jonathan know that she had always wanted to go on a cruise? She would never have plucked up the courage to go on her own. There was a man in uni
form at the top of the gangplank ready to greet them.

  “Hello, I'm the maitre d'. Would you like an early or late sitting for dinner? Early is seven pm. Late nine pm”

  “Early, if that's all right with you, Andrea?”

  “Yes, that sounds fine,” she replied a little awed by the splendour she could see on the ship. Glass and brass gleamed as if it had just been polished ready for their arrival.

  “Ah, here's the purser now,” said the maitre d' and hurried to greet the next passengers. The purser took their passports and embarkation form and called to a steward.

  “This is Alex; he will be your steward for the whole cruise. Any problems and you speak to him first. He'll look after you. Alex show Mr. and Mrs. Kent to their cabin and let them get settled in. I hope you enjoy your cruise.”

  “Thank you,” said Jonathan and Andrea in unison. They followed Alex while a porter followed behind with their luggage. The cabin was small but it was decorated well. There was a small porthole too. Andrea was glad of that. As long as she could get some fresh air, she might not feel sick. Alex left and they started to unpack. Andrea could hardly believe that Jonathan knew her size and everything was to her taste. Did he go through her wardrobe before this shopping spree? Except the shorts. She'd never worn shorts in her life, not even as a child.

  “Will everyone be wearing shorts?” she asked.

  “Yes, except for dinner. Everyone dresses up. But don't worry. I've bought you plenty of dresses.” Jonathan went to the bathroom and Andrea took the opportunity while he was gone to change into a pair of navy shorts and a white baggy t-shirt. Her legs looked like two thin milk bottles. They'd never seen the sun. It was a good job that Jonathan remembered the sun cream as well. She never tanned. She burned, except for her face, which came out in a mass of freckles at the first hint of sunlight.

  Jonathan came out of the bathroom looking rather pale and worn. “I think I'll have a lie down for a while. Why don't you go and explore the ship?”

  “I don't want to leave you on your own if you're not feeling well.”

  “I'll be fine. I just need a rest, and I'd rest better on my own.”

  “Oh,” said Andrea. Was this their first of many disagreements? Her husband of a few hours would rest better if she weren't there. Well, she'd just have to go and do something else, wouldn't she?

  “There's a library, I think,” said Jonathan and collapsed on the bed with his shoes on. Andrea left him to it. She wasn't going to stay where she wasn't wanted. The ship had just started to sail and she grabbed one of the handrails along the corridor for support. Hopefully she would get her sea legs eventually. It was such a long time since she'd sailed. It always reminded her of her father.

  Sometimes she missed him so much that she didn't want any reminders.

  She went up on deck to watch as people waved off their friends and families. Andrea scanned the crowd for something to do. Had she really expected someone to wave them off when they didn't even know where they were? No one even knew they were married.

  People were throwing streamers at the ship and Andrea turned away, her eyes wet for no reason that she could fathom.

  She strolled along the deck feeling the wind in her hair and the waves beneath her feet. She stood looking over the rail at the Mediterranean, sparkling blue green and gold in the sunlight. There was an open-air cafe next to the swimming pool. Andrea sat down on one of the plastic chairs and ordered an orange juice. The waiter brought her a glass with a long straw and a little parasol in the top. Andrea thanked him and wished Jonathan would tell her what was wrong.

  They were married now. Why did he still insist on keeping secrets? If he was ill again she wanted to know. She didn't want him to suffer in silence. Right, Andrea. Like you always tell him everything about you?

  “Mind if I join you?” asked a voice. Andrea looked up, shading her eyes from the sun with her hand. A woman stood there. She was dressed all in white. White shorts, white top and a white jumper thrown casually over her shoulders and the arms tied loosely at her chest. Her long blonde hair was held back by a pair of expensive looking sunglasses. For one horrible moment Andrea thought it was Suzanne, Jonathan's most recent ex. She looked so like her.

  “If you like,” said Andrea although she was in no mood for company. She had never learned the art of saying no gracefully, so she hardly ever said it at all.

  “I'm Lucy,” said the woman extending a finely manicured hand. The nails were painted a very light pink, hardly noticeable. She wore no rings, wedding or otherwise.

  “I do hate travelling alone, don't you?” asked Lucy.

  “I'm with my husband,” said Andrea and then added in a whisper, “We're on our honeymoon.”

  “Oh? Where is he then?” asked Lucy with a grin.

  “He's having a lie down.”

  “You've worn him out already!” laughed Lucy.

  Andrea got up from her chair, the blush reaching from her toes right up to her hair.

  “Excuse me. I don't know you and I don't think I'd be friends with anyone who teases someone they hardly know.”

  “But we can be friends,” said Lucy and Andrea watched in fascinated horror as Lucy moved her hair aside and showed Andrea the scar on her neck. She concentrated on the chair digging into her back and not on the thought of Lucy's neck. And the scar almost identical to the one on her own neck

  “See, we have something in common,” said Lucy.

  “We don't.”

  “Why deny it? We both know it's true. It was the same man who attacked us.”

  It didn't help that Lucy looked remarkably like Suzanne. Andrea couldn't help comparing the two of them, even though she knew it was wrong. She hated Suzanne, how could she be friends with someone who constantly reminded her of how Jonathan had once loved someone else?

  “Oh, please!” gasped Lucy. “I'm nothing like Suzanne.”

  “You can read minds too?” asked Andrea, wondering why this conversation didn't feel as strange as it should.

  “Of course. Can't you?” Lucy said it as though it was as natural as eating or breathing. Maybe it was natural to her, but Andrea still found it difficult to feel at ease with it. Lucy looked beyond Andrea at someone walking towards them. Andrea turned around and felt her heart lurch. It was Jonathan. He was wearing a pair of blue shorts and a navy tee shirt. Andrea thought he looked fantastic, but then she always thought that. She couldn't stop looking at his legs. Jonathan was smiling and her heart lifted. It sank again when she realized the smile wasn't for her, but for Lucy.

  Lucy jumped up from the chair and hugged him. Andrea felt her chest constrict, as though an invisible hand was squeezing her heart. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't.

  “Lucy! What on earth are you doing here?” asked Jonathan

  “Following you, of course. Someone has to keep an eye on you.”

  “Oh, Andrea. Where are my manners, this is my cousin, Lucy. Lucy, this is Andrea, my wife.” Jonathan smiled at her, a smile that made her insides turn to jelly and made her heart beat even faster. Lucy was his cousin. And to think that she thought - well, never mind what she thought. Yes, she and Lucy could be friends, would be friends.

  “I wish I'd been at the wedding,” sighed Lucy.

  “I know, but it couldn't be helped. It was a bit rushed.”

  “Yes, Mum told me. But at least you got Andrea out of there. That's the main thing.” Lucy glanced at her watch. “I'm meeting someone for lunch. I'll leave you two love-birds on your own.”

  With that, Lucy left them, wobbling a bit as she walked along the deck.

  Andrea hoped Jonathan hadn't seen her blush. If only Lucy knew! They were the least like love-birds It was difficult to tell how Jonathan felt about her. He'd never said anything other than to indicate that he liked her and wanted to protect her.

  There was the time he'd tried to kiss her, before the students had so rudely interrupted, but he'd said that was a momentary lapse and he promised it wouldn't happen again.

&n
bsp; How was she to tell him that she wished it would? She just hadn't been ready before. She was ready now, but how did you go about seducing your own husband?

  “Would you like to go on the trip to Pompeii tomorrow?” He asked, bringing her out of her reverie.

  “Yes, I'd love to,” she replied. They were acting like polite strangers, but how could that be when they knew so much about each other? She was sure that Jonathan knew more than he was saying about why they had to run away. Maybe he didn't trust her enough to tell her the truth or maybe the truth was so awful that he couldn't bear to tell her. Somehow, she preferred the second version. It showed that he cared about her feelings.

  Even if it wasn't love, it was something.

  Chapter Three

  Andrea couldn't sleep. Perhaps it was the large dinner or the midnight chocolate buffet. She'd never eaten so much in all her life and she knew she would regret it. Her stomach was churning like a manic washing machine. Then again that might be caused by the constant rocking of the boat. There might be another reason for her insomnia. At present, it was lying on the floor, snoring softly.

  She hadn't really thought of him as a snorer. He'd insisted on sleeping on the floor. Didn't he trust himself if he slept in the same bed? She wanted him beside her, to put his arms around her and tell her everything was going to be all right, even if it wasn't. The sunlight streaming in through the porthole woke her. Had she fallen asleep after all? Someone was whistling in the broom cupboard that served as a shower room. The voice was deeper than Jonathan's, more gravely. The bathroom door opened and she pulled the bedclothes up to her chin, as if they were going to protect her. A figure stood in the doorway, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. Andrea didn't know where to look.

  “What's the matter? Haven't you seen a man before?” The figure was Jonathan, yet not Jonathan. It was difficult to explain. Andrea turned away and wondered if she screamed would anybody come. He came and stood by the side of the bed, facing her.