Desperately Seeking Summer

by Mandy Baggot

  They were creeping nearer, the boat finding it difficult to navigate the almost mountainous waves, but managing, somehow, under his guidance.

  ‘Can you see Dinis?’ Abby called. ‘Can you see your father?’

  He swallowed, eyes tracking the vessel for any sign of someone on board. There was no one at the helm, it was no longer being driven, it was just drifting, rolling up and down under the sea’s power. And then … was that something? Was there someone? An outline? A figure, sat low? Or was it just debris? Lifejackets? Things that somehow hadn’t been blown out of the ship already.

  There was movement, a hand, appearing on the side of the boat. An arm and then, a body, a head …

  ‘I see him!’ Theo called to Abby. ‘He is on the boat!’

  ‘Hurry!’

  Theo’s hand went to push the throttle on to engage the power of the engine, but it still was not the way to handle it. He had to be so careful. This was a matter of life or death.

  ‘Theo, the storm … it’s getting worse,’ Abby shouted above the howling of the gale.

  The rain was pelting down so hard the drops were hurting Abby’s face. Her dress was soaked through and every exposed inch of skin was burning from the dual assault of furious ocean spray and driving deluge. Her fingers were numb from holding onto the rail at the side of the boat. They were being banged and thumped with each forward motion, the sea seeming to spit them along before throwing them down on its surface like a heavy aeroplane landing.

  But what happened next chilled Abby to the bone. One enormous wave hit the little boat ahead of them and it turned over like it was a child’s bathtub toy. For a second she couldn’t believe it had happened when they were so close, but then, very quickly she knew exactly what she had to do. Letting go of the rail, she grabbed at the cupboard that held the life jackets, ripped two from the store and put one over her head. Then she called to Theo.

  ‘I’ll bring him to the boat.’ She didn’t wait to listen to any reply, because she knew what it would be. Don’t go! Come back! Let me! But they needed the Pappas boat in one piece. She couldn’t captain, but she could swim. Taking a deep breath, Abby jumped into the tumultuous water.

  Sixty-five

  Theo felt like his heart had stopped beating. He had just seen his father’s boat be tossed up in the air like it was a feather and now, Abby had jumped off into the water – and he couldn’t see her. Anywhere. He didn’t know what to do. Did he stay with the boat in the hope that she surfaced, that they both somehow surfaced? Or did he jump too? Try and find them? He was torn between acting with all his experience and thinking logically, or thinking with his heart.

  ‘Abby!’ he screamed into the dark turbulent air. ‘Abby!’

  Seconds felt like hours and his eyes were burning from the salt spray and the violent rain. Looking into the black ocean was like searching for two needles in a haystack. It was impossible and he felt sick. That this was happening again. That he was going to be unable to prevent another tragedy.

  ‘Theo!’

  Had he heard Abby? Was that really her voice calling on the wind? Or was it a trick of the storm, playing games with his mind? But then a flash of yellow bobbed up near the stricken vessel, now only a couple of metres ahead. It was her! It was Abby. And she was holding onto the second life jacket, his father clinging to the other side of it.

  Abby had thought she’d been cold to the bone before. Once when it had snowed in Romsey for three whole days and The Travellers’ Rest boiler had broken down, another time when it had ice-rained at the New Forest show and she’d had to take shelter with a man who whittled walking sticks. But now, being literally sucked into a savage whirlpool where the breath was taken from her and water inhaled with each passing moment, she really really knew what cold to the bone was. Now she just hoped, having by fluke or by God’s grace, found Dinis, that she could hold him and herself above water until Theo could make it to them.

  She drew in a breath before the water covered her face again and tried to think of hot, warming things. A piping sausage roll, pastry moist and flaky, meat well-seasoned. The sand beneath her bare feet and the Corfiot sun on her back. Theo’s body pressed against hers, his mouth caressing—

  ‘Give me your hand!’

  It was Theo’s voice. Just when she thought she might not have enough energy to keep awake, she forced her eyes open, her hand still gripping the spare life-jacket and shook her head. ‘Take your dad first,’ she said. ‘I think he’s hurt.’

  ‘Abby! Give me your fucking hand!’

  She hadn’t heard him swear like that before. And he was looking every inch moody and very Greek, leaning out of his boat over the sea. Another wave washed over her and she tried not to breathe in the salt water.

  ‘Abby!’ he called again.

  ‘Get your dad!’ she roared back. And then her fingers gave up. She just couldn’t hold onto the life jacket any longer.

  Sixty-six

  ‘I want you to know that you are the craziest, most stupid, mad, insane person I have ever met.’

  Abby’s throat felt like it had been scrubbed with rock salt by someone taking no care and using an extra wide brush. She was exhausted, but she could hear Theo’s voice, his beautiful, if annoyed, voice shouting at her over the howling storm. She was being carried through water from what her blurry eyes and other senses were telling her. She tried to move but his arms held her firm.

  ‘No! You do not move! You do as you are told for once! You keep still and you keep your eyes open and you listen to me shouting at you!’

  ‘You sound … like Spyridoula,’ Abby breathed.

  ‘You are OK!’ Theo sounded a little surprised by this. She was OK, as far as she could tell, numb with cold and not really being able to feel her body parts. But at least they didn’t hurt … but where was Dinis? Did she save Dinis?

  ‘Where’s your dad?’ she gasped, again trying to move. Next a bout of coughing ensued and salt water crept its way up her throat. She wanted to spit but not really in front of Theo.

  ‘Spit it out!’ Theo ordered.

  OK then. She turned her head, half-spitting, half-vomiting then clearing her throat before saying again, ‘Theo, your dad … Dinis.’

  ‘He is fine,’ Theo said. ‘Spyridoula and Mrs Karakis have him. They will call the doctor if they need to, or make potions from the trees.’

  The ground felt different. Were they out of the sea at last?

  ‘Wanging hell! Abs! Is she all right? Has she hit her head? Has she swallowed a load of water? Because I saw this programme about secondary drowning!’

  Melody’s voice was like music to Abby’s ears. There had been a moment when she thought she might not hear anything but the tinnitus of the sea ever again.

  ‘She needs to be warm,’ Theo stated. ‘I will take her inside.’

  ‘How could you let her get on the boat with you? Are you out of your mind?! This is my sister! My only sister! I could kill you!’

  Abby’s heart surged with love for her sibling but she quickly answered, ‘It wasn’t Theo’s fault.’ She coughed. ‘I made him.’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry, Abby, but he’s near-on six foot and well built and you’re … not. He should have forced you to stay put! Stay safe! Oh, I could wanging kill you!’

  Abby suddenly got a mouthful of her sister’s wet, candy-floss hair and it felt like one of the nicest experiences she had ever had. Melody rubbed their faces together like she had when they were children then retreated and looked to Theo.

  ‘Bring her up to our room. She can have a shower and get some dry clothes on.’

  ‘Abby! Abby!’ It was Jackie. Her drawing of breath sounding like a puffing and panting London Marathon runner.

  ‘Mum, she’s all right. She’s talking and she’s being obstinate and she says it isn’t his fault but I’m not so sure. Anyone who goes out on a boat in this sea has to be a little bit mental.’

  ‘Oh my, Abby, you’ve never been that great at swimming. What possessed you
to go into the water?’ Jackie was holding her hands now, as Theo, still powering up the beach, headed towards the sanctuary of the hotel.

  ‘I’m very good at problem-solving though and … finding things … then I just had to hold on,’ Abby breathed.

  ‘Let’s get you out of this storm before you freeze,’ Jackie said. ‘Can’t you move any faster, Theo?’

  ‘What plants are good for someone who has been knocked unconscious?’ Spyridoula asked Mrs Karakis.

  ‘We need tea with St John’s Wort and cayenne pepper and oats and, I think, Chinese skullcap.’

  ‘What is Chinese skullcap?’ Spyridoula asked. She was on her knees, beside her brother, wiping Dinis’s forehead with a towel as he lay across one of the bar area sofas. His soaking wet form was dripping water on the floor despite the towels and blankets that were being used to raise his temperature and dry him off.

  ‘It sounds like a hat I do not want to wear,’ Dinis moaned, coughing and trying to sit up.

  ‘Stay still!’ Spyridoula ordered. ‘I am so angry with you. What do you think of coming here in these conditions?!’

  ‘Turmeric,’ Mrs Karakis concluded. ‘I will see if they have turmeric to make a tea. It is anti-inflammatory and helps with concussion.’ She headed off towards the bar area and the staff, bypassing Theo who was biting his nails, observing his dad but keeping a little distance. The truth was he didn’t know what to do with himself. He felt exhausted but also so full of adrenalin he was unable to be still.

  ‘I have not hit my head,’ Dinis protested as his sister put another cushion behind him. ‘And that is not comfortable.’

  ‘Good, you are trying to fight me,’ Spyridoula stated. ‘You will not win, of course, but this means you are not going to die today.’

  ‘Where is Theo?’ Dinis asked, eyes suddenly widening as if panicked. ‘Is he OK?’

  ‘He is OK,’ Spyridoula replied.

  ‘Where is he?’ Dinis asked again. ‘And the girl—’

  ‘I am here,’ Theo answered, shifting on his feet, wondering whether to step forwards or not.

  ‘I think I will see if they have more towels and help with the turmeric tea. She does not make good tea at the best of times.’ Spyridoula got up, wiping her hands with the towel before discarding it on a chair and leaving the room.

  Theo looked at his father. Dinis seemed older than the last time he had seen him, the glimpses around the villa as he attempted to avoid him. Why had he done that? Why hadn’t he just talked, minus the anger and regrets? If what Spyridoula had told him earlier was true then everything had changed.

  ‘Were you trying to get back to Corfu on that boat, in that sea?’ Dinis questioned, looking straight at him.

  Theo shook his head. ‘No.’ He stood tall, put his hands into the pockets of his dripping wet shorts. He had refused all offers of towels and fuss, wanting to make sure his father and Abby were taken care of. His hair was down, a shaggy, bedraggled mess, a little like the rest of him. ‘I decided we had to stay here the night. The reports were too bad to risk going back.’

  ‘So why were you out in the bay?’ Dinis asked, looking a little bewildered.

  ‘Why was I out in the bay?! Why do you think I was out in the bay? Leon called me. He told me you were coming here. The weather was … like it was … I knew you would be in trouble.’ He took a breath. ‘I was coming to look for you!’

  ‘Knew I would be in trouble?’ Dinis shook his head. ‘You have no faith in my experience.’

  ‘Still you want to fight?’ Theo said. ‘Still you want to be the big Greek man? Well, here is the truth, whether you agree with it or not. That tourist boat you tried to sail in a storm force eleven is not fit to travel from San Stefanos to Barbati in fair weather. What you did went against everything you as a sailor should know. You put yourself in danger. You put me in danger. And you put someone I care very much about in danger too.’

  For a moment Dinis didn’t say anything and the only sound was the wind still rattling the battened-down shutters. Theo swallowed, then moved closer to his father, taking a seat in the chair next to the sofa he was laying on.

  ‘Spyridoula told me you have been to see Limoni.’

  Dinis dropped his eyes. ‘Spyridoula says too many things. She was like this even as a child. Never knowing when to say nothing.’

  ‘Why did you not tell me?’ Theo asked. ‘That you gave her family money? That you were making sure she had the best rehabilitation?’

  ‘I was going to tell you,’ Dinis answered. ‘It was one of the reasons I came to Corfu but …’ He stopped talking.

  ‘But what?’

  ‘I wanted to know that you were OK before I told you.’

  ‘That I was OK?’

  ‘I have been worried about you, Theo. I told you that.’

  ‘You told me you did not think I would sail a boat again,’ Theo retorted. ‘And that seemed to be the most important thing to you.’

  ‘It was not the most important thing. The most important thing is that I do not lose you the way I lost your mother. Quickly. Suddenly. When I was too wrapped up in work.’

  Theo put his hands together, suddenly feeling the cold. His whole body began to react to his body temperature and the frightening ordeal they had just been through.

  ‘As a father I have been …’ Dinis stopped again, as if fighting to find the most appropriate word. ‘Challenging, and all the other things you probably thought of me. You and your brother and sister have had so little of me and so little of your mother because she passed. It must have been like being orphans. And I regret this. I truly regret this. Your mother, she would be abseiling down from a cloud if she could see the mess I have created.’

  ‘Dad …’ Theo started.

  ‘There is no excuse. I lost sight of what mattered. I buried my own grief and threw everything into the company and I ignored being a father when you three needed me most. But, Theo, you are the one I let down the most.’ His voice thickened. ‘I tried to make you like me … but the bad version of me, the ruthless entrepreneur, the money-orientated businessman … and when the accident happened I felt like it had to be controlled or the only thing I thought I had – the business – would be taken away from me too.’

  ‘You should have told us how you were feeling,’ Theo interrupted softly.

  ‘Theo, I am Greek, just like you are Greek. The only feelings we let out are joy and anger in equal measure. We do not tell people, not even family, if we cannot cope.’ He sighed, his breathing still a little crackly. ‘But we should. Because then you might have understood why I did not want to pay the family of Limoni at first, why I took things out on you, why I have been the worst father …’

  ‘Not the worst father.’ Theo reached across the space, the seat moving with him, sliding closer to the sofa, bringing him nearer to Dinis. He took hold of his father’s cold, water-wrinkled hand.

  ‘You are too forgiving,’ Dinis had tears in his voice as well as in his eyes. ‘I do not deserve it.’

  ‘We all make mistakes,’ Theo continued. ‘I should not have run away.’

  ‘You did nothing wrong, Theo,’ Dinis told him firmly. ‘Not on the boat on that day. Not anything since … apart from tonight.’ He squeezed Theo’s hand. ‘You should never put yourself in danger for me.’

  ‘You are my father,’ Theo said, emotion flooding his senses. ‘I would do the very same again.’

  ‘But the girl from the estate agency – you took her with you.’

  Theo sighed. ‘I think she would have murdered me and driven the boat herself if I had stopped her from coming on board.’

  ‘She jumped into that water to save me.’ Dinis shook his head. ‘She is as crazy as you.’

  ‘Yes,’ Theo answered. ‘Yes, she is.’

  Sixty-seven

  The Beach House, Porto

  The shack on the beach was just a shell but it had all the essentials. It wasn’t centrally heated, but in the main room there was a small electric heater, one
now made-up double bed, a rocking chair with a blanket and an electric kettle. A window ran the length of one wood-panelled wall, usually displaying the beautiful, star-filled beach and sea scene, but tonight showing the raw power of the ocean and the storm in its full force. And Theo could now vouch for the shower. He had stood in it for over twenty minutes until it turned cold, trying to get some warmth into every extremity and mull over everything that had happened. Now, a towel wrapped around his waist he stood, waiting for the kettle to boil to make black tea with sugar – good for shock, according Mrs Karakis.

  Suddenly there was a knock at the door. His heart beat quickly in his chest and he stepped towards it, wondering what else could possibly happen to them on this island. He unlatched the door and the wind almost took it from him as he opened it. Standing there was Abby, wearing a hotel dressing gown, her hair plastered against her face, looking just as soaking as she had been when he’d pulled her up out of the sea.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Theo dragged her inside and shut the wild weather out, making sure the door was firmly fastened.

  ‘It’s warm in here,’ Abby said, moving across the room towards where the little heater was working hard. He watched her put her fingers to it, splaying them out and trying to soak up every little modicum.

  ‘Abby,’ Theo said. ‘You should be inside.’

  ‘I am now,’ she answered.

  ‘The real inside,’ he countered. ‘The hotel. Where I know there are powerful heating units and thicker blankets and more to drink than black tea and sugar.’

  ‘You’re making black tea and sugar?’ Abby asked, heading for the rocking chair. ‘Yum. Do you have enough for two? Or can we share?’

  He shook his head. ‘There is something wrong with you. You have been hit on the head by a rock in the sea, or the boat, or something. Why will you not do the right thing?’

  Abby smiled. ‘I’ve spent many years doing the right thing. I’ve even written lists about doing the right thing. Did you know, though, that in one of the popular lists of things you need to make you happy is “an adventure”. Not tame little trips to see Benedict Cumberbatch performing a hammy script … “an adventure”, Theo.’