‘Snappy like a crocodile sandwich,’ she joked limply, at which he laughingly shook his head.
‘If you say so.’
They had left Hvar behind now and the sky was a tepid forget-me-not blue. The wind that had been the merest whisper that morning gathered pace the further out to sea they sped, and Kate was glad that for once she had left her straw hat behind.
‘Do you know all these people?’ she asked, as the third boat they passed had its horn tooted by a friendly operator.
‘No,’ he said. ‘They’re honking in appreciation of the deckchair. Ever since you nailed it up there, I’ve been forced to fend off attention all over the island – a girl even wanted to take a photo of me the other day, as if I was a bloody celebrity or something.’
‘Oops,’ said Kate, grimacing as she raised her eyes to the cabin roof. ‘I did wonder about that flapping sound.’
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Quite loud, isn’t it?’
‘It sounds like you’re being applauded by a huge crowd of people,’ she declared. ‘The faster we go, the louder they clap.’
‘In that case,’ said Alex, and he opened the throttle.
With the rumbling drone of the engine, the flapping canvas of the deckchair and the thudding slap of the waves as they crashed against the boat, it was too noisy to continue talking. Kate settled into her seat, her gaze going from the view to Alex’s broad shoulders beneath the red hoodie. With his dreadlocks tucked away for once, he looked almost handsome – not her type, exactly, but definitely attractive. She recalled Robyn’s Dothraki comment and wondered if her friend’s initial interest would gain pace when she met the man himself. That was if Robyn got to meet him. Kate could never be sure where Alex was going to be from one day to the next, and neither, it seemed, did he. If she hadn’t happened to bump into him up by the fortress, she may not have seen him again for ages and that would have been a shame. Time spent with Alex was good time. Kate felt comfortable around him for reasons she could not quite explain, and she trusted him, too, in spite of his refusal to answer half the questions she fired at him. She still had no idea where he was from, what his family situation was or why he had left the UK in the first place – but it bothered her far less than a lot of things did. In fact, when she thought about it, really thought about it, Kate realised that she was closer to being relaxed here in Croatia than she ever had been in her life. If she could only fix the James issue – and the fertility issue, whispered a cruel voice – then life would not be too bad at all.
It had been weeks now since her near-panic attack on the roof terrace, since she had given in to what she was feeling and let it consume her, and that version of Kate Nimble felt far away now – a dark outline at the very end of a tunnel.
Alex had just said something to her, but Kate had missed it. She imagined his words being whipped away from them by the wind, torn up and scattered across the water. How strange to think of all those uttered phrases floating about, weightless and unanchored. So much of what people said was instantly forgotten.
‘What did you say?’ she called over the thrum of the engine, and Alex pointed ahead.
‘Land ahoy,’ he said, smiling at her with such warmth that Kate was sure she could feel it.
‘Aye, aye, captain!’ she retorted, hopping off her seat as the boat began to slow.
Alex stared at her; his expression turned so abruptly blank that Kate wondered if something inside his mind had short-circuited. Then, almost the same moment she had registered his change in mood, Alex seemed to reboot, and laughingly tipped the front of his cap.
Was he, like her, pretending to the world that everything was fine when, in reality, something far darker was lurking beneath the surface? Perhaps if she had not become such an expert in glossing over this blackness herself, then Kate would not have seen it. But she had.
And if the Alex smiling at her now was concealing some deeper truth, then who, or what, was he hiding?
Chapter 27
‘I thought you said we were driving?’
Kate gawped in horror at first Alex, and then the moped he had just dismounted. Promising he’d be back to pick her up within ten minutes, he had left her and the overstuffed rucksack waiting in the shade of a pomegranate tree, the fruit from which matched her sunburnt shoulders. Kate had envisaged him driving up in a jeep like Filippo’s, or at the very least, one of the small hire cars she’d seen parked all over Hvar. This rickety-looking contraption was neither.
‘Generally, you do have to drive scooters,’ he said. ‘They don’t have a self-steer function yet, though I would be willing to bet that somebody is working on it.’
‘We can’t go anywhere on that thing,’ she exclaimed. ‘Where will all the stuff from the hotel go? Where will my bag go? Where will I go?’
‘You’re behind me,’ he said. ‘And as for your stuff . . .’ Alex extracted a key from the pocket of his shorts and opened the moped’s cracked leather seat. There was a small storage hatch in the space underneath containing two coiled straps.
‘We can tie it on the back. Unless you feel safe wearing it?’
‘I don’t feel safe about any of this,’ Kate said fretfully. ‘What if I fall off?’
‘You won’t, not if you’re holding on,’ he replied, picking up her backpack as if it weighed nothing and fixing it securely in place. His own bag, which was less than a third the size of hers, fitted neatly in the footwell. Kate rocked from one white Converse to the other as she watched him, chewing distractedly at her nails.
‘Are there no cars available?’ she pleaded, glancing around the port in the hope that one might somehow appear.
Alex straightened up and handed her a helmet. ‘Scooters are cheaper,’ he said. ‘And better for the environment.’
‘And death traps,’ she added, to which he raised both eyebrows.
‘The new owner told me he’s happy to drive any furniture you want back down here in his van,’ he assured her. ‘Come on, don’t look like that – you might even enjoy it. You were fine in the kayak and you don’t even have to steer this thing, only hold on.’
Kate pulled a face.
‘I’ve been driving mopeds for years now and I tell you what, they’re a lot easier to handle than a boat. I got you this far in one piece, didn’t I?’
‘You don’t have the best history with scooters, if I remember rightly,’ Kate pointed out, recalling the scars he’d shown her on his elbow, but she accepted the helmet regardless. Once on, it pinned her ears flat against her head and caused the arms of her glasses to dislodge. Not that she wanted to be able to see the landscape rushing past at an alarming speed. What was exhilarating on the water felt much scarier on dry land. And if you fell into water, you wouldn’t end up with a tarmac tan.
Alex got into position first, holding the bike steady as Kate clambered into place behind him, her feet finding the small metal struts with relative ease. It was the closest physically that she had been to Alex, and as she shuffled forward in an attempt to get more comfortable, she became immediately aware of how warm his body felt through the tattered red hoodie. She would have preferred not to have her thighs pressed quite so snugly against his, but with the bag strapped behind her, there was no room left to wriggle.
‘Ready?’ Alex said, one hand holding the brake and the other easing back the throttle. Kate could feel the vibration of the engine through the seat and tried not to think about how many small moving parts she was relying upon to keep them safe – not to mention how dirty, dusty and oil-stained she would be by the time they reached their destination. Wearing this dress had been a mistake; she should have got straight into her old leggings.
‘Ready as I’ll ever be—’
The last word came out as a high-pitched shriek as the moped surged forward, and Kate shut her eyes as they zoomed off along the main road.
‘Fun, right?’ he shouted, just as Kate sneaked a peek in time to see a flurry of tourists darting out of their way.
‘No,’ she yelle
d back, wrapping her arms more tightly around him as they nipped between cars, motorbikes and a vast, fume-belching coach. One of Alex’s dreadlocks had broken loose from the constraints of his helmet and Kate spluttered as it flew into her open mouth.
They were following the road that ran along the coast, but all Kate could focus on was the blur of the trees, the wasp-like drone of the engine, the flash of grey asphalt speeding beneath the tyres and the banging of her heart inside her chest.
Alex, by comparison, seemed totally at ease, his body slouched as if he was in an armchair.
I must try to relax, Kate thought, releasing some of the rigid tension in her shoulders. It was not so bad; she was coping fine. Alex seemed to know what he was doing, but there was no way he would stay in the seat if she happened to fall. Kate was holding onto to him so tightly now that if she fell, he surely would too – a thought that offered minimal comfort.
The further they drove, the more Kate’s initial fear was replaced by something closer to pleasure. She began to appreciate the feel of the warm air cascading across her bare arms and the comforting bulk of Alex pressed against her.
‘Still OK back there?’ he called.
‘I’m great,’ she replied, pleased to discover that she was. ‘Once you get past the constant fear of a violent and bloody death, it’s not too bad.’
Kate felt his stomach muscles contract beneath her hands as he laughed.
The narrow lane they were zooming along banked sharply uphill, the companionable blue curtain of the sea disappearing from sight as neatly packed houses sprung up on either side. Dust swarmed around them, the pitch of the moped’s throttle reaching a high note of effort as the slope steepened further still. Kate was just wondering if they would make it to the top at all when Alex briskly applied the brakes, skidding them to an untidy standstill beside a set of sandstone steps.
‘Sorry about the emergency stop,’ he said, as Kate lurched sideways off the seat. ‘I thought the hotel was further up. I haven’t been out here in a while – not since the spring.’
‘Just when I was starting to trust this thing as well,’ she replied, giving the bike a stern look as she dismounted. It felt strange to be on solid ground again, her legs trembling in time to the moped’s dawdling engine.
Alex removed his helmet and slipped it over one of the handlebars, so Kate followed suit on the other side, her hand going up automatically to ruffle her flattened hair and rearrange her glasses. The owner had left a set of keys in a coded lockbox beside the front door, and she watched as Alex leapt nimbly up the steps to collect them.
‘The skip is out by the pool,’ he told her, waiting by the now-open doors. ‘Why don’t you see if there’s anything already in there and I’ll get cracking with the clearing?’
Kate made her way into a dark reception area and stared around, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the gloom. The hotel was dated, with heavy wooden furniture and a seventies colour palette of rusts and browns. Alex had already explained that the man who’d bought the place had grand plans to update it and wanted everything painted either white or grey. Remembering this now as she took it all in, Kate wrinkled her nose.
‘Your face is a picture,’ Alex told her, clearly amused.
‘If the new owner opts for sterile colours in here, it’s going to end up looking more like a hospital than a hotel,’ she said, stepping into what appeared to be a lounge and admiring the Artex ceiling. ‘They’d do better with something warmer – and these walls are so high, there’s scope to do some exciting things with the decoration.’
‘Should I call him?’ Alex offered, his ancient Nokia already in his hand. ‘He’s Danish, but his English is not half bad. You could tell him your ideas.’
‘No, no.’ Kate flapped an embarrassed hand. ‘I was just thinking aloud, that’s all. It’s his hotel; he can do whatever he likes. I’m sure he knows better than me anyway.’
‘Are you sure? I’ve only met him once, but he seems quite laid-back. I don’t think you’d offend him, if that’s what you’re worried about.’
‘He’s rich,’ Kate reminded him. ‘He can pay to hire a professional interior designer.’
‘Or he can pay you.’ Alex was leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded and his Croatia baseball cap back in place.
‘But I’m not an interior designer. I’m an amateur at best.’
Alex cocked his head to the side and stared at her.
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’
‘I was just thinking about that conversation we had a while back. You know, about the importance of finding the right fit. Have you not ever wondered if interior design might be yours?’
Kate had wondered that. She’d been wondering it more and more. But it was ridiculous. Anyone could match colours, choose artwork and follow a YouTube tutorial on how to create light fittings from old jelly moulds if they put their minds to it. What she had achieved at the hostel and on Alex’s boat was fluke. Nothing she could turn into a viable career.
‘Who was it that said that again?’ she asked. ‘Your wise old friend Yoda, wasn’t it?’
Alex shifted a fraction. ‘Josh.’
‘That’s right,’ she said lightly. ‘But I think you give him too much credit.’
‘What do you mean?’ Alex’s expression was unreadable.
‘I think,’ she said, ‘that’s it you who’s the wise one.’
Chapter 28
It wasn’t until the light began to fade that Kate realised she had not seen Alex for a while. He’d left her outside by the hotel’s empty pool, surrounded by her piles of collected treasures, telling her he had a quick errand to run. But that had been at least an hour ago.
She’d been listening to a true crime podcast while she examined each of the items she’d salvaged, but now the silence seemed to ring. In the hostel, there was always noise, the footfalls of guests and the music drifting down from the roof terrace, while up here in Škrip, she couldn’t hear any signs of life. Even the crickets had fallen silent, their chorus dimmed, as the sun had been, by the passing of day into night.
Kate picked up her phone, thinking she would call Alex, then realised she didn’t have his number and sent a message to Toby instead, asking him to ping it across. How absurd that she hadn’t asked Alex himself yet; they’d known each other for weeks now. But then again, he wasn’t the sort to engage in text exchanges. He was more of a face-to-face man – when he deigned to show up, that was.
Kate heard what sounded like twigs cracking and stood up abruptly from the rusted sunlounger she’d been perched on. The pool terrace was walled in, but she still felt exposed out here by herself.
Perhaps listening to a true crime podcast hadn’t been the best idea. Grabbing her smaller bag, she hurried towards the double doors at the back of the hotel and went inside. There were no lights on, and it was so dark that Kate had to use the torch function of her phone to search the walls for a switch.
‘That’s better,’ she said aloud, as the room was illuminated once more, and after closing the outer doors, she made her way into the reception area. The ancient desk that had been there that morning was gone, broken down into pieces by her and Alex and stacked in the skip, but her rucksack was where she’d left it, balanced against the wall.
Kate jumped as her phone vibrated with a message. It was Toby.
‘Al’s number to follow. Filippo says, don’t do anything he and I definitely would.’
Kate’s lip curled as she took in the winking-face emoji he’d added at the end. Idiot.
Alex didn’t answer when she called, but before she could type out a text message to him, one arrived. Sorry. Errand took longer than expected. Back soon. A.
So, he had her number then. That must be Toby’s doing.
Kate looked and felt bedraggled in her stained T-shirt and leggings, her once-pristine white Converse streaked with dirt from a day of moving furniture. There were plenty of bathrooms upstairs; surely the new owner wouldn’t object to her
having a quick shower?
Alex hadn’t yet shown her which room she’d be sleeping in, so Kate chose the first she came across, which contained a bedframe but no mattress and a single lamp with a cracked porcelain base. There were no towels in the en suite, of course, but Kate had brought along two of her own, plus a washbag full of products, a first-aid kit – you could never be too sure – and a clingy black dress on the off chance that she ended up somewhere fancy.
Not much chance of that.
Peeling off her clothes, Kate switched on the water and stepped gingerly into the cubicle only to leap out backwards with a yelp. It was cold. Freezing cold.
‘Don’t do this to me,’ she begged, reaching in to fiddle with the lever.
It was no good; there was no hot water.
She had two choices: either she remained in her current sweaty and grimy state or she brave the chilly deluge. Dirt was not an option, though, so really she had no choice.
Gritting her teeth, Kate ducked under the shower and scrubbed herself as hard and as fast as she could, her teeth chattering and her shoulders up to her ears. Unable to face washing her hair, she angled her head out of the way and edged the other parts of herself forwards one at a time, realising as she did so how utterly ridiculous she must look. A few weeks ago, this situation would have upset her; it would have been another in a long line of disasters that always seemed to befall her and only her. But today, Kate found that she didn’t mind so much. If anything, it was funny. Typical, yes, but also amusing.
She began to laugh, chuckling at first, then eventually giving into great hoots of mirth as she shimmied around in the small enclosed space. Executing a perfect pirouette, Kate’s bar of soap flew out of her hand onto the wet tiles, and as she bent over to grope for it, she heard a voice.
‘Kate? Kate is that you? Are you all rig— Oh!’
The Getaway: A holiday romance for 2021 - perfect summer escapism! Page 16