Survive

by Tom Bale

  ‘Regrettable accidents, yes.’

  Accidents like this – being dragged into the sea to drown?

  The question has formed when she suffers a flash of memory: someone at the Adriana welcome meeting asked about a boat crash the previous year. Three young men died and the bodies weren’t recovered for days, by which time they were battered and ruined by the sea. She recalls a few mutterings about the circumstances being a bit odd, but on an island dependent on tourism it was in no one’s interests to ask too many questions. In fact Gabby, with a cynicism she now regrets, used the incident to push the company’s official tours as a safer bet than going it alone.

  ‘But there wasn’t anything… deliberate?’

  His eyes narrow, and then she gets a politician’s response: ‘What happened was unfortunate, but I’m confident the family will emerge unscathed.’

  ‘I hope you’re right,’ she says hotly.

  ‘I’m always right.’ Borko chuckles. ‘Oh, Gabby, you Brits do love to portray yourselves as morally superior. A hangover from your empire days – teaching us “savages” how to behave. But do a little research and you’ll find that the elite of most nations consider themselves to be above the law – usually with good reason.’

  He offers her a surprisingly gentle smile and ushers her along the hall. ‘We shouldn’t forget that for practically the whole of human history, ninety-nine percent of the population – people like Sam and Jody – were peasants or slaves, at the mercy of emperors and kings. The egalitarian world of today is a brief anomaly, already overdue for correction. Surely you would agree with that?’

  Gabby’s mind is in disarray; the unexpected emphasis snaps her out of a daze. ‘Would I? Why?’

  ‘Come on.’ He touches her arm and she shivers. ‘Even at a modest estimation, your father’s portfolio is worth around eight million pounds. That surely excludes you from the common herd?’

  Gabby swallows hard. It isn’t just the fact that she had no idea of her father’s true worth, but that Borko has been snooping into her family’s financial affairs.

  How? she wonders. And why?

  Picking up on her confusion, he says, ‘Papa kept it from you?’

  ‘No, he… I mean, it wasn’t…’

  Borko frowns. ‘I’m disappointed. Your background is one of the reasons I felt you could be trusted to assist me.’

  There’s no mistaking the threat, and it takes all of Gabby’s nerve to steady her voice and say: ‘But that’s not an issue, is it? Because you’ve just told me the family will come through this – and you’re always right.’

  Borko gives her a thin smile, acknowledging that this particular verbal bout has ended in an honourable draw. ‘Of course.’

  57

  They return to the camp. After a couple of attempts to lift the mood, Jody falls silent. Grace and Dylan are worn out, and quietly tearful. Sam has withdrawn into himself, and Jody doesn’t have even a fraction of the energy needed to bring him out.

  The water is passed around. Jody has to intervene when two thirds of the bottle has gone. Sam just shrugs at the suggestion that they must save some for later. His idea of searching for more seems to have gone by the wayside.

  She considers the remaining supplies. ‘I think it was the cake that was drugged. The energy bars have proper wrappers, so they ought to be okay.’

  Again Sam barely reacts, so Jody decides to open one and take a small bite.

  ‘Let’s give it a few minutes. If I don’t flake out, we can share these between us.’

  ‘Whatever. I’m not hungry.’

  She gazes at him for a moment, a silent appeal, but it has no effect. She stands and draws him away from the children.

  ‘Please, Sam, don’t do this.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You know what.’

  A curt shake of his head. His face is contorted with pain. ‘I dropped the key, and he nearly died. I’m a fuck-up.’

  ‘That’s not true. You saved him.’

  ‘You saved him, Jode. You found the key.’

  ‘No. I found it the second time, but you were the one who swam down and got it in the first place.’

  Sam doesn’t argue. There’s a small breathing space before he says, very quietly, ‘They were gonna let him die, weren’t they?’

  Her jaw is clenched too tightly to speak. ‘Mm,’ is all she manages, and a nod.

  ‘Up till then, I thought… maybe it is just a game. That if things got really out of hand they’d turn up and help us. Because we’ve got kids, and no one kills little kids for fun. That’s what I was clinging to. But I was wrong, wasn’t I?’ He asks.

  And all Jody can do is agree with him.

  Sam feels like a spare part, watching Jody at work. Sharing out one of the energy bars. Soothing Grace and encouraging her to swallow another painkiller. Cuddling Dylan as he whispers to her in a solemn voice, then massaging his back until he falls asleep in her arms. Sam knows he would never do these things as skilfully, as naturally, as she can.

  The truth is, he feels much the same at home. He’s always been enthusiastic about helping with the kids, but reflecting on it now he understands how hopeless he’s been. Nappies that Jody had to reattach after he’d put them on wonky or loose. Clothes she would change because he’d chosen outfits that were totally unsuitable. The food he burnt – even simple things like chicken nuggets and potato waffles – when he was asked to make their tea.

  He’s known plenty of blokes over the years who got someone pregnant and then buggered off. Now he wonders if that was the right thing to do – not only for them but for the families they helped to create. His own dad was a complete waste of space, and maybe Sam’s no better.

  He sits on the sand and fiddles with the metal tag he removed from the boat. The sun is falling slowly, and he can think of various things he ought to be doing before it gets dark – set up that trap, collect some firewood, search for water – but he can’t find the energy to start. So he does nothing instead and considers how he can tell Jody that he’s given up. He can’t deal with this anymore.

  She already knows, of course. That’s why she’s ignoring him, taking on all the parental duties without a word of complaint. Once Dylan is asleep, she sits with Grace, talking quietly, secretively. Grace’s leg is hurting again; even from a few metres away, Sam can see how swollen it is. Poor kid needs antibiotics, and soon. But it isn’t going to happen.

  What is going to happen, he knows beyond doubt, is that they will be left here to suffer.

  And suffer some more.

  And then die.

  Grace won’t settle. The ibuprofen has possibly reduced her fever, but not the irritation around the bite itself. On a hunch, Jody gets up and searches among the undergrowth for plants with broad flat leaves. What she finds doesn’t really fit the bill, but since she knows nothing whatsoever about herbal medicine, one type is as good as any other.

  Returning to the camp, she shreds the leaves and uses a couple of small rocks to mash them to a pulp. She moulds that into a ball and places it against the inflamed skin. If nothing else, it might draw out some of the heat. She has no idea if it will work, but her daughter’s gratitude is so humbling it makes her want to cry.

  As it is, she’s been cut to pieces by something Dylan confided to her while she was getting him to sleep. After encouraging him to look forward to getting home and going back to school, he declared he didn’t want to do painting anymore.

  ‘Why not?’ she asked. ‘You love painting.’

  ‘Don’t like it now.’

  It took her a couple of minutes to coax out the reason. In one of the last lessons of the summer term, two other boys had sneaked up behind him and yanked his trousers down while he was standing at a bench in the art room. It was only his trousers, not his pants, and he’d quickly pulled them back up, but the incident had obviously left him embarrassed and ashamed.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me or Daddy?’

  Dylan wouldn’t answer that.


  ‘Was Mrs McGoochan cross with them?’

  ‘She didn’t see. But they were laughing at me. So was Elsie.’

  Although Jody wanted to smile at this, she had to maintain a serious expression. Elsie is the classmate for whom Dylan has, on several occasions, expressed his undying love.

  ‘I’m sure everyone will have forgotten by the time you go back.’

  ‘Will they?’

  ‘Yes. I promise. And painting will still be great fun, you wait and see.’

  This seems to cheer him up, but afterwards, as she reflects on the conversation, what disturbs her is that Dylan has kept this episode to himself for the whole of the summer holidays. Five years old and he’s already capable of keeping secrets from them.

  It mortifies her to recall that earlier she was comparing him to his Uncle Carl, when really he is a sweet, sensitive, good-natured little boy. Not a thug at all.

  With Grace finally asleep, Jody summons the nerve to talk to Sam. He’s barely moved for what must be an hour or more. As she sits beside him, she notices that he’s fiddling with that metal tag again. It’s his version of a comfort blanket.

  ‘Could do with making a fire,’ she says, by way of a greeting. Subtle, eh?

  He sighs. ‘In a bit.’

  Then a long silence. They could almost be Kay and Trevor, sitting mutely while their relationship crumbles.

  Jody rests her fists on her knees, shuts her eyes and takes a deep breath. It shouldn’t be this difficult. It shouldn’t take such effort to ask a question when you’re desperate to know the answer.

  Unless the answer is something you’re dreading.

  ‘This has been, without doubt, the shittiest day of my life,’ she says. ‘And I’m pretty sure I can’t feel any worse than I do now, so you might as well tell me what it is you’ve been hiding for the last few months.’

  Sam gives a start, but there is guilt as well as shock in his eyes. ‘What are you on about?’

  ‘My guess is an affair, though I can’t work out who with. Anyone I know?’

  She stares fiercely, determined to get a response. As she expected, he looks sheepish, downcast.

  ‘I wouldn’t do that.’

  ‘Sam, be honest–’

  ‘I am. I wasn’t sleeping around. But I have screwed up. Again.’ Another big sigh. ‘It’s money.’

  The instant he says it, Jody knows two things: he’s telling her the truth, and she should have guessed it ages ago.

  ‘What have you done?’ This is probably better than yelling: How much? But you wouldn’t think so from the look on his face.

  ‘Ian at the builders’ merchants got a tip on a horse, said it was as close to guaranteed as you can get. Fifteen to one. So I borrowed some money–’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Five hundred quid.’

  ‘What? Who from?’

  His shame is so transparent, so childlike, that for a moment he looks younger than Dylan. ‘One of those online companies…’

  ‘Payday loans?’ She winces. ‘You know my dad warned us about them. They’re pure evil. What is it, a thousand bloody percent or something?’

  ‘I know. But I thought I’d be paying it off straight away. Five hundred quid at fifteen to one, that would have been seven-and-a-half grand. Enough for a wedding.’

  This stops her short. Many times they’ve discussed marriage; always deciding it’s not worth the money. Not when there are so many other priorities. And Jody, if anything, has been more adamant on this issue than Sam.

  She can’t help narrowing her eyes. This could be a ploy, to take the sting out of her fury. ‘You’ve never been that bothered…’

  ‘I thought it would be nice. It’s the right thing to do.’ He sees the doubt, leans forward and places his hands over her fists. ‘I’d have done it years ago if we had the cash.’

  She nods, a little briskly, to make it clear he’s not yet off the hook.

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘Seven, eight months ago. I was trying to make the repayments out of spare change here and there–’

  ‘But we had the savings for this holiday.’

  ‘I couldn’t have used that, not when we’d paid the deposit.’ He shakes his head. ‘I didn’t want to say anything, because it would have been something else to worry about.’

  ‘And I’d have torn your head off.’

  ‘Yeah, that too.’ He manages a rueful smile. ‘Anyway, Paul noticed something was wrong, so I ended up telling him. He settled it for me, and I agreed to work extra hours to pay it off.’

  Jody frowns, remembering numerous times when Sam had vanished on a Saturday afternoon with some vague excuse about helping his uncle with a bit of DIY. One time when he wasn’t home till nine in the evening, she’d complained that Paul ought to be paying him.

  ‘You still should have told me.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘The two of us getting along is a lot more important than a wedding. Or money. And we can’t be happy if we don’t trust each other.’

  She starts crying. So does Sam. They move together and share a long embrace.

  Jody wants to believe this will begin to heal the rift between them, but she can’t shake off the sense, even as she holds him tight, that the man she adored and fell in love with is no longer present.

  58

  Sam feels slightly better as a result of this conversation. In all the time he was hiding the debt from her, he never imagined she’d think he was having an affair.

  In an effort to make amends, he gets busy with the trap. For bait, Jody has the bright idea of using some of the cake. If it knocked them out, it should do the same to the birds. A lot easier to kill them that way.

  His next task is to build a fire. The timber ought to have dried out from the previous night’s storm, but it stubbornly refuses to light. After half a dozen attempts the lighter is empty. He throws it down in disgust. No fire means no way of cooking what they catch – not that a single bird has gone near his trap.

  Dylan and Grace wake up as the sun is dropping towards the horizon. The heat is nowhere near as brutal, and he and Jody agree that they have to make the best of the next couple of hours. They use a few wipes to freshen up, then share the energy bars and more coconut, plus the remaining cans of drink. Still no one wants the bread rolls.

  Sam takes Dylan into the trees to have a pee, but all he can manage is a few drips. Then it’s the girls’ turn, but on the way back Grace is sick, bringing up all the precious food and drink she’s just consumed. Afterwards she’s feverish again, and hardly seems to know they’re there. Jody insists on using a few drops of water to cool her down. Sam can’t argue with that decision, but it feels like another nail in their coffin.

  By tomorrow morning the water will be gone. What happened to Dylan is proof that no one’s coming to rescue them. Another twenty-four hours – forty-eight at the most – and they’ll be finished. Dead.

  Perhaps it’s the prospect of darkness that makes him feel so bleak, but whatever the reason the despair falls on Sam like an avalanche, crushing every last trace of energy and hope. He wanders back and forth along the treeline, brooding over the question Jody ought to have asked – the one that’s never stopped haunting him.

  What if there hadn’t been someone to bail you out?

  Sam knows people whose whole lives have fallen apart because of something like a failed MOT. Can’t afford to fix the car, and that makes getting to work impossible, so then you lose your job. No job means you can’t pay the rent, so you’re out on the street, begging the council for help, and if you’re lucky you end up with your family in some shitty B&B, your kids so far from home that they have to go to a different school or not go at all.

  He shudders. This depressing line of thought seems, in the end, like a slow, bitter way of justifying to himself what has to be done. He’s on the brink of selfish tears, his stomach gassy with pain and fear.

  How’s it going to end? That’s really the only question that
matters.

  And he thinks he has the answer.

  Jody lies between Grace and Dylan, holding hands with them both. She’s got them playing a competition called Find a Star, which basically entails lying very still and staring up at the sky, and the winner will be whoever spots the first star.

  She marvels at the almost imperceptible change from blue to purple, each shade rich and yet subtle, glowing with the soft light of a sun that has fallen out of sight. Every day this happens, every day a miracle of beauty and grandeur. Why have I never really noticed this before? she wonders. Why don’t I take more interest in the world around me?

  Because the world around me is Dylan and Grace.

  Jody keeps up a cheerful mood, though she dreads the coming night. She imagines herself back in a world where humans lived without fire, and she can’t understand how they survived for long enough to evolve into us. Were they worshipped as gods, the people who first found a way to banish the darkness, to turn wood into warmth and light?

  She doesn’t want to dwell on Sam’s failure to get a fire going (or the fact that he dropped the key). But a mean and spiteful thought keeps creeping into her mind: He isn’t husband material. It was a phrase her mum used once, a long time ago. She’s apologised many times since, but Jody has never forgotten it. And until now she’s never dared to consider that her mum might have a point.

  No, that’s unfair. She believes what Sam told her about the debt, and it’s nowhere near as serious as if he’d been cheating on her. In time they’ll pay Paul back and then perhaps start saving–

  Ha! Who is she kidding? Making plans as if life’s going to merrily roll along as it had before. Look around you, Jody. You’re trapped. You still have no idea where you are, or who put you here. And you can’t discuss it with Sam because he’s so volatile, so on edge all the time.

  His state of mind is becoming a huge concern. She senses what it took out of him, to admit to his mistakes, but there’s a lot more to it than that. She doesn’t know how to help because she has no idea where he’s going, inside his head.