Head Over Heels

by Felicity Price

  ‘Go on, I dare you,’ Simon said, after explaining what it was.

  ‘I think I’ll stick with the fish today. I’ll work my way up to the goat.’

  ‘Coward,’ he said, helping himself to the casserole and a ladle of chips.

  ‘Healthy choice,’ I said sarcastically, pointing at the fries.

  The trouble with self service, of course, is that you — or at least I — tend to serve yourself far more than you really need, so I was ready for a bit of a lie-down by the time we finished the dessert of baklava and ice cream. I knew perfectly well that I didn’t need it. In fact, if I wanted to look any good in my swimsuit in the ensuing days, I certainly didn’t need it. I badly wanted a better figure, but not as badly as I wanted dessert.

  So I ate it anyway, telling myself I was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder and I deserved indulgence for at least a day or two after the event. Besides, I’d avoided the chips, and ‘desserts’ is ‘stressed’ spelled backwards — so they must reverse its effects.

  Simon and I excused ourselves afterwards and took the coffee to our room, where he collapsed back on his bed and closed his eyes. I took the opportunity to finish my coffee, then picked up my toilet bag and towel and headed for the women’s bathroom, a short walk down the hallway and around the corner. Again fairly utilitarian and spotlessly clean, it contained a long row of white basins set into a white Formica benchtop. Beyond, were toilets and shower cubicles, the white walls relieved by Wedgewood blue doors and seats.

  ‘It’s pretty basic as bathrooms go,’ one of the pony-tailed, bespectacled scientists said as she looked up from brushing her teeth.

  ‘There aren’t even any mirrors,’ I said. ‘Are they worried we’re going to become narcissistic or something?’

  ‘It’s all set up for guys,’ she said. ‘The only mirror is this one’ — she pointed at a little round magnifying mirror sticking out from the wall on an extension arm — ‘for shaving.’

  ‘No chance of growing a beard then,’ I laughed.

  ‘It’s great for plucking eyebrows though …’

  ‘… and any stray hairs on the chin,’ I added.

  She continued to smile. ‘You probably don’t remember my name — you had to meet so many people. I’m Harriet, I’m from Birmingham. I’ve been working with Simon in the laboratory. He’s a lovely man. We’re all so relieved he’s okay.’

  ‘Me too. I’ve never been so glad to see him as I was last night. I’m so glad it’s over and we’re here now.’

  Back in the cabin, Simon was stretched out on top of his bed, reading a book — a thriller, by the look of the cover.

  I deposited my toiletries in my bedside drawer and set about getting ready for bed.

  ‘Those are very sexy PJs,’ Simon said quietly.

  I turned around. He’d put his book down and was studying me closely.

  ‘I thought you were tired,’ I teased.

  ‘I was until I saw you in those PJs.’

  I looked down at myself. I had on my coolest summer pyjamas: a spaghetti-strap singlet and thin cotton pants. They didn’t look in the least bit sexy to me, especially with the extra muffin of fat tipping over the top of the drawstring of the pants — a muffin that hadn’t been there last time I looked. (Not that I liked to look too often.) I pulled up the waist a little higher to hide it.

  ‘Perhaps I should take them off, then,’ I volunteered, grinning cheekily at him.

  ‘I think I should take them off for you,’ he said huskily. ‘Come over here and let me get started.’

  So I did. And he did. Get started, I mean. And before I knew it I was lying on top of him, neither of us wearing our PJs (which, in his case, comprised a raggedy old T-shirt and a pair of undies), and things started to get a bit steamy. Well, very steamy, actually.

  Simon’s the world’s leading expert at the slow-mo arousal technique. And just as you’re beginning to think this pleasurable feeling of being on the brink of an orgasm might last forever, he makes his move inside you and whammo! The world explodes with a hundred thousand shooting stars inside your eyelids and the earth has truly moved.

  Kaboom!

  The cabin felt like it was about to implode. Everything shook violently for a few seconds and something fell off one of the shelves and clattered onto the hard floor.

  The earth really had moved!

  But wait a minute — we were on a ship. The earth couldn’t have moved … My brain took a moment to catch up with reality.

  ‘What the hell was that?’ Simon’s brain was, unsurprisingly, ahead of mine.

  ‘Shit!’ I cried, realising something other than our coupling had caused an almighty explosion. I leapt off Simon and peered out the window.

  Outside, it was as if nothing had happened. Our moonlit view across the harbour to the hills beyond was exactly the same as when we went to bed — twinkling lights all around the encircling marina, with the yachts rocking at their moorings. Then I realised just how much they were all rocking, and that we were rocking too.

  ‘I bet that’s another bomb.’ Simon joined me at the window. His face had gone white. I figured it had brought it all back to him.

  ‘Can’t see anything unusual out this side.’

  ‘Must be somewhere on the other side.’

  ‘Probably in the town again.’

  ‘It sounded a lot closer than the town.’

  ‘It sounded like it was right outside.’

  We both flailed around trying to find our discarded clothes.

  ‘Well, it can’t have been this ship or some sort of alarm would have gone off,’ I reasoned.

  ‘And the lights, too, probably.’ Simon was zipping his jeans and simultaneously thrusting his feet into his sandals.

  I pulled on my T-shirt and found my shoes, jabbing them on as I followed Simon out the door.

  The corridor was full of people in various states of attire running backwards and forwards, most of them heading towards the deck. I followed Simon to the stairwell.

  ‘What the hell’s going on?’ Harriet caught me up at the top of the stairs and followed me down.

  ‘I hope it’s not another bomb.’

  ‘Sounded a lot like one.’

  ‘Yeah, just like the one the other day, only a lot louder,’ said another one of the researchers behind her.

  ‘And a lot closer,’ Harriet said.

  We headed towards the deck facing the town. As soon as the man in front of Simon thrust open the heavy door we were hit by a blast of warm air and a bright orange glow.

  ‘It’s one of those luxury yachts,’ Simon said, grabbing hold of me as if he could protect me from danger.

  ‘And look, it’s right next to that big cruiser we saw filling up with gasoline today.’

  I could feel a knot of fear in my midriff and it was spreading fast.

  ‘My God, she could really blow,’ an American voice said behind us.

  ‘Oh no!’ I said, feeling absolutely helpless in the face of impending disaster.

  ‘We’re trapped!’ Harriet cried. ‘The fire’s between us and the town.’

  Suddenly, our ship’s engine started and the horn gave three loud blasts, making me jump.

  ‘Clear the decks,’ the captain’s voice said over the loudspeaker behind us. ‘Everybody must go below. We are departing port immediately.’

  I looked at my watch. It wasn’t yet midnight. We weren’t supposed to be casting off until the next morning.

  ‘Well, that’s a relief,’ the American said. ‘I don’t want to be here if that fire spreads.’

  ‘We’d better go back inside,’ I said, pulling Simon behind me.

  ‘Let’s go to the mess room,’ he said, steering me in that direction. ‘We’re more likely to find out what’s going on there.’

  ‘I’m coming with you,’ Harriet said.

  ‘Me too,’ said the American.

  We sped along the corridor to the big room we’d had drinks in earlier. Lots of others had the same ide
a — the room was gradually filling up. Everyone was talking in staccato sentences, trying to find out what was going on and whether anyone knew if it was a bomb.

  ‘It’d be nice to think there was no one on that boat,’ the American said to Simon.

  ‘But why would they target a fancy boat? And why that boat in particular?’

  Nobody could answer that one.

  ‘Come on, Penny, let’s put the jug on,’ Harriet said. ‘All the kitchen staff are probably up on deck. We’ll have to do it ourselves.’

  So we did what every good woman does in a crisis: we made tea while a hundred metres or so away the fire continued to burn fiercely.

  ‘Look, the fire engines are arriving.’

  Through the mess room window I could see a line of red flashing lights streaming along the main road through the marina towards the burning ship. At that moment, there was a graunching sound down below, a sudden jolt and an increase in the sound coming from the engines. Then I could feel movement.

  ‘We’re away!’ someone cried.

  ‘Thank God for that,’ said another.

  Slowly we moved along the side of the wharf, where a flotilla of boats was doing what we were doing — heading out of the marina towards the open sea.

  ‘They must be evacuating the marina,’ someone said.

  ‘At least around this part of it.’

  Sure enough, the bigger boats moored near us were moving out too.

  As we joined them, the flames slowly disappeared from view. All that remained was the bright orange glow and the increasingly thick pall of black smoke blotting out the moon and all the marina lights behind.

  ‘They’re using foam to put the fire out,’ said a man standing by the window.

  ‘They’re pouring it on,’ said another.

  ‘Let’s hope it puts it out real fast.’

  Harriet and I didn’t see much after that: we were flat out pouring tea and making coffee. There was such a buzz in the room, everyone high on adrenalin, that nobody wanted to go back to bed. We were given a running commentary by whoever was near the window, and from the occasional person who’d ventured out on deck, but until we managed to get away from the marina, the smell of smoke and requests from the bridge to stay below made deck-side trips few and far between.

  The scientists, of course, were full of theories about whether the smoke smelled of whatever you make bombs out of, and there was a lot of joshing about people using gelignite to blast fish out of the water. It seemed that the more cups of tea they drank, the more outlandish their claims and suppositions, until one of the crew came down from the bridge to bring us back to reality.

  ‘That’s Koray, the first mate,’ Simon whispered. ‘He must have news.’

  There was an instant hush.

  ‘There is no need for concern,’ Koray began, in near perfect English. ‘We are now far from danger.’

  ‘Was it a bomb? Was it a terrorist attack?’ one of Simon’s fellow researchers asked.

  ‘No, not a bomb,’ Koray said quietly, with a slightly ironic smile. ‘It was, in fact, an attack from too much raki.’ He paused while several questions were fired at him. ‘The Turkish chef on one of the big yachts was fond of his raki and fell asleep while cooking himself a meal. He was the only one on board. The owners flew to Istanbul this morning after the bomb, so unfortunately for the owners he could drink as much as he liked without being noticed. He put a pot of oil on the stove and apparently forgot about it. It caught fire.’

  ‘Did he die?’

  ‘No, incredibly, he survived. He had fallen asleep on the deck and was blown into the water — where he woke up very quickly indeed!’

  ‘Some wake-up call,’ an American threw in.

  ‘I bet it set his world on fire!’ another rejoined.

  Most of us tittered, relieved there were no casualties and that it hadn’t been another bomb.

  ‘Thanks to the speed and efficiency of the fire service, the blaze spread no further,’ Koray added. ‘But while there was still a threat of it spreading, we were advised to leave the harbour immediately. It is very good to be well away from there.’

  He wouldn’t say where we were heading for now, shrugging his shoulders and saying evasively that we would find out when we woke up in the morning. He suggested we make for our cabins, setting the example by bidding everyone goodnight and departing.

  A few people stayed to talk. I turned back to the kitchen.

  ‘Come on, let’s get out of here,’ Simon said, putting his arms around me as I began stacking mugs into the dishwasher.

  ‘Go on, I’ll finish off. We’re nearly done,’ Harriet said. ‘You did a great job for your first night on board.’

  ‘Yeah, you want to watch it or you’ll be seconded into making the tea,’ Simon teased.

  ‘Well, I’ve certainly had about all the excitement I can take for one night,’ I said, happily abandoning the dishwasher.

  ‘Me too,’ Harriet said.

  ‘Seriously, Penny,’ Simon said once we were out in the corridor, ‘I’m really sorry for putting you through all this. If I had any idea …’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. I’m fine. And so are you. And that’s all that matters.’

  ‘But I should have thought …’ His brow was furrowed with concern.

  ‘You weren’t to know,’ I said, leaning into him and squeezing his hand. ‘This kind of thing hardly ever happens. There was no way you could have known it would happen here, now.’

  ‘I still feel responsible somehow.’

  ‘The only thing you need to take responsibility for is making the earth move in ways you never have before,’ I said, grinning mischievously. ‘This is going to be the most memorable holiday ever!’

  He smiled down at me, the worry lines fading fast. ‘Just don’t expect a repeat of that last performance.’

  Chapter 20

  I fell into such a deep sleep I reckon it would have taken another explosion to revive me. When I finally woke up, Simon’s bed was empty and sunlight was streaming under the bottom of the curtains covering the small window. I pulled them apart and almost cried with delight, such was the heavenly sight outside.

  We were anchored in the middle of a sheltered bay in a sea so azure and dazzling it looked like a tourist brochure. It was that deep cerulean aquamarine you associate with the Mediterranean islands, and it was so clear you could see the bottom. Running down to the sea were light brown hills dotted with knotty bushes and gnarly trees that had somehow managed to get a foothold in the rocky scree. I hadn’t the faintest idea where we were or why we’d stopped in such a seemingly isolated spot.

  Quickly I showered and dressed in shorts, T-shirt and sandals and headed for the deck. Looking out the port side of the ship, the bay was only marginally more populated. A hundred metres or so from where the ship had anchored was a jetty, with several yachts moored to it, much smaller than the flash ones we’d seen at Marmaris. At the beach end of the jetty was a canvas-covered makeshift building. Nearby, jutting out of the calm blue sea, was what appeared to be a submerged ruin. I’d blend in with the surroundings then.

  Apart from the gentle thrum of the generators below deck, it was remarkably quiet. I leant on the railings and breathed in the sea air, turning my face to the sun and revelling in its warmth.

  ‘Hard to beat, isn’t it?’ said a familiar voice coming up behind me. I turned to smile at Simon. ‘I thought I’d find you out here.’

  ‘I slept in, I can’t believe it. It’s after nine.’

  ‘Hardly surprising after last night. I haven’t been up long myself.’

  ‘Where are we?’

  ‘Somewhere at the top of Skopea Limani, east of Marmaris, at a place called Ruin Bay — for obvious reasons,’ he said, indicating the orderly arrangement of ancient grey stones rising out of the sea. ‘Apparently the captain knows the owner of the restaurant here. They were in the navy together.’ He looked around. ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’

  ‘Sure is.
And so quiet.’ I paused to hear the sound of silence. ‘Did we come very far overnight?’

  ‘About eighty miles, I think somebody said. That’s far enough from Marmaris for you not to have to worry any more.’

  ‘I’m not worried. I’m not worried at all. This is just heavenly.’ I breathed in the slightly salty air and picked up the aroma of baking bread. ‘Is that divine smell coming from the ship’s galley?’

  ‘No,’ Simon laughed. ‘It’s from on shore. That restaurant at the end of the jetty makes Turkish bread every morning for visiting yachties.’

  ‘It’s made me realise I’m hungry. I suppose breakfast is off now?’ I was aware there were set times for meals and nine o’clock in the morning would be well past breakfast time.

  ‘There’s always coffee and rolls. You’ll be able to get something, don’t worry.’

  ‘Can we go ashore?’

  ‘Of course. They’re taking the ship’s tender over to the jetty when anyone wants to go.’ Simon looked at his watch. ‘We’re here for the next twenty-four hours for some R and R. We’re ahead of schedule because we left Marmaris a couple of days early, so the research team has agreed with the captain to have a day to pull ourselves back together in the aftermath of the bomb blast. From tomorrow, we’re out to sea for several days in a row. So if you want to go for a swim or go on shore, now’s the time to make the most of it.’

  I didn’t need a second bidding. With Simon in tow, I scooted back to our cabin, threw together togs, towel, hat, snorkel, sunnies and sunscreen, grabbed some money and was down at the tender before you could say Skopea Limani.

  The big inflatable dropped us off at the restaurant, where I dined on the fresh warm bread and a tiny cup of Turkish coffee so strong it set my heart pumping.

  Ray was also having breakfast with a couple of other guys and called across to our table, ‘Hey, Simon, aren’t I right when I say you’d never want to live with a woman again?’

  ‘Why’s that?’ Simon asked, looking confused.