Sunlounger - the Ultimate Beach Read (Sunlounger Stories Book 1)

by Belinda Jones

  ‘To Eros,’ Stella clinking her cup against it.

  ‘To Eros,’ my cup joined the other two, ‘and whoever he flashes at next!’

  About the Author

  Cally Taylor lives in Bristol with her boyfriend, toddler son and their ridiculously large DVD/book/music collection. Her international bestselling romantic comedies, HEAVEN CAN WAIT and HOME FOR CHRISTMAS, were both published by Orion in the UK. They have been translated into 14 different languages, and her debut was voted Debut Novel of the Year by chicklitreviews.com and chicklitclub.com. Cally's latest novel, THE ACCIDENT (written as C L Taylor), is a new direction – a dark psychological suspense – and will be published by Avon HarperCollins in June 2014.

  Website: www.callytaylor.co.uk

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/callytaylorauthor

  Twitter: @callytaylor

  Blog: www.writing-about-writing.blogspot.com

  Visit the Sunlounger website at www.va-va-vacation.com/cally-taylor

  We have everything you need to make this your Best Summer Ever!

  You can also chat with the authors on the Belinda Jones Travel Club Facebook page.

  Return to the contents list.

  HAWAII 5-0

  ***

  Sasha Wagstaff

  Destination: Maui, Hawaii

  Now that the plane is safely on its way to Hawaii, I tug the urn out of my hand luggage and peer inside. It’s impossible to relate the neat pile of dust it contains to my charismatic and totally reprehensible father. Still, what had I expected when I lifted the lid – glitter and canned laughter? Obviously not, but perhaps something that made the dull, grey powder seem more like the dazzling man he’d once been would have helped. I had been half-tempted to paint the urn royal blue and silver in honour of my father’s favourite football team, but in the end it had seemed disrespectful. I smiled to myself. Other dads followed Tottenham Hotspur or Manchester United, but not Ross Badger. He supported the Dallas Cowboys. No rhyme or reason... It was just him.

  ‘Red or white wine?’ asks the air hostess politely.

  ‘Ummm. White, thank you.’ It’s a long flight to Honolulu, after all.

  ‘And for your…’ The air hostess nods towards the passenger in the accompanying seat who is snoring happily, mouth half-open.

  I shake my head. ‘Oh, he’s not mine. I mean, I’m not with him. I’m travelling alone.’ The admission causes a stab of frustration. I drift off, remembering my conversation with Rob a few days before…

  ‘So. What does your dad want you to…you know, do with him?’ Rob asks me, propping his foot up on my prized, mock-Louis XV chair and tightening the laces of his trainer. He expertly knots them before switching feet. ‘Hang on… Did the old reprobate even write a will?’

  ‘Of course he did.’ Following Rob downstairs, I know I sound defensive, but I can’t help it. Ross Badger had been a law unto himself, as the saying went, and a questionable role model in some ways, but he was still my dad. Well, he had been until his untimely death in Thailand six weeks ago. ‘He wants his ashes scattered in Hawaii, for the record.’

  ‘Hawaii?’ Rob hoots. ‘Naturally, Allie. He would choose somewhere on the other side of the world. It wouldn’t be cool for his ashes to be scattered over the local park, would it?’

  I pull a face. ‘We lived in Hawaii for sixteen years, Rob, before we moved here. It’s like Dad’s spiritual home.’ And mine, I realise, my heart lifting at the thought of seeing those beautiful beaches again. I had spent my childhood in Hawaii, enjoying long summers learning to swim and surf. It was where I had first fallen in the love… But I quickly shake off that memory.

  Transporting my father’s body back from Thailand and organising a funeral in Britain had taken some complicated arrangements but the paperwork involved in taking my dad’s ashes to Hawaii had been astonishing. Actually though, the biggest issue had been my job, something I had been forced to deal with by way of a formal resignation. The local school I worked at refused my request for compassionate leave and I felt that I owed it to my dad to perform this ritual now, not in three months’ time when school would be finished for the summer.

  Inside, I’m petrified. My father was prone to walking out on jobs, relationships and responsibilities, so I had resolved to stick to one career, if I could. Resigning had been an anathema, even though I was only a supply teacher, not a permanent member of staff the way Rob is at Portersvale, a snobby school on the other side of town. But Rob knows what he wants from his life, right down to the last detail. Currently Head of P.E. with his eye on a deputy head role – and if not, straight past that and into the headmaster’s office – Rob is ambitious and focused, if not the most sympathetic boyfriend. He isn’t even aware of – ok, I haven’t told him – my resignation. Or of how much I’d forked out on red tape, flights and a stay at a luxurious hotel I sentimentally chose on the basis that it’s close to the old house I used to share with my dad. Knowing Rob detests frivolous spending almost as much as he detests children running in corridors, I’m playing my cards close to my chest, for now.

  Oblivious, Rob noisily fills his water bottle from the tap. ‘I get it; you love Hawaii, babe.’ He leans against the sink. ‘Listen, I know he was your dad and all that, but he was a bit of a mentalist, wasn’t he? I mean, who rides a motorbike on a beach at his age? He was wearing flip-flops, for heaven’s sakes. Flip-flops. No wonder he lost control and ended up crashing into a bar. Honestly, you couldn’t write it, Allie.’

  I chew a fingernail. Rob’s right; it’s probably comical. Aside from the tragic ending. Holidaying in Thailand with Nataya, a girl young enough to be his daughter and then some, my dad had been showing off on the beach, eager to impress a pretty bar tender. Egged on by a group of bystanders, Ross Badger had apparently met his end in spectacular fashion, zooming around on the sand on a dodgy motorbike wearing nothing but shorts and a pair of worn flip-flops. Performing a somersault over the handlebars, he had wound up sprawled beneath a vat of Mai Tais, never to perform an Evel Knievel-like manoeuvre again.

  A fitting finale for someone who had lived his life by the motto: ‘Fun before practicality’, I suppose. A teenager at heart, he would have been fifty the following month. Hawaii 5–0, I think to myself fondly. Scattering his ashes in Hawaii would be poignant…appropriate. Ross Badger would have wet his pants laughing at the absurd symmetry of it all. I lift my chin. My dad might have been a ‘mentalist’, as Rob put it, but he was my mentalist.

  ‘Rob, this is about my dad, but it’s also about me and you.’ I hate begging. ‘Come with me?’

  ‘Me and you?’ Rob starts jogging on the spot, unperturbed. ‘No, it’s not. Anyway, why do you need me to come?’

  ‘I don’t need you to come. I just…you know, want you to come.’

  ‘No can do, babe. Miss Bearden wants me to be involved in the scheduling for the new September intake. This could be my chance for the big time. Deputy Head beckons.’ Brimming with self-importance, Rob swung his arms to warm up. I feel a surge of irritation and grind my teeth. If he starts doing bloody star jumps next, I know I will be forced to slap him…

  Luckily Rob hadn’t performed energetic star jumps, but he had point-blank refused to come to Hawaii, which is far worse. I have been left on my lonesome on a very long flight, my only company an urn full of ashes and a travelling companion who snores like a warthog.

  I settle into my seat. I’d give anything to be going on holiday with my dad, rather than saying goodbye to him, but here I am, heading back to Hawaii. Glorious beaches, jaw-dropping landscape and relentless sunshine. The riot of colour provided by gorgeous, yellow hibiscus flowers and fragrant, pink cottage roses, but best of all, the chilled out, spiritual vibe of the Hawaiians who instantly relaxed whomever they came into contact with. And that final summer… Signalling the end of a wonderful, year-long love affair, complete with swoony, moonlit kisses on the beach, picnics beneath waterfalls and secluded boat trips.

  Greg Farrell. Tawny hair, deep brow
n eyes and a sexy, laughing mouth. Dependable and solid, but fun too, Greg had been a life guard at the local beach, all muscles and red shorts like a better-looking David Hasselhof. We had met when I was eighteen and our friendship had turned into something more serious when we bonded over not having mothers and their nomadic (absent) existence. Greg and his horror of a younger brother – Graham or Gordon or something equally nerdy – had moved from Hawaii, ‘the Big Island’, when their dad got transferred to one of the big banks in Maui. Even at twenty, Greg’s head was full of plans to get married and settle down – he had been the ‘marrying kind’ – although I had felt rather too young for that.

  Still, it hadn’t been an issue either way, as my dad had made yet another major life decision based on a fickle moment of passion that had tipped my world upside down. Hawaii had suddenly been left behind for cold, wet, windy England. My dad’s fling with a curvaceous, up-and-coming English actress who’d been filming some high-profile TV show in Maui had fizzled out like flat champagne when said actress had jetted off to the bright lights of L.A. without a second thought, but me and Greg had resolved to write and meet up.

  I accept another glass of white wine from the air hostess as I reminisce. I had stuck to our long-distance romance, exchanging ardent, heartfelt love letters every few weeks and we had even met up, once. I had returned for a holiday with girlfriends and sparks had flown all over again, but there had been a second visit where Greg had been noticeably absent, at a surf competition, of all things. Having suffered a near-collision with a shark once, surfing had never seemed Greg’s bag, something that had stung when he chose to attend the competition over seeing me. Annoyingly, the old-age cliché had been proven right: long-distance relationships were hard.

  So much for love’s young dream, I think ruefully, giving the man next to me a sharp elbow to halt his pig-like grunting. But what did it matter? Greg was hardly likely to be in Hawaii ten years down the line and me and Rob are happy enough together, despite his refusal to join me on my pilgrimage. Finishing my wine, I slip into a deep, reflective sleep. After what feels like five minutes, I am nudged awake by the stranger sitting next to me.

  ‘We’re almost there,’ the man says, leaning across to take in a brilliant blue sky giving way to lush, green mountains as the plane descends. The passenger turns back and gives me a sympathetic smile. ‘Sorry, I probably shouldn’t say anything, but has anyone told you how loudly you snore?’

  I step out of the plane, feeling warmth envelop me like an old friend. Hawaiian sunshine… How I have missed it! Slipping through customs quicker than expected with my precious cargo in my hand luggage, I take the second, much shorter flight to Maui, grateful that the snoring man isn’t my travelling companion this time. Arriving at the luxurious hotel in southern Maui, whose reception has open sides that allowed a gentle breeze through, I check in, accepting a purple lei from a bikini-clad girl with gorgeous waist-length hair. A layered cocktail with glittery straws is thrust into my hand and once in my room, I carry it out onto the balcony and sip it, gratefully.

  Wow. The view. I take in the tidy rows of sunloungers and a vast swimming pool that glitters and ripples. I watch the waves lapping at the shore, froth tickling the edge of the rocks lining the crescent-shaped cove. Perfect surfing weather, as always; warm, breezy, with fantastic waves. It’s late afternoon, but several surfers still charge out to sea to grab the last of the waves, their hands cleaving through the water before they quickly get to their feet to time their glide perfectly. Unable to resist the waves, I hurriedly change into my wet suit, inhaling the familiar aroma of special shampoo and zip lube (something Greg always used to make jokes about). Giving my dad’s urn a kiss, swamped with regret that he can’t join me, I dash down to the beach.

  ‘You need to hire a board?’ An amiable-looking Hawaiian guy standing by a row of wet suits gives me a broad smile. ‘You’ll grab the last waves of the day, I reckon.’

  ‘Yes, please. I used to have my own, but I left it at home.’

  ‘Shame.’ He grins, giving me an appreciative once-over. ‘Have a look in the hut and enjoy the waves. They’re beautiful today.’

  I check out the boards in the hut. There are plain ones and patterned ones, some more battered than others. I select one and take it to the desk. A tall guy with light brown hair and dark eyes saunters out from the office at the back.

  ‘This one for you? Great choice.’ He eyes me curiously. ‘Just arrived?’

  I nod. I guess my lily-white skin must have given me away. The guy is fairly good-looking and judging by his confident smile, he knows it. He’s staring and I feel self-conscious. Did I even brush my hair before I left my hotel room? It must look like a big, brown bird’s nest. I’ve just been on a fourteen hour flight, plus the one to Maui and I’ve been travelling for… God, I can’t even remember what time I set off. My make up probably needed a touch up too… My eyes are a nice enough blue, but they don’t look that great with day-old mascara caked beneath them.

  ‘Mind if I join you? I’m just about to finish up for the day.’ He follows me out into the late afternoon sunshine, collecting his board without breaking a step. He holds a hand out and stares at me again. ‘I’m Gray, by the way. Listen, this is going to sound so corny, but have we met before?’

  I want to laugh. Really? Was that the best he could do? That was a chat up line from the ark. I feel oddly flattered that he is flirting with me. I’ve been with Rob for a while now; perhaps I miss the banter.

  ‘No, I don’t think so, no. Although… I did live here a long time ago.’ I glance at him again. What did he say his name was… Gray? It’s possible we had met before, but I’m sure I would have remembered him if I had; he’s pretty dishy. This, I now realise, is an understatement. Close up, Gray has broad shoulders and a smile that could melt hearts. And knickers. I remind myself that Rob is waiting for me back home and I look away.

  ‘So, why are you back?’ Gray sweeps an arm to encompass the gorgeous vista. ‘Apart from all this, obviously.’

  I breathe in salty air; it feels cleansing. ‘I’m here for a week or so, but mainly to scatter my dad’s ashes. He loved this place.’

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’ Gray looks contrite. ‘That’s tough.’

  I square my shoulders. I’ll deal with saying goodbye to my father tomorrow. ‘Race you to the waves?’ Without giving Gray a chance to respond, I splash through the shallows, knowing he’ll be hot on my heels. After an exhilarating surf in the last of the day’s waves, we flop panting, onto the beach.

  ‘You’re good,’ Gray comments, flipping his wet hair out of his eyes. ‘Really good. When did you last surf?’

  ‘Oh, years ago. I came here for a holiday to meet up with…’ I stop, feeling silly talking about Greg. It was all so long ago. ‘Well, anyway. That didn’t go so well, but I did quite a bit of surfing. I had plenty of time on my hands.’

  Gray unzips his wet suit, leaning back. ‘I see. A boyfriend?’

  I nod, feeling embarrassed. ‘My first. Childhood sweethearts, I guess. But the last time I came, he was on the Big Island doing some surf competition. After that, we lost touch. Nothing like being side-lined for sport, right?’ I smile.

  ‘You’re kidding.’ Gray frowns and sits up. ‘What’s was his name, this old boyfriend of yours?’

  ‘Greg. Greg Farrell.’ I study Gray. He looks oddly guilty but I have no idea why. ‘You don’t know him, do you? The odds of that have got to be…’

  ‘A million to one, but the thing is, I do know Greg.’ Gray rakes a hand through his hair, which is drying and turning tawny-blond again in the dying sunshine. ‘He’s not here anymore, though. I mean, he’s still in Hawaii, but he lives on the Big Island.’ He pauses, a wicked glint in his dark eyes. ‘You could give him a call; I have his number. I’m just not sure his wife and three kids would be too pleased about it.’

  I let out a laugh. So I had been right about Greg; he definitely was the marrying kind. ‘Wow. Three kids. That’s impressive
.’

  ‘Twin girls and a little boy,’ Gray confirms.

  I get to my feet, wondering why Gray seems so preoccupied. ‘You obviously know Greg well,’ she says. ‘Is he a good friend of yours?’

  ‘Yeah, you could say that.’ Gray checks his watch and waves to a colleague in the beach hut. ‘Listen, I’ve got to close the hut and I’m tied up with something later. How about another surf tomorrow morning? I have the day off.’

  I meet his eyes. It’s tempting. Very tempting. But I know Rob would be put out – and rightly so. ‘I’m scattering my dad’s ashes tomorrow morning. There’s this whale-watching trip he loved and I promised myself I’d do this for him.’ I name a company owned by a family who have been based in Maui for decades. ‘I booked it before I came out here.’ I want to add that I’ll be free after that, but the words die in my throat. You have a boyfriend called Rob, I intone silently. Step away from the hottie.

  Gray looks disappointed but he nods. ‘Well, then you must honour your promise. I hope it goes…you know, as well as these things can go.’

  ‘Thank you. And thanks for the surf. It was amazing.’

  ‘No worries. See you around, Allie.’

  I watch Gray stroll back to the beach hut, feeling deflated. How ridiculous! I’m only in Hawaii to say goodbye to my father, not to flirt with some stranger, however gorgeous he is. Gray is lovely – and it was good, if unexpected, to hear news about Greg. But I have a boyfriend at home. Missing Rob all of a sudden, I phone him as soon as I’m back in my hotel room.

  ‘Oh, hi,’ Rob says, his voice sounding flat.

  ‘Hi.’ I feel about as welcome as a snowstorm on a beach. ‘Is everything alright?’

  ‘Yes. No. Look, you should have said you’d left your teaching job.’