The Summer Island Swap

by Samantha Tonge

  I had to break free from Rick before things became more serious. For Mum’s sake and what she’d made me promise on her death bed. I closed my eyes, unable to think of her passing. Instead I got up and brushed myself down. Pasted on a happy face. Forcing myself to hum, I walked back to camp. Amy couldn’t stop talking about tomorrow’s sports day.

  ‘Guess what,’ she said and grabbed my hand, swinging out arms as we walked towards the canteen. ‘I helped Jackie organise the whole event and chose the teams. I’ve arranged it so that you and Rick are paired up for the three-legged race. Time’s ticking if you’re going to have a really memorable holiday romance!’

  27

  I sighed, sitting on my bed having returned from my early morning shower, rehearsing what I’d say to Amy. But it was no good. I couldn’t spoil her dream holiday and leave because of my argument with Rick.

  All night, in bed, I’d dissected the conversation I’d had with Margot. Her words rang in my ears about how the island was a paradise that healed relatives’ broken hearts and that got me thinking about the type of client we could target…

  I got up and stretched. I scraped my hair back into a ponytail. Yet what was the point of brainstorming?

  ‘Klopf, klopf!’ called a voice by the door. ‘Hurry up. The amazing Sunday morning breakfast awaits. I’ve heard rumours that there are chocolate croissants this week – and my favourite spicy sausage.’

  I pulled open the door. Climbed down the steps. Benedikt and Amy waved from ahead. They’d been for an early morning swim.

  ‘You didn’t fancy a dip in the sea?’ I asked. Jonas shook his head. A big grin spread across his face. I pulled him up the ladder and onto my bed.

  ‘Sarah, I’m flattered,’ he protested, ‘but really, you’re not my type.’

  ‘Idiot,’ I said and tugged his arm so that he sat down next to me. ‘Dish the gossip. Why do you look so happy and does it have anything to do with your Hamburger?’

  ‘Maybe, it does, you Londoner,’ he said airily.

  I waited. Nothing.

  ‘Jonas! Did you have a good time up at the house, last night? You’d gone by the time I came out of the beach hut. At least tell me if Benedikt found out what was wrong with the piano.’

  ‘The vibration was caused by the wooden carving of the parrot on top. The base of that wasn’t completely flat so it rocked every time a note was played.’ He eyed me suspiciously. ‘It’s almost as if it was simply a silly excuse to get Benedikt and me up there, together.’

  ‘I knew nothing about that parrot,’ I protested.

  ‘Anyway, Benedikt and I chatted. Do you know, he wasn’t actually born in Hamburg but—’

  ‘Did you kiss?’

  His fingers traced his leather bracelet. A shy look crossed his face.

  Success!

  ‘Not that it’s any of my business,’ I said. ‘Come on. I need that chocolate croissant if we’re running around all day.’

  ‘No. We didn’t. But we talked. You were right. He’s not interested in Amy, you or any woman. And we laughed – a lot. Eventually we headed over to the Games Room and taught each other card games. When we got back to the shack he hugged in a way that told me he might like me back.’

  ‘Oh Jonas. I’m so happy for you.’

  His eyes shone. ‘I was beginning to give up hope that I’d ever meet a man to love – a man who might love me back.’

  ‘It’s amazing, really, isn’t it, that any long-term relationship exists? What are the odds of meeting someone who feels the same, whom you can trust with your life, whom you respect, who is fun…’ I squeezed his arm. ‘You must be beginning to feel so… complete.’

  ‘In a way that I never felt was possible,’ he said hoarsely. ‘It’s very early days but is so great, after all this time, simply to feel I can just be me. I don’t have to put on an act. Or question my feelings.’

  I hugged him tight. Sure, I’d had problems finding the right partner but compared to Jonas… His stomach rumbled loudly.

  He stood up. ‘Come on. My sausage is calling.’

  ‘You already have a pet name for him?’

  ‘Sarah!’

  We hurried over to the canteen and sat down at a table with Amy, Benedikt and Helga. Rick was in the corner with Chatty. As each day passed I’d become more fond of that little monkey. I knew exactly which spot to tickle on his head to stop his impatient squeaks as he relaxed with pure bliss. I loved his gentle, cheeky nature. How he played with Rick and me yet never scratched or bit. And nothing could ever look cuter than him tucking into a treat from Malik.

  I didn’t have much of an appetite until I smelt fried bacon. And eggs. The croissant melted in my mouth. As did the pancake and syrup. The steaming latte was divine. Comfort eating at its best. The morning hygge heat made me feel as if I were strapped against a comforting hot water bottle.

  ‘I can’t move,’ declared Amy and her eyes twinkled. ‘That was almost as good as the Sunday fry-ups you make me back home.’

  ‘I’ll need to enter a lot of races later on, to burn that lot off.’

  ‘I can easily arrange that,’ she said and winked.

  When we finally felt like moving, Amy went with Jackie to the animal enclosures. Jonas stood by the food counter, telling Malik about his favourite sausage recipe with sauerkraut. Benedikt stood right beside him, his arm casually around Jonas’s shoulder. I’d caught Helga watching the two of them, whilst we all ate, with the biggest smile I’d ever seen grace her face.

  ‘The sports day will start in one hour, at eleven o’clock,’ announced Rick as he stood up.

  He didn’t look at me. It hurt. Right in the middle of my chest.

  ‘We’ll meet on the beach. If things get a bit boisterous it’s better to fall on the sand than hard ground.’

  It felt odd having free time during the day. Normally we’d have just returned from a turtle trip, bird counting or trail clearing and would be heading to bed for a short nap before lunch and the afternoon’s activity. Last weekend, when we’d gone into Tortola, I’d bought a handful of postcards. Maybe I’d go back to my shack and write them. Mrs Chips, my next-door neighbour, would be waiting for hers. I liked her almost as much as her surname. She’d become widowed five years ago and we often swapped news as we met, walking into our block of flats. This last year I’d helped her with cleaning and shopping after a fall she had, followed by a bad cold – or just to talk. In return she baked me the most amazing cakes.

  I didn’t have many people to write to. The only things of importance to me, back in England, were inhuman ones like Nelly, my career and my flat.

  I had no partner.

  No mum or dad.

  Dad didn’t count. He’d alienated his relatives over the years, making it clear he thought he was better than them. Even his own parents.

  Same with Mum’s. He’d isolated her. I could see that as I became older. He did the same with Anabelle. I caught her crying, one day.

  ‘Cherish your younger sister, Sarah,’ she’d said. ‘I really miss mine.’

  ‘But she only lives in Nottingham, doesn’t she? That’s not the other side of the world.’

  She’d dabbed her eyes. ‘Your dad says it’s too far. He works so hard to provide for us he needs the weekend to relax. And, he’s right, of course,’ she’d added in a shaky voice. ‘We should all be grateful to him for the comfortable life we have.’

  ‘Well, I’m never letting a man get in between me and Amy,’ I’d declared hotly.

  ‘I hope not,’ she’d said in a low voice, even though he wasn’t in the house. ‘Although… it’s not always as easy as that; not when you fall in love.’

  I’d grimaced and hadn’t understood at the time. But as I got older, I learnt more about domestic abuse. Anabelle’s bruises were emotional ones. Ones I’d never have seen as a child.

  Amy and I hadn’t got to know aunts and uncles. I’d never seen my cousins. If I owned an island like this one, I didn’t know who I’d invite over to stay.
And there was nothing wrong with that, I told myself briskly and stood up. Relying on other people was dangerous. It was much better to be completely independent. My chair scraped the basic tiled floor. Jonas had cleared the plates. I squinted as I headed out into the sunshine. I needed to clear my head.

  First, I’d take a stroll along the beach. My cap was on. I’d applied sun cream first thing – I’d taken on a new morning regime that was far simpler than cosmetic one back in England. The bites and blisters still annoyed me but I’d slowly acclimatised to the heat. Without realising it the camp was becoming a home, just like the basic bed and breakfast had when I first moved out. Perhaps that’s why the human species had survived so well. It was good at adapting.

  I smiled and listened to myself coming over all biological since living on Seagrass Island. I arrived at the beach and pulled off my trainers and socks. I left them in a pile and headed to the water’s edge, bent down and rolled up my trousers. Gentle waves welcomed my toes, like old friends. I whistled a tune, determined to shake off any negativity. A squeak joined in. I turned around and looked up to see Rick and Chatty.

  I whistled ‘Daydream Believer’, ignoring Rick’s gaze. He crouched as I reached up to Chatty who crossed onto me.

  ‘He recognises that tune of yours better than any voice,’ said Rick. ‘It normally takes him longer to take to a new person. His tail wrapped around your neck is the ultimate accolade. He doesn’t even do that with Jackie.’

  Its furriness tickled the skin below my ears. With one arm raised so that I could scratch the monkey’s head, I turned back to the horizon. In the distance, yachts skimmed the water’s surface. Further along, to the right, shouts and screams led me to notice Carlotta and her friends played ball in the sea. She spotted Rick and strode out of the ocean in a white bikini, like Ursula Andress in that Bond movie. All that was missing was a knife strapped to her bottoms. She ran up to Rick and on tiptoe put a hand on his shoulder.

  ‘Is it still okay to come around to yours later, bello?’

  Bello?

  ‘Sure thing.’

  She grinned at me before running off.

  ‘Carlotta… her and me… it’s…’

  ‘None of my business,’ I said.

  Rick moved forwards and stood by my side. His fingers intertwined with mine. For a moment I forgot myself and squeezed his back. Then I stepped away and glared.

  ‘No. I’m sorry. After saying I’m ignorant about the needs here and only out for myself? Believing that I went purposefully behind your back? All of this…’ I batted the air between our hands. ‘I don’t think so.’ Gently I unwound Chatty’s tail, lifted him down, kissed him on the head and placed him back on Rick’s shoulder, even though he stretched out his little furry arms to come back. ‘You and me… whatever it was… it’s over now. I’ve helped you with your website. Passed on my luxury hotel proposal to you and your family. I’m done. You can easily find another manager if my idea does go ahead. Let’s leave it at that.’

  I ran across the sand as fast as I could, as if the sports day had already started.

  28

  Amy tied my left leg tightly to Rick’s right whilst Jackie stood to one side with her whistle. Across the beach ten couples were lined up. Others stood at the sides to cheer us on, having already had their go in a previous round. Jonas and Benedikt were together and neither had looked so happy since they’d arrived. On the other side of them were their Scottish roommates Alistair and Greg who’d be leaving at the end of this week. Helga had teamed up with Carlotta who’d been standing close to Rick until the pairings were announced. Her chin had practically touched the sand when she’d discovered she wasn’t to be his partner.

  Out of necessity Rick and I had an arm around each other’s waists. I’d managed to avoid him during the event so far. The tug of war had been easy, with the staff – permanent volunteers, Rick, Jackie and Malik – playing against a team made up from the rest of us. I hadn’t taken part in the one hundred metres dash. Nor had Rick. Jackie whispered that it was because he always won and felt bad about that.

  Why did he have to have such attractive qualities? I knew from crushes on famous people that if someone had an ugly personality their hotness soon diminished. Like the soap star with entrancing green eyes and a snappy dress sense. He’d been caught stealing from a charity he supported and instantly loss his gloss.

  Rick’s allure simply increased the more I saw him interact with any living thing. He even gave up his banana for the fruit and spoon race, knowing it would be one of the easiest fruits to balance because of its shape and less smooth texture. He persuaded one of the shyer volunteers, Dario from Spain, to swap with him – told some story about the smell of bananas making him gag. Dario had been given a round, shiny passion fruit that would have easily toppled off. Sure enough, a beaming Dario came first.

  We’d had a clothes relay and sack race after one Amy secretly called the starfruit snog. It involved dividing everyone into six big teams. They lined up and then had to pass a starfruit between their necks to win, without using hands. If anyone dropped it on the ground the team had to start again. There was a real knack to pinning the fruit to your chest, with your neck, whilst turning around from one team member to the next. The fruit’s ridged sides helped. Unsurprisingly Amy positioned me not only in the same team, but right next to Rick – even though he’d offered to stand in for Amy several times and let her take part. However, Jackie had insisted Amy had fantastic organisational and leadership skills and was key to the sports day’s success. So we’d got up close. I’d smelt his subtle aftershave. Briefly our skin had touched and I’d tried to ignore the flare of heat in my stomach.

  Compared to that, the last race didn’t seem so bad.

  ‘Everyone ready?’ called Jackie.

  I stared straight ahead.

  ‘Shall we start with our outside foot?’ Rick asked.

  ‘Sure,’ I said politely.

  I didn’t like falling out with anyone. I hated sounding anything like my dad. That’s how he’d sulk with Amy and me, and with his wives – after issuing blatant insults in a matter of fact way, as if there was no doubt his opinion was right, the passive aggressive tone would kick in. He’d be super polite and distant, bearing an unjustified aura of disappointment. This could go on for days. As a result, Anabelle would become more subservient by the hour, cooking his favourite meal, wearing more makeup and even smarter clothes than usual.

  It would make me feel sick - and when the ice finally broke and she gratefully fawned over him.

  ‘Three… two… one…’ Jackie blew her whistle.

  I moved forward with my outside leg. Slowly we got into a rhythm and built up pace. The couple on our right shrieked as they tumbled to the ground. I lost my balance halfway along and almost fell but Rick pulled me up. Then he tripped and I righted him. I started counting out loud so that we knew on which beat to move the next leg.

  ‘Go, Sarah!’ shouted Amy.

  Suddenly I wanted to win. I couldn’t be the most knowledgeable conservationist here, or the bravest. Tarantulas still sent shivers down my spine. And Rick clearly thought my hotel proposal was ignorant. But the three-legged race, this small triumph – maybe I could do this.

  I counted louder and built up speed. My chest heaved, my pulse raced, my ponytail flicked sharply from side to side. We overtook two couples and I spotted Jackie at the finishing line. The sand felt uneven beneath my feet and we had to steer around a piece of driftwood.

  ‘Almost there, Sarah, you’re doing brill!’ hollered Amy.

  Sure of victory, I pushed forwards even more, spurred on by my little sister. It reminded me of when, about a year after Mum died, I started baking. Anabelle had moved in with us and was always on a diet. Yet she never forced me and Amy to eat more healthily. In fact, she’d send me sympathetic looks when Dad made one of his unkind comments. I saw an old photo of her once. I’d been snooping through her things when she first moved in and found an old album. Anabelle ha
d caught me. Yet she didn’t get angry and let me flick through until I came to some photos of her at high school, with curves and fuller cheeks. She looked great. But at that point she’d taken the album away.

  Anyway, her calorie counting meant it was down to me to re-create the comforting snacks Mum had provided. Amy would always be the first to taste my offerings and insist on second helpings, even when I shredded the carrot too thickly and it stayed crunchy in the carrot cake, and when my peppermint biscuits turned out so strong they tasted of mouthwash.

  She cheered me again and I ended up running faster than Rick. In the excitement I’d stopped counting.

  ‘Hold up, Sarah,’ he said. ‘We’re no longer in sync.’

  You said it, I almost replied. ‘Try to keep up.’

  Rick and I were neck and neck with another couple. We only had a few metres to go. I leant forward, hoping that would help and… Oh no! The front of my toes caught a clump of dried up seaweed and I shot forward. Due to the speed I pulled Rick with me. We both hurtled downwards. His chin ended up in my stomach.

  ‘Get off!’ I hissed.

  He sat up. We looked at each other, his hair spikier than ever. We both spat out sand. The other couple flew past us to the finishing line. Rick reached forward and pulled something from my hair – a vibrant clump of lime green seaweed. Trying to catch my breath, I smoothed down my ponytail. Rick caught my eye, paused and then placed the seaweed on his head. Seawater dripped down his face.

  ‘That’s a vast improvement,’ I muttered.

  Amy came over. ‘Oh, what bad luck! You two almost won.’

  She helped me up. Carlotta helped up Rick and, laughing, she took off the seaweed. I couldn’t help bristling at the easy manner between them. We untied our legs and strolled over to water’s edge, whilst everyone else congratulated Amy and Jackie on a brilliant day and headed off to the canteen for cold drinks. I told Amy I’d catch her up. Rick and I started to walk.

  ‘Sarah, about…’

  I waited for it – for what Dad would have said. How a superficial charm would explain to me how the argument about the hotel had been my fault; how he’d forgive me, just this once.