by Karen Swan
‘My turn!’ Linus hollered, and they turned to see him standing on the edge of the boat.
‘What are you going to do?’ she called up.
‘The penguin!’
‘No!’ she said quickly. ‘It’s too high from there, you’ll hurt your head!’ But she was too late. With his arms pinned to his sides, he dived in head first. ‘Linus!’ she chided, as he surfaced seconds later with a triumphant look. ‘You could have hurt yourself!’
‘But I didn’t!’
‘But you could have done.’ Her nerves were frayed again. One moment dormant, the next tingling.
‘But I didn’t. I’m okay.’
‘You did a great job, bud,’ Emil said, interrupting them, playing good cop again, overruling her. ‘Right, my turn. You can decide what I do this time.’ He turned away and swam over to the boat, hauling himself onto the ladder, muscles taut as he heaved himself out of the water.
‘Do the penguin!’ Linus cried. ‘See if you can do it as good as me.’
‘Okay then.’ Emil walked across to their diving-off point.
‘. . . Is that a good idea?’ she called, as he positioned himself at the edge, peering down into the endless blue.
He gave her a quizzical glance. ‘I’m not ten.’
The crew, sprawled on the nets, chuckled. They were resting, some of them napping, before the inevitable exertions of the journey home.
‘No, but – I mean . . .’ She didn’t want to say it out loud, to make a big thing of it in front of the other men. ‘You don’t want to get a headache.’
‘I’ve already got a headache. I always have a headache.’
For some reason, this prompted another laugh, and before she could protest further he sprang forward, his body like a blade. It was a good dive, and he popped up seconds later to cheers, but she thought she saw the minute tightening of the muscles across his face.
‘Let’s do it together!’ Linus cried, fast crawling back to the boat.
‘Okay, sure.’
‘Do you think that’s a good idea?’ she asked again, quietly, as he went to swim past.
‘Bell, what are you, the fun police? I’m having fun with my son. Could you let it be?’
‘I’m just worried –’
‘Well, don’t be. I’m not your concern.’ He blinked at her, droplets on his face.
‘All right. Whatever,’ she mumbled, kicking away and watching as he swam to catch up with his son. He was right. She was overreacting to everything, as jumpy as a cat.
She watched as they went again and again, trying different combinations of dives and jumps – screwdrivers, penguins, backward dives, bombs, side dives, tucks, pikes, bellyflops . . . She knew the impacts were making Emil’s head ring, she could see it on his face every time he surfaced, in that split second as he gasped for air before he could ready a smile. But he was right. She wasn’t his keeper. He was a grown man who could manage the risks to himself, a father going to any lengths to bond with his son.
It was working, too. She saw it in the way Linus maintained eye contact as he talked now, his laugh was readier, he was hungrier; crucially, he was getting a bit cheekier as he became more relaxed.
‘Bell!’ They were both looking at her. ‘Jump with us.’
‘Really?’ she asked sceptically. She’d been treading water for ages and was a little chilled, her skin wrinkling quickly. But she swam over and climbed out. ‘So what are we doing?’
‘You choose,’ Linus said. ‘We can’t think of any more.’
She thought for a moment. ‘Well, I guess we could try the spinning top.’
‘The what?’ Emil frowned.
‘I’ve only done it as a two before, but I’m sure it’ll work as a three. We just need to make sure we jump out far enough. We jump in as a circle, but spinning.’
His frown deepened. ‘Spinning?’
‘It’s important to hold on tight or it’ll break up when we enter the water. So hold your arms out and clasp mine, at the elbow there –’ She held hers out and felt his hand grip her upper forearm. ‘Linus?’ She looked across to join up on the other side, but she had only a split second to process his mischievous face as his hands shot forward and pushed both of them off the boat.
There wasn’t even time to scream as she and Emil landed side-on in the water, instantly surrounded by millions of tiny bubbles hissing and fizzing around them that cleared as quickly as they’d come. For a moment – just one – his face was all she could see in the deep blue sea, his sad eyes not hidden for once by the armour of his shades. Away from the crew’s chatter and Linus’s over-excitement and the billionaire boat, there was just peace and stillness as they looked at each other underwater. No distraction, no filters, no hiding.
The air in their lungs made them buoyant and they popped up to the surface, the real world coming back into full colour and sound.
‘Linus!’ she hollered, remembering her indignation. ‘You are a cheeky monkey!’
The weather was fully on the turn. It was still bright and warm, but the wind had picked up and the clear skies had become heavier through the afternoon, the razor-line of the horizon now blurred into indistinction.
Mats didn’t like the look of it and had ordered the crew to get ready to set sail again. Bell was sunbathing on a towel; she didn’t need to tan, but it gave her an excuse to be out of the way – both of the crew, and Linus and Emil beside her, who were now deep in conversation. Or rather, Linus was machine-gunning Emil with question after question about the boat: ‘What’s a Code Zero spinnaker?’; ‘Can it tip over?’; ‘Has it tipped over?’; ‘Have any men gone overboard? Have any men been lost at sea?’; ‘Have any drowned?’; ‘Why aren’t you skipper?’
Bell was listening with one ear open, and heard Emil stall at that last one.
‘Can’t you sail any more?’ Linus pressed.
‘I can sail, of course, but a craft like this is technical and highly physical.’
‘So you’re not strong enough?’
There was another pause. ‘It’s not just a question of strength, Linus.’
‘What, then?’
‘. . . Well, obviously I could do it.’
She heard the sound of footsteps.
‘Your dad’s right, little man,’ said the Aussie voice. ‘I know it might look easy, but trust me, this isn’t for amateurs. This is an expensive boat. It can go four times faster than the wind. It’s best to leave it to professionals, and you guys just clip on and enjoy the ride.’
There was a small silence and then Emil spoke. ‘Well, I don’t have to do that, clearly.’
Bell heard the silence and turned her head, seeing Mats frozen in a crouch in front of Linus, holding out his bespoke, all-black Linea life jacket. ‘Well, no, I didn’t mean you . . .’ But his hesitation betrayed evident uncertainty.
‘Will you skipper us home, then?’ Linus asked him, green eyes shining with the wonderment that accompanied his new-found father’s every move.
Bell felt her stomach tighten. Linus wasn’t challenging his father; he was investing his hopes in him, which was worse. She sat up, her dread growing again.
Emil smiled tightly. ‘. . . Sure. Why not?’
Mats looked back at Bell for help – as though she had any influence over him! Several of the crew stopped what they were doing and looked up with sceptical expressions, low hisses as they whispered below their breath. But if Emil heard their doubts, it only served to make him more determined.
‘Yes, that’s a great idea, in fact,’ he said, warming to the idea. ‘Well done, Linus. Will you be my first mate?’
Linus gasped so deeply, Bell thought he was going to sneeze. ‘Oh, can—?’
‘No!’ she said, so quickly, she was sitting up and positioning herself between the two of them, her hands automatically outstretched onto his shoulders and holding him firmly. Emil’s gaze went to them as before, but this time she didn’t remove them. ‘No.’
A moment passed in which she thought he was
going to berate her again, defy her in front of all these men, but then – either because he saw the madness of what he was suggesting, or he clocked the unwavering defiance in her eyes – he relented. ‘On second thoughts, you’re probably too light, bud; the wind’s got up.’
They all looked up at the darkening sky. The clouds were gathering quickly, and she’d sailed through enough storms to know they wouldn’t outpace this one. They had overstayed their time here. ‘You’d best stay clipped by the rails with Bell. I don’t know what your mother would do to me if I told her we’d lost you at sea. She’s pretty scary when she gets mad.’
He winked and Linus laughed, and Bell could see he seemed to revel in the familial intimacy implied in such a scenario. His father and mother, together in a story; together in real life? Was this the first time such a thought had occurred to him? Even with the excitement and novelty that Emil had brought to his life, Bell knew he had still only ever seen Max as his father. Until now.
‘Let’s go,’ Emil said, looking first at Mats and then casting pointed looks at the crew, who all nodded reluctantly at this management takeover.
The atmosphere was different on the way back: the dizzying joy that had accompanied their playful, boastful, ‘faster, faster’ sortie on the way out had become muted and tense. The crew seemed to be working twice as hard as they had on the outbound leg, and several times, Bell saw Emil shout an order that made them stop in their tracks and look at one another quizzically, before Mats would countermand it with either a tiny shake of his head or give another under his breath.
Emil didn’t seem to notice, his gaze pinned to the horizon. He had planted his legs in a wide-legged stance, but as the swell grew, it became harder and harder for him to remain stable. He didn’t have either Mats’ strength or his balance. Linus was clipped in beside her and she threw urgent glances Mats’ way, but he could only shrug, feeling as helpless as she did. Emil was the boss. This was his boat.
They cut a jagged path over the sea, turning erratically as Emil struggled with the power required to work against winds of this force. The men were repeatedly knocked off their feet, jumping up again and trying to undo mistakes; they were sailing upwind now, and Emil was just performing a gybe when the boom swung round with dangerous force and almost caught one of the men. He ducked, only just in time.
It was a near miss, but there was no time to count any blessings as another gust caught the sails violently. It was the kind Mats had been able to harness on the way out, lifting them onto the hydrofoils and out of the water – but they weren’t yet out of the turn, and the sail was instead forced leewards, towards the water. Immediately, the far side of the boat began to lift.
They were going to capsize.
Bell screamed, hooking one arm around the rail and grabbing Linus with her other. They were clipped on – that was keeping them safe. But if the boat went over, they’d be tethered underwater. Not safe.
‘Hike out!’ Mats yelled and the crew raced, as one, across the width of the boat. They were like marines on a commando course, powerful and hunched, hands and feet scrabbling over the nets before they clipped onto the rails in a seamless leaping movement and stretched their bodies at full lengths over the side of the boat, leaning out as counterbalances. Bell saw them strain as the sail’s tip skimmed the very surface of the water on the opposite side. If it dipped below even for a second, the speed and torque would drive the sail deeper downwards and they would go over.
Linus screamed and she grabbed him as tightly as she could, the deck now like a wall below them, anything loose skittering over the surface and down into the churning water, as for several agonizing seconds, the boat glided on its side in a terrifying, perfectly held balance – the sail flat on the water, the men straining as they arched back as far as they possibly could.
And then, suddenly, it gave. The men won out and the boat crashed back down onto both keels, making Bell cry out again. She had known this was going to happen, something bad. She had felt it coming. But there was still no time for recriminations. The crew were instantly moving again, dispersing and grinding in the jib.
‘Emil!’ Mats hollered over the wind, racing over to Emil at the helm and gripping the column as he tried to balance. Standing in the middle of the boat like this, he was unclipped and vulnerable. ‘Let me take over, man. That was too close. This swell is pretty big now.’
But Emil stayed staring at the horizon, making no move that he had heard.
‘Emil? Did you hear me? Let me take over! I can take it from here!’
Emil glanced at him. ‘No!’
Mats looked aghast. ‘Look, man, fire me when we get back if you want, but this is a technical ride –’
‘I said no! I told my son I would skipper us back, and that’s what I’m going to do!’
‘Dude, it’s because of your son I’m taking over! He’s ten, for chrissakes! Look at him!’
Emil turned around, taking in the expression on Linus’s face. The wonderment and awe of even twenty minutes earlier had gone, and he was now rigid with terror.
Emil’s face went slack, his hands lifting off the helm. ‘Linus!’
Mats moved fast, stepping in and clipping himself on. ‘Go and sit down!’ he yelled, before his eyes widened so that they were more white than brown. ‘Look out!’
He grabbed Emil’s lifejacket, trying to pull him down as he lunged for the floor, but Emil saw nothing but his son’s terror. He didn’t see the boom coming, and it caught him above the left ear. He crumpled like an autumn leaf.
‘Emil!’ Bell screamed, scrabbling on her hands and knees to try to reach him as Mats staggered up again and got a hand to the wheel. He was standing in a wide straddle above Emil’s limp body as he struggled to gain control of the boat. The wind tossed them both about like they were paper bags.
‘Have you got him?’ Mats yelled, checking she had a hand on Emil’s lifejacket before he freed his harness from the steering column. Linus was crying now. Bell tried to drag Emil towards her, out of Mats’ way, but he was out cold and a dead weight. He was unsecured to the boat except by her left hand. One large wave would be enough to wrench him from her grip, free-falling in the boat, overboard . . . She looked up desperately. The crew were leaping across the nets again, in full defence mode as the swell grew. There was no one to help.
‘Look out!’ Mats yelled, and she tightened her grip as hard as she could while a large wave rocked them, the forward momentum pitching the boat – and Emil – forward. She strained to hold on to him, giving a cry as his full body weight was held in place by her one hand – then, in the next instant, the wave passed and the boat rocked back, sliding him straight towards her, limp and inert.
‘Oh my God!’ she gasped, immediately clipping him to their rails and stretching out her legs so that she could lay his head in her lap, to protect him from any further impacts. She checked him for signs of injury. He wasn’t bleeding, that she could see. No open wounds. But he was unconscious again, from a head injury. Oh God. Oh God.
Linus was sobbing.
‘Emil, can you hear me?’ She shook his shoulders. ‘Emil? Wake up. You’ve got to wake up. You hear me? Linus is here. You son needs you.’ She looked across at him. ‘Linus, talk to him. Let him hear your voice. He needs to hear your voice.’
Linus stared down at the unconscious man. ‘Em–’ He stopped. ‘Dad? Can you hear me?’
Emil groaned, his eyes flickering.
Linus gasped. It had worked? He was coming round? ‘Dad!’
‘Emil?’ Bell asked. He looked up at her, clearly stunned. ‘What’s my name, Emil? Tell me my name.’
He hesitated, seconds ticking past as nothing came. Then: ‘. . . Ding-dong.’
It wasn’t supposed to be a joke, clearly, but a laugh escaped her anyway, the relief tangible. ‘Yes, that’s right. Ding-dong Bell.’ What he’d called her that first night together. He remembered that?
Linus was gripping her arm, and she looked into his frightened eyes.
‘Is he going to be okay?’
‘Yes, he’s going to be okay. It’s probably just a concussion.’
‘But –’
She knew what he couldn’t say – that this had to be worse than that. He’d only just emerged from a seven-year coma; he couldn’t sustain another traumatic head injury without devastating consequences, surely?
‘I know, but he’ll be okay,’ she lied; she knew nothing of the sort. ‘He’s only just got you back, Linus. He won’t leave you now.’ She looked at Mats’ back, seeing the strain in his shoulders as he struggled against the wind. It was beginning to rain now, the deck becoming slippery. ‘How long?’ she called over to him.
Mats turned, seeing the patient dazed on the ground. He shrugged, helpless to do more. ‘An hour?’
An hour before he could see a doctor. She looked down at Emil – his head in her lap, staring back at her with a bewildered blankness – and tried to smile.
Chapter Twenty-One
The helicopter had well and truly destroyed what remained of the flowerbeds, the gardener given no time again to deploy his defensive measures. Bell watched as he went round the garden, muttering to himself while he stooped to stake the heavier-headed blooms, sweeping up the petals bellowing around like confetti. She thought it looked rather pretty.
She turned away from the window and back into the hall, her eyes returning to the closed bedroom door. They had been in there for at least forty minutes now. What could be taking so long?
She sank into the beige gingham settle and pulled the towel closer round her shoulders. She kept shivering, the chill having set into her bones. She knew she should run to her room and get out of these wet clothes – and yet she couldn’t leave, not even for a minute, in case they came out with word on how he was doing.
Linus was in his bedroom at the far end of the corridor. His door was open, and she could see his legs as he lay on the bed, the little red Corvette car beside him. Poor child; he had fallen into an exhausted sleep, the rough journey back depleting him on top of the afternoon’s emotional stresses. She didn’t think she would ever forget the look on his face as Emil had been carried off the boat – limp and helpless again, everything he’d been trying to prove he wasn’t – and taken to shore in the dinghy, where the paramedics were waiting with a stretcher. Mats had managed to get a call through to the coast guard, who had contacted Måns, who in turn had contacted Doctor Sorensen and arranged for the helicopter to bring her straight here to assess him.
