‘Excuse me, sir? Free yacht trip?’ The man in front of me was wearing a navy polo shirt adorned with a red log ‘WLY’. He gestured towards a yacht.
‘What’s the catch?’
‘No catch. It’s the launch of Webster’s Luxury Yachts. We’ve different-sized yachts available to hire for holidays and private functions. Today we’re giving people a taste by offering a trip to the island over there. We’ll bring you back later. There’s a couple of spaces left on the yacht leaving right now. It’s a beauty. There’s forty passengers on board and several crew.’
‘Anna?’
‘I’m so comfortable here.’
‘But we wanted to go to the island. I’ve never been on a yacht. It will be an experience we won’t forget.’
‘Okay.’ Anna reached for her sarong. ‘It had better be unforgettable.’
The yacht was larger than it looked from the land. On its shiny white side, Maria was painted in curling letters. The guests lounged on padded seats, and women in bikinis and sunglasses tilted their faces towards the sky, the breeze styling their hair. There was a small pool on board, not large enough to properly swim in but sizeable enough. A waiter offered us drinks from a silver tray – champagne for me, orange juice for Anna – telling us the pool could be covered at night to form a dance floor.
‘I could get used to this.’ I raised my glass and toasted. ‘To us.’
‘The three of us,’ Anna grinned. ‘Shall we go for a wander?’ We made our way down some stairs. The doors to the cabins were open for us to explore.
‘A double bed.’ I sat on it and bounced up and down.
‘What were you expecting? Bunks?’
‘Kind of. Josh would kill to see this.’
‘It’s not quite worth dying for,’ Anna said.
We carried on exploring. There was a bar with squashy sofas and a flat-screen TV. Music pumping from discreetly positioned Sonos speakers. Something loud with a thumping base.
‘Want to sit?’
‘No, let’s get some air,’ Anna said. On the deck she took deep breaths. I wondered if she had morning sickness. I guided her forwards until we were standing at the pointy bit of the yacht. The front. I put down our glasses before stretching Anna’s arms out to the side, circling her waist before I sang that Celine Dion song from Titanic.
‘Idiot.’ She rested her head back on my shoulder. The wind whipping her hair around my face – she still smelled of coconut. I slid my left hand to her stomach. Flat for now, but according to google there would be a bump there in the next few weeks. I had never been happier. I knew this trip would be unforgettable.
‘I love you.’ I kissed her neck.
‘I love you too.’
She stumbled as the yacht suddenly lurched to one side. Her free hand grabbed the railing. ‘What was that?’
‘Dunno.’ I cast my eyes around. No one else looked concerned.
‘Hope we don’t break down,’ she said.
‘We won’t. The yacht will go on. You know what else will go on?’
‘Your heart?’
‘Yep. Because every night—’
A judder.
Shouting.
Two waiters pelting across the deck, trading Spanish words I couldn’t understand. One loosening his bow tie as he ran.
‘Adam?’
‘It’s nothing.’ But I was beginning to think it was something.
Suddenly an alarm, a shrill beeping sound that pressed down on us from all sides.
‘Adam, the boat is tipping.’
We watched in alarm as our glasses slowly slid across the wooden deck before they toppled into the sea.
‘Come on.’ I took her hand. Not that a disaster was about to happen – I could see land in two different directions – but something wasn’t right. I would have felt happier if Anna was wearing a life jacket. I would have felt safer if she was wrapped entirely in cotton wool for the next nine months.
The yacht careened violently. Anna crashed to her knees. ‘Adam?’ She was panicking now. I could hear it in her voice. All around us was noise. The smashing of glasses, champagne spilling onto the deck, the beeping of the alarm. Yelling, harried words in Spanish, the crew hurtling in all directions.
‘It’s okay.’ I helped her up.
‘We’re fucking sinking!’ someone bellowed and instantly a child began wailing.
It was too much, the crying, the shouting, the incessant alarm.
Think, Adam.
‘I’ll be back in a second.’
‘Don’t leave me.’ Anna was crying now. I rushed towards one of the catering staff and grabbed his arm.
‘My wife, she can’t swim. Life jacket?’
He garbled an answer in Spanish. His eyes wide.
‘Where’s the fucking lifeboat?’ A woman screamed. ‘We’re going to die!’
I wanted to tell her to shut up. That we were so close to both islands that no one was going to die, but above the cacophony of sound I could hear Anna calling me. I hastily made my way back to her but the boat was now at more of an angle and I lost my footing and crashed onto my side, pain shooting through my hip. ‘Stay where you are,’ I shouted, raising my head, knowing Anna would try to reach me. I needed her to keep holding on to the railings. I needed to know that she was safe.
I crawled. My hands slapping against the water that flooded the deck. The yacht slowly tilting; if it carried on it would eventually be on its side. I reached Anna.
She crouched down, clinging on to the railings, hyperventilating.
Next to her a teenage boy swept his smartphone around. ‘This is so fucking cool. My channel will get so many hits.’
It was all too much. They needed to shut the alarm off. The beeping was adding to the panic.
The swoosh of a flare. Its red tail cutting through the blue sky.
I heard a splash. Someone had jumped overboard and was swimming towards the shore.
Each time the yacht shifted in the water the waves hit harder and harder. Salt water mixed with the fear in my throat.
Possessions were sliding around the deck. At my feet a teddy bear, a yellow ribbon tied around his neck.
‘Any last words.’ The boy shoved his phone in Anna’s face, filming her despair.
‘Go fuck yourself.’ I knocked the mobile from his hand.
The people who had jumped had the right idea. We were going down fast, too fast.
‘What… what are we going to do?’ Anna could barely speak though her sobs.
‘We’re not far from shore. We can swim,’ I shouted over the alarm.
‘But I can’t—’
‘But I can. I’ve got you.’ There didn’t seem to be any sort of plan. We were closer to the island we had left. I could make it, even with Anna.
I was certain.
‘Come on.’ I scrambled over the railing; the yacht was now at such an acute angle there wasn’t much of a drop. ‘Anna?’ I held out my hand. ‘Jump.’
‘I can’t.’ She placed both hands over her stomach.
It was on me to protect her. My wife. My son or daughter. The thought was both exhilarating and terrifying. The love I felt, primal. I would get us out of this. I would.
‘You can. I’ve got you.’ I wouldn’t let her fall, either of them. I was Samson-strong.
‘I can’t… Adam…’
The alarm beep-beep-beeped in time with my heart, which was now in my mouth. What was I going to do if she refused to jump?
‘Anna, please,’ I said evenly as my feet kicked below the surface, the proverbial swan. I stretched out my arms. ‘Trust me? Please, Star. For me.’
She put one leg over the railing, hesitated.
‘I’m so scared,’ she whispered.
‘I know, but I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.’
Slowly, tentatively, she climbed until she was on the other side of the railing. There was another lurch.
She screamed.
Slipped.
Fell into the water w
ith a loud splash. She disappeared under a wave. I dove beneath the surface and could see her sinking. Deeper and deeper. I swam like I’d never swam before until she was in my arms. They were both in my arms. My wife and child. She struggled. Kicking her legs frantically, dragging us both down again. I broke through the surface. Again and again I fought for us to break free.
‘Anna! Stop struggling!’ I shouted as we burst into sunlight once more. ‘Relax. Relax your body. I promise you, you’re safe. Star. Relax.’ Suddenly she became limp.
Other passengers were swimming past us now but I kept a steady pace. The island we had left a short time ago didn’t look too far away but it was an age before we reached the shallows, where we stood and stumbled, hand in hand, flopping onto the sand.
My chest was on fire. Each breath hurt. It was an effort to speak.
‘Are you okay?’ I asked her. ‘We need to get you checked out. You and the baby.’ Even on dry land I was horribly worried about them and it occurred to me that I always would be. As a father and a husband, I should be.
‘I’m okay, but… but Adam…’ She covered her face with her hands and I wrapped my arms around her. Held her as she cried.
‘Shh,’ I soothed. Over her shoulder I could see a small lifeboat crammed with people heading back to shore but there was still a person clinging to the railings of the yacht. Were they a swimmer? An adult? In my mind I saw that teddy bear, fur sodden with sea water, hopeful yellow ribbon tied around his neck.
‘I have to go back.’
‘Adam! No!’ Anna clutched my arm.
‘There’s still somebody on board. Say they can’t swim? Think how scared you were, Anna.’
‘Please don’t!’ Her fingers dug into my wrist. ‘It isn’t your responsibility.’
‘Anna, there were children on board.’
My eyes held hers until she loosened her grip on my wrist and nodded. ‘Be careful.’
I kissed her hard. ‘I love you, Star.’ And then I was running back into the sea. Swimming back towards the yacht.
But I was tired. My legs aching. Body slow.
I counted the strokes in my head. Slowly. Methodically. I was about halfway and the urge to rest was immense but Anna was back on the beach, alone and scared, and my arms continued slicing through the water, my legs kicking hard.
Back at the yacht I reached the stray passenger. It was an elderly woman on her knees, desperately clutching the railing.
‘Jump,’ I called.
‘I can’t swim.’ Her voice was paper-thin.
‘It’s okay. I’m a strong swimmer.’ But the adrenaline that had surged through my veins was leaching into the salty water. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep going.
I was tired.
So tired.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Anna
Despite the sun blasting out heat, I was shivering. My teeth chattering together. My legs precarious, too unstable to support me.
Adam.
I was on my knees, too weak to stand, shielding my eyes from the brightness bouncing off the waves. Adam was nearly at the yacht. Other swimmers were close behind him, also trying to help. Tourists, the guy from behind the bar, the girl who was flipping burgers on the barbecue. The man who had thrust the leaflet about the yacht trip into Adam’s hand was standing, watching. I glared at him. Blaming him.
There was a rubber-band ball of ‘what if’ in my chest growing larger with every passing second. The elastic tightening, making it harder to breathe.
Adam.
He made it. A small, bobbing dot in the sea. He was talking to someone – I couldn’t quite make out if it was a man or a woman, an adult or, as Adam had feared, a child, but they were not moving. They didn’t know him like I did. They didn’t trust him.
He had only been gone a short while but it felt like forever.
Please, I urged, not sure if I was willing the person to get into the water or Adam to turn around and come back. Both, I think.
Please.
But they didn’t move. The yacht shifted dramatically. Almost completely on its side. I couldn’t bear to watch but I couldn’t turn away from it either.
No. Please. No.
The elastic-band ball inside of my chest had exploded when I saw, with horror, what was happening. Short, sharp, snaps to my heart.
The steel pole in the centre of the yacht was falling, falling directly onto Adam.
I screamed his name.
My roar was so deep, so painful, I was sure my baby must have heard it. Felt it. I covered my mouth with my hands as the pole hit Adam.
He disappeared under the water.
I couldn’t breathe while I waited for him to resurface.
He didn’t.
My boy from the bar was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Adam
There was a blow to my skull. The taste of blood in my mouth. Colours bright and dull. Light and dark. A kaleidoscope of pain.
Water, in my mouth and eyes.
Water, in my nose and ears.
My arms and legs flailed. I was sinking deeper and deeper. Dizzy. Disorientated. My lungs burning, chest tight.
The water morphed from blue to grey to almost black. I was spinning. Twisting in the sea, everything about to explode. My skull. My rib cage. Body burning.
Anna.
I tried to swim but I felt so odd.
Couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t force my legs to kick their way to the surface.
I was sinking. Heavy. A mass of pain and regret and fear.
I was drowning but, rather than my life flashing before me, there was only one thought in my head.
Anna.
I was heavy and light and here but not.
Drifting. Drifting. My arms and legs splayed.
I was weightless.
A feeling of calm washed over me.
And then I felt nothing at all.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Anna
Adam.
I couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not when our future was at last bright and glittering with all the things we had dreamed of.
Adam.
How could I ever have thought that I didn’t want him anymore?
I did.
Oh, how I did.
The other swimmers had reached the yacht and were diving under, resurfacing without him.
Adam.
The beach had lost its colour. Its noise. Holidaymakers static and silent, staring out to sea like mannequins.
‘He’s got him!’ someone shouted. Adam’s head surfaced and a sob clawed up my throat.
‘Bring him back,’ I screamed, beckoning with both hands, quickly, quickly.
I paced.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Turn.
A tiger in a cage. Coiled. Ready to spring the second they reached shallower water. Ready to shower my husband with love and kisses.
At last they were closer but Adam didn’t stand. Instead he was dragged onto the sand and dropped heavily.
Adam.
I fell to my knees beside him. Shaking him. Wake up. Wake up.
‘He’s not breathing!’ Frantically I scanned the crowd. The horrified expressions. The camera phones. Why wasn’t anyone helping?
‘Please.’ I shook Adam again, crying harder. ‘Someone.’
‘Let me see.’ A woman kneeled opposite me, her fingers scooping the inside of Adam’s mouth, before checking his neck for a pulse.
‘Adam. He’s called Adam.’ It was important that she knew but she didn’t answer. Instead, she breathed into his mouth – the mouth that had kissed me goodbye. She linked her hands and pushed hard on his chest.
How can his heart have given up when it was so full of love for me? For our unborn child.
His face was pale. The sand, once golden, was stained crimson by the blood trickling from a wound on his head.
I waited for him to gasp, the way they do in the movies. For water
to spew from his beautiful lips.
It didn’t.
Adam.
Please don’t leave me.
Part Three
‘Giving up isn’t an option.’
JOSH QUIGLEY – ADAM’S BEST FRIEND
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Anna
The smell of hospitals was the same wherever you were in the world. Abrasive and clinical; disinfectant mingled with bleach, sorrow tinged with fear.
Adam hadn’t woken up.
I tightly clutched the itchy grey blanket that had been draped around my shoulders, wishing it were my husband’s hand that I was holding. I half ran to keep up with the trolley as it was wheeled down a corridor, bright with harsh, fluorescent light. Doctors and nurses blocked my view as they poked and prodded him, chattering away in a language I couldn’t understand. They could have been saying Adam had no chance of survival, they could have been discussing last night’s TV, what they’d be eating for dinner. I had no way of knowing.
I had never felt more scared.
‘Where are you taking him?’ I asked again. ‘Why isn’t he waking up?’
Again, my questions went unanswered.
The trolley burst through double doors with a clatter, its wheels squeaking on lino. I tried to follow it but a pretty nurse, with a swinging high ponytail, caught my elbow.
‘Please.’ I attempted to break free, but her grip was firm.
‘English?’
I nodded.
‘You come.’
‘But Adam—’
‘He looked after. We check you okay.’
I didn’t need somebody to tell me I was okay. I wasn’t. I was falling and breaking apart. I hovered outside the room Adam had been taken into, second-guessing what was going on inside, but my medical knowledge was limited to watching Casualty on a Saturday night. My grasp of Spanish non-existent.
A woman hurried past me, a tormented expression on her face, a baby in her arms. Immediately I laid my palm gently on my stomach.
‘I… I’m pregnant,’ I told the nurse.
‘Come.’ Her voice softer. I let her lead me away.
My eyes, throat and ears had been peered into; a blood pressure monitor wrapped tightly around my arm. My temperature had been taken. I’d had a scan. Been offered tea, coffee and a plate of fish and vegetables that had made my stomach roil. My body was clad in borrowed scrubs, too short and too tight but at least they were dry. I had been offered everything except the one thing I really wanted: assurances that my husband would be okay.
The Life We Almost Had Page 11
