“A few weeks ago, she split up with this woman, and I thought, maybe. Maybe she would be interested in me. But she told me she was in love with someone else, and I thought I had lost her again. This trip has been magical. Up to the last two days, anyway. But the reason it’s been so magical is because I finally found out that the woman I love cares about me too. That she loves me too. She never said it. She didn’t have to. It was in every touch, every look. Every time we kissed, she showed me exactly how she felt about me. And I have never been happier.
“Then I was an idiot. I got scared and let petty-minded, ignorant bigots influence me. I let their pettiness open a crack to my own insecurities. I let every one of them play out in my head until I was sure that the only option I had was to make you leave me, that it was the only responsible thing to do for Rosie. That it was inevitable anyway, and that I was saving us both a lot of heartache down the road. I made myself believe that I was doing the right thing for all of us. Genna, I know I was wrong. I was so wrong. I know I hurt you. I said those things to make you angry at me so that you would go away, but I didn’t mean a single word. You have to believe me, Genna. I love you.”
She strokes Rosie’s hair while I talk. I want to take hold of her hand and kiss it. I want her to reach out and pull me into a hug. I need something from her.
“Are you finished?”
“Yes.”
I’ve never seen her so despondent. She’s totally emotionless. And it’s scaring the shit out of me.
“Good. I haven’t slept very well for a couple of days. Can you wake me up if anything happens?”
“I will, Genna,” Rosie says and snuggles even closer into Genna’s side.
“Thanks, Rosie.”
She closes her eyes and rests her cheek on top of Rosie’s head. I can’t tell if she’s actually asleep or not, but it’s obvious that she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore. It’s obvious that I’ve driven her away. Completely. I thought I felt devastation when she walked out of the cabin two days ago. That wasn’t even close. Sitting beside the woman I love with all my heart, I’ve never felt so alone.
CHAPTER 29
GENNA
My shoulder’s being shaken, causing my head to rock back and forth.
“Genna, wake up.”
“What is it, Rosie?”
“There’s a man from the restaurant here. He’s got some ’formation.”
I smile, open my eyes, and look up at the Indian waiter who served us burgers on several occasions.
“Madam, the ship is safe. There was a fire in the engine room, and the power has been cut off. We are awaiting a rescue vessel, but we are in no immediate danger.”
“Well, that’s good to know.”
“Most guests are gathering around the pool to stay cool.”
“What about food and water?”
“What is usable is being brought to the upper decks for distribution.”
“Can we go inside?”
“If you wish. It is very hot inside, and the smell of the smoke is not good.”
“Are there any torches?”
“Torches?”
“Flashlights. So we can see in there.”
“Ah, yes, but they are mostly being used by members of staff.”
“I see. Thank you.” I smile, and he moves to the next people. “Where’s your mum?”
“She went to the loo.”
“Okay. When she gets back, should we go and get something to eat, maybe have a swim in the pool?”
“Yay.” She grabs hold of my hand and squeezes tightly. “Genna, I gots somefink very ’portant I need to talk to you about.”
“Okay, what is it?”
“You can’t leave us again.”
She looks up at me with those big brown eyes. Chocolate brown and bottomless and cute with those little glasses perched on her nose. How can I say no? I don’t want to say no. I want to be with them. I want to love them. Both of them. But it still hurts. I mean, how could it not hurt with the things Abi said? I can’t hurt like that again.
“Genna, please say that you won’t leave me again.”
“Rosie, you know I love you, right?”
“Yes.”
“I will always love you.”
“Promise?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
Abi’s walking towards us as I hold Rosie to my chest.
“Hi.” She looks so unsure. Her eyes are so sad. Is that because of me?
“Hi.”
“Mum, you missed the man with the ’formation. Now we’re going to swim.”
“What? Everything seems stable. What’s going on?”
“The power’s out, but the ship isn’t going to sink. People are gathering at the pool to stay cool, and they’re serving food and water there. We don’t have to swim for our lives. Don’t worry.”
“I wasn’t worried.”
“’Course not.”
“Mum, I’m hot. I want to go swim.”
“Come on, then, pipsqueak.” I drag myself up off the floor and take Rosie’s hand. Abi trails behind us. I’m not sure, but I think she’s fighting back tears. That could be wishful thinking, but right now I’m going to go with that.
The pool deck is packed. I mean, absolutely stuffed to the rafters. Chairs have been dragged out of the restaurants, bars, and I think the casino too and placed on every available inch of the deck. Every sunshade on board is there, but they aren’t enough. Towels are being tied to railings and propped over the back of higher chairs. Kids and old people are sitting under them. The few that aren’t in the pool, anyway. There’s standing room only in the swimming pool. I’ve never seen that before. Never. And it’s hotter here than the deck where we’d been before. Too many bodies cramped together in far too small a space. The smell of sweat, suntan cream, and chlorine are all I can pick out. It isn’t pleasant. We need a plan. Rosie’s a great kid, but crowds are something she hates. They make her fidgety and restless. And a restless Rosie is a pain in the arse. Today, that would mean a pain in my arse, and my nerves are stretched far too thin at the moment.
I strip Rosie down to her underwear and decide the shorts and T-shirt that I’ve worn for days will only benefit from going in the pool, so we head in together. Abi sits on the hot deck beside the pool with Rosie’s Dora the Explorer bag beside her and my backpack on her lap. She looks like she’s sniffing it. I could be wrong, though. Maybe she’s wiping her nose on it. I don’t care. I mean, she was the one who dumped me.
She also apologised and told me what she was scared of and that she really does love me and that she wants to be with me.
Sometimes I hate that voice in my head. I look over at her. She’s trying to wipe her eyes without anyone noticing, but the tears are there.
Okay, here’s my issue. Abi has told me two versions of the “truth.” The one where she’s loved me for years and the one where I was a handy holiday fuck. I want to believe that version one is the real truth, but I’m scared, and it’s easier to believe that version two is. I could tell you that I have reasons for being able to believe the bad stuff so much easier than the good stuff, especially when you’ve got three words like “not good enough” flying around your head all the time: Dad left when I was a kid, so I struggled to feel worthy of anyone loving me. Ruth treating me like shit reinforced this, and now I don’t think I’m worth loving. All true, but—and it is a big but—I have always had people around me who loved me, totally and unconditionally. My mum, brother, Gran, Claire, cousins. I wasn’t one of the popular kids in school, but I wasn’t really bullied or lonely. Sure, some kids said horrible stuff, but so did I. I’ve had a good life.
Realistically, there is no reason why I find it so much easier to believe the negative. There really isn’t. I mean, I have a lot going for me. I’ve got family and friends who rallied round to support me when I needed them. A couple of phone calls was all it took to have a dozen people at my side when I faced the press. That’s got to be worth something, righ
t? I’m not butt-ugly. Don’t look at me like that, I’m not full of myself. I know I’m not a supermodel, but hell, I don’t exactly crack mirrors when I walk past either. The woman at the fat farm said I don’t have a significant weight issue. Shocked the shit out of me when she said it, but she did say it. I marked the date and time on my calendar for posterity. I should be able to take what she’s saying at face value. So why can’t I? What is it that’s holding me back? What’s stopping me from jumping out of this tepid water and pulling her into a big hug, telling her I love her and finding the first opportunity to rip her clothes off?
Fear? Of what? Rejection? She’s already done that.
Of being vulnerable? Of opening myself up and letting her in? Haven’t I already done that? She knows I love her. She knows I want her.
And it’s not like I’m the only one out there on a limb. I mean she spilled her guts. Told me how she was jealous when I was with Ruth, how she’s loved me for years. Wanted me for years, but didn’t think I wanted her. That’s opening up. That’s showing vulnerability.
My head’s spinning. I can’t think about this anymore. I need to think about something else. Just for a few minutes. The water in the pool isn’t circulating. How can it, with no power across the ship? I start to realise what that actually means in the modern age of sailing. So here’s my list.
No steering, so we are adrift. In waters renowned for pirates, real ones with machine guns and speedboats. We have no radios to call for help or coordinate a rescue. No air conditioning, hence why we’re all outside frying. No fridges or freezers, so food is going to get scarce, and fast. No cookers, which won’t be an issue when we run out of food anyway. The cranes for the lifeboats won’t work, so if we do start sinking, we’re fucked. The anchor is powered, so we can’t stop the ship. And the pièce de résistance: none of the toilets flush now. The inside of the ship is already starting to smell like a cesspool, and we’ve only been without power for a couple of hours. There are over a thousand people on this boat. All round, I think we can safely say that we are sitting ducks. Helpless. Vulnerable. Basically fucked.
Twenty minutes standing shoulder to shoulder with a couple of hundred-plus people in a swimming pool meant for maybe fifty is all I can take. I towel Rosie off and stick a sun hat on her head, with strict instructions to keep it on, and drink the whole bottle of water that I pull out of my backpack. I might add that this bottle of water is one of the dinky 250ml ones that they stock in the minifridges. The damn temperature has to be over a hundred degrees already. A waiter comes round with a platter of sandwiches, and we all grab a couple.
“I’m thinking that maybe we should grab some drinks and a few bites and go back to our cabin. If we close the door behind us and open the patio door, we’ll be no worse off than we are here. I’ll use some sheets to make a sunshade, and then we’ll be away from the crowd.”
“But it stinks down there.” Abi wrinkles her nose but doesn’t look at me.
“If we’re on the patio, it shouldn’t really be any worse than here. We won’t be able to use the loo, but maybe we can figure out another plan. A bucket or something.” Gross, I know, but needs must as the devil rides. Gran Bow says that.
Rosie’s munching on her sandwich and a bag of minipretzels. I stuff one in my mouth too, satisfied that I have a working plan to get on with, when I taste a fishy undertone to the supposed ham sandwich I’d picked off the plate. I smell it before pulling the bread apart at the distinct aroma of seafood. Prawns to be exact. Ham and prawns. Kind of a surf and turf thing gone slightly awry.
“Abi, don’t eat the—”
Too late. She’s swallowing her first bite and I know what’s going to happen.
“That didn’t taste like ham.”
The panic’s rising in me already. We’re over a hundred miles from a hospital, and she’s allergic to seafood. Like, major allergic.
“Prawns. Abi, have you got your EpiPen with you?”
“It’s in the cabin.”
Her eyes are already wide, and her breathing’s already started to become a wheeze. She has her hand at her throat as if she’s trying to dig out the damn prawn. I try to visualise where on the ship the sickbay is and if it would be faster to get her there or to run to our cabin, get her EpiPen, and then run back. She’s sweating, and the skin on her face and neck is covered in red blotches. There’s no time.
I slide my arm under her knees and one behind her back and lift.
Fuck me, this is not easy!
“Rosie, follow me.”
I’m definitely going to sickbay. I’m going to need a new spine after this.
“Rosie, get the torch off that man.”
She steals one from the waiter, who isn’t looking, and opens the door for me. I nearly fall down the steps. Twice. My thighs are burning by the time I make it down the three flights of stairs and halfway across the ship. And Abi was right. It does stink. Like an open sewer. Her lips are starting to turn blue, and her arms are going limp around my neck.
“Stay with me, Abi. Don’t pass out. We’re nearly there.”
She puts her head against mine, her lips so close to my ear I can feel them move as she whispers, “I love you.”
Then the movement of her breath against my skin stops, and her arms fall from my shoulders. I can feel her slipping away. Her back isn’t moving like it did when she tried to pull air into her lungs. Her eyes are closed, and her head tips backwards, stretching her neck as if it’s going to break. Her arms flop with each step I take. She looks dead.
“No!”
I will not lose her like this. I will not give up. I will not let her die. I can’t. I need her. I need to tell her that I forgive her. I need to say that I’m sorry for making her suffer, and that I’m an idiot, and that I love her with everything that there is in me. That I will love her until the day I die, and that she can’t leave me. Not like this.
I don’t know how, but I run. Carrying Abi, I run the last forty feet to the sickbay, kick open the door, and launch myself inside. The nursing staff are milling about, treating small cuts, a few burns, and twisted ankles and stuff. I find an empty bed and head for it.
“I need some help here. She’s allergic to seafood, and there was a hidden prawn in her sandwich.”
The doctor takes her pulse. “I’ve got nothing. She’s arrested.” Nurses start hooking up monitors and wires all over her body while the doctor opens her mouth and tries to look down her throat. “Airway is totally obstructed. How long ago did she eat it?”
“About two minutes. Maybe three.”
“I need a tracheotomy kit.”
I pull Rosie to me and hold her head against my tummy and watch as he pulls on gloves and rips open the prepacked tools. “Charge the defibrillator. I want that rhythm back.”
He’s fast, he’s calm, and more importantly he’s capable. He cuts into the hollow of her throat and pushes the tube in, connects it to a resuscitation bag, and one of the nurses starts pumping air into Abi’s lungs. One breath, two, three.
“Clear,” the doctor says.
Everyone steps back as he applies the paddles to the pads pressed against Abi’s bare chest. He presses the button and Abi’s body contorts off the bed. The monitor blips as the nurse continues pumping air into her lungs.
The monitor traces only a long flat monotonous line. The single continuous beep drills into my skull.
Please don’t leave me, Abi. I love you.
“Charge the paddles again.”
I will love you for the rest of my life. Please don’t leave me.
“Clear.”
He pushes the button, and her body jumps and twitches again.
My eyes are fixed on the monitor as it blips. Then I wait.
In my mind, I see Abi the first time I met her. Heavily pregnant and yelling at Uncle Kev. Her eyes burning with righteous fire as she told him that Rosie would be born with Down Syndrome and that she didn’t want her child to have anything to do with him if he couldn’t accept t
hat. I see her holding a newborn Rosie, kissing her little fingers, grinning at me the first time she let me hold Rosie. Day trips to the zoo. Films we watched together. Bottles of wine we shared. Days when Rosie was sick. Laughter, conversations, tears. We’d been a family all those years without even realising it. How stupid can you get?
I see it all in the space of a heartbeat.
The space of her heartbeat.
When her eyes open, she’s looking straight at me. I can’t stop the tears. I don’t want to.
She reaches a hand out towards me, and nothing on Earth would have kept me from going to her. I bring her hand to my lips and kiss her fingers.
“You scared the shit out of me.”
She moves her lips, trying to talk.
“Don’t talk. You’ve got a tube in your throat.”
She puts her hand to my cheek and stares up at me. I can see the questions in her eyes. I place a little kiss on her forehead and whisper into her ear.
“I love you. Don’t ever do that to me again.”
Just My Luck Page 23
