Survive

by Tom Bale

  Or so she believes. But is it enough for Sam?

  ‘What do you think of Gabby?’ she asks.

  He makes a face. ‘Do we have to talk about her?’

  ‘Thought it’d get you in the mood.’ She squeezes him, playfully, but he winces.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Oh, come on. You must have checked her out.’

  ‘Not really.’

  Her snort of disbelief resembles a whale expelling water from its blowhole. And now she can’t decide whether to laugh or cry.

  Oh, Jody, only you would choose a moment like this to liken yourself to a bloody whale.

  Slowly, over the course of several weeks, Sam has come to understand that there’s something bothering Jody. At times he’s wondered if she knows – or at least suspects – what it is he’s hiding from her. He prays she doesn’t.

  No, he thinks. She’d confront him straight away. She’s a lot braver than he is.

  They make love again. They’re pretty sure the kids won’t wake up but still it affects them. They move together and find a rhythm that’s slow and intense but makes no sound. The silence adds something to the experience, makes it seem holy, almost, though Sam has no idea why he thinks that. He’s not religious; never goes to church apart from weddings and christenings; a couple of funerals.

  Jody is first to fall asleep. She issues a tiny snore, and he smiles, realising that they’ve already had a fortnight’s worth of sex in one day. He takes this as a good sign.

  It’s only when he’s drifting off to sleep that he recalls what he should have queried with Gabby at the welcome meeting. When they got off the plane, the air had been completely still. So how come they had to land differently because of the wind?

  8

  The next day is like a rebirth. Cooled and calmed by the whirr of the air conditioning, they sleep heavily for more than eight hours. It is, by a long margin, the best night’s sleep Jody and Sam have had since becoming parents.

  By seven a.m. they’re dressed and ready to explore. This time they go further afield, checking out the whole complex on a meandering path towards the beach.

  At the shore they discover that theirs is the middle of three hotels, each with its own section of private beach, complete with a bar and dozens of sunbeds. They’re close to the eastern boundary, where an armed guard is wandering back and forth on the boardwalk that runs between the beach and the hotel gardens. He has a gun, holstered on his hip like a cowboy. An identical guard patrols the western boundary. Recalling how Gabby assured them that the island is completely safe, Jody wonders if they were told the whole story.

  They steer Dylan on to the beach before he notices the gun. He and Grace need no excuse to go dashing down towards the water. Sam and Jody slowly follow, holding hands.

  ‘Isn’t it lovely?’ she says.

  ‘Perfect,’ Sam agrees.

  The beach is mostly sand, with patches where large rocks are showing through. The sea is a beguiling shade of turquoise, flat and calm as far as the eye can see. The sound of it slurping against the shore is practically the only thing she can hear, although far out towards the horizon a couple of speedboats are darting back and forth. Jody remembers the accident mentioned at the welcome meeting: drink and drugs, a violent collision. How terrible for such a tragedy to happen in a place as beautiful as this.

  She shivers, and Sam gives her a look. ‘Okay?’

  Jody nods, reminded of that weird saying her mum uses, about someone walking over your grave.

  Strolling back, they find the hotel coming slowly to life. Not many guests about, but plenty of maintenance staff in grey boiler suits, silent as ghosts. The gardens are being watered and the warm wet smell coming from the concrete transports Sam to a moment in his childhood. He can’t remember the exact circumstances but he knows it was the school holidays and he was stupidly happy; dawdling along a pavement after the rain, sweets in his pocket and no one on his case...

  He smiles. Memories like this are what he and Jody want for the kids. Little nuggets of sheer joy to carry into adulthood.

  Machines have been set to work in the swimming pools, droning noisily as they clean the water. There’s a radio playing somewhere, a news bulletin with a man ranting and bawling. The words are more like grunts and growls than any language you could understand, though when he pauses a crowd starts cheering as if it makes perfect sense.

  Sturdy middle-aged women in pink tunics are starting on the rooms, pushing carts full of cleaning equipment. One or two nod in greeting; others won’t meet their eye. At the main pool they spot a sleepy-haired man tucking towels around a group of sunbeds.

  Sam laughs out loud. ‘People really do that?’

  ‘Oh yeah. Even when there are loads of places spare. The Germans are supposed to be famous for it.’

  ‘He looked English to me,’ Sam says, and Jody gives him a sideways glance: And you’re the expert, how?

  They enter the restaurant with a little more confidence and choose the same table they had the night before, then go to inspect what’s on offer for breakfast. Bread seems very popular here; bread and cake, biscuits and pastries. And people say the Brits are unhealthy, Sam thinks.

  He’s tempted by the idea of a full English, but the bacon’s not cooked the way he likes it (burnt to a crisp) and the scrambled eggs look pale and watery. Instead he takes what he thinks is an omelette, as well as a couple of croissants dusted with icing sugar. Jody steers the kids towards the fruit, encouraging them to sample some peaches and pears.

  It’s not as busy as last night, but still reminds Sam of a school canteen. A couple of times he has to rein in his temper when someone barges in front of him. It makes him think of the fights that used to start in the queue for lunch, when he was mocked for being eligible for free school meals.

  Once they’re eating it’s all fine again, talking about how to fill the coming day. They’d noticed a stack of kayaks and pedalos on the beach, and the resort offers a host of water-based activities – paragliding, banana rides and so on – though these, unfortunately, aren’t part of the all-inclusive deal.

  He gets up to fetch a second cup of tea and maybe some toast. The kitchen staff are gliding back and forth, already such a familiar sight that Sam barely notices them. But one waiter catches his eye, perhaps because his face is as smooth and pink as a child’s. He’s moving quickly, balancing a tray loaded with glass tumblers for the fruit juice.

  Crossing the centre of the serving area, he lifts the tray to shoulder height, neatly side-stepping a small boy with a brimming bowl of cereal. But he hasn’t noticed the milk that’s dripping from the kid’s bowl. His foot slides out on the tiled floor and he tries to keep his balance but it’s hopeless. Sam watches the accident in what feels like slow motion, the tray leaving the man’s hand and taking on a life of its own, tipping up and over, the glasses stacked four deep and lined up in rows, sliding like deckchairs on a sinking ship and then falling, falling…

  The noise when they strike the tiled floor could be a bomb going off. The whole room comes to a halt, even as the waiter himself lands with a hard slap on his arse. Cries of shock and alarm as many of the glasses shatter, sending fragments in all directions. Others stay in one piece, spinning like props in a fancy magic trick.

  The waiter isn’t badly hurt, but tears come to his eyes as he stares at the chaos. Some of the guests are shaking their head in sympathy; others are grinning, reaching for their phones to take pictures. There are urgent shouts from the kitchen and the head waiter who seated them the previous night comes striding out, followed by a couple of men in chef’s whites. They’re all gabbling away in their own language, and Sam can tell it’s not a happy discussion.

  For a second, the senior guy seems to forget where he is. He hauls the waiter up and starts yelling in his face. One of the chefs mutters a warning and the mood changes at once, the head waiter nodding apologetically to the guests, urging them to continue their meals. More staff race in with cloths and brooms and ru
bbish sacks. The young waiter is hustled away.

  Back at the table, Jody tuts. ‘That poor boy. I wonder if breakages are deducted from their wages.’

  Sam shrugs. Judging by the look on his boss’s face, that’s the least of the guy’s worries.

  9

  Jody didn’t actually see the incident – only the aftermath – but the sound of the glasses breaking sent a bolt of panic through her body. She immediately thought of the question at the meeting the yesterday, about the threat of terrorism.

  She makes a deliberate effort to shrug off the fear, but she’s aware of a nervous undercurrent in the room, like the subliminal buzz of a TV on standby. Sam seems really unsettled, though he does his best to act normally.

  It’s with a sense of relief that they hurry back to the room to get sorted and then head for the beach. They’re early enough to take their pick of sun loungers, and invariably the kids want to be right at the front.

  That’s fine with Jody. After slapping lotion on them all, she has a blissful half hour while the others play in the water. It’s only when they come in for a drink that Jody remembers the kids’ club.

  She checks the time on her phone. ‘It starts in twenty minutes.’

  Sam pulls a face. Dylan is busy digging a channel in the sand. Grace is lying face down on her towel, iPod on, lost to the world.

  ‘Shall we forget it for today?’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Jody has been cherishing the thought of getting some quality time with Sam, but maybe, she thinks now, he isn’t as keen on the idea.

  Then again, he’s right that it seems selfish to palm the kids off on other people when they’re so obviously having a good time. This is a family holiday, after all: the pleasure is in experiencing it together.

  ‘They can go tomorrow.’ Sam frowns. ‘Is that Thursday, or Friday?’

  ‘Thursday. I think. Yes, it’s Wednesday today.’ She laughs. The first full day and they’re already losing track. That must be a good sign.

  The beach bar opens at ten. On the dot, there’s a small crowd gathering to fetch the first beers of the day. Jody can see Sam reacting, and she has to remind him that different rules apply on holiday. ‘Like eating cake for breakfast,’ she says.

  She encourages him to have a beer but he insists on holding off till eleven, as if to prove to himself that he can. When Jody fetches it for him, she throws caution to the wind and tries a rum-based cocktail called a Hurricane, served up by a charming waiter who seems to be giving her the eye. He probably does it to all the women here, but it’s a welcome boost to her confidence just the same.

  The morning passes in a warm and wonderful blur. She and Sam take it in turns to switch off while the other watches Dylan. It’s about as safe as it can be – the beach shelves gradually, and there’s barely any swell – but the boy is often too daring for his own good.

  Grace, as usual, places no demands on their time. She sunbathes, reads, listens to music. She swims a lot, and there’s a touching moment when she encourages her dad to venture into deeper water. Jody remembers how reluctant Sam was when they first went to the beach together in their teens. Now, anxious not to look like a wuss in front of his daughter, he makes a determined effort, and seems to gain in confidence under her instruction.

  They eat a late-morning snack, then go back to the room. Today nobody can sleep, and by two o’clock they’re outside again. Dylan is still hungry, so he and Sam head off to the restaurant while Jody and Grace laze by the pool.

  ‘We’re going to be good,’ Grace has told her dad, and although Jody laughed, it’s left her worrying about the pressures her daughter will face to keep her weight down, the preoccupation with body image and dieting that she and her friends are already exhibiting.

  The pool area is almost deserted, although most of the loungers are draped with towels. Jody finds a vacant umbrella and drags a few spare sunbeds over. Then it’s time to lie back, sunglasses on, eyes shut. She borrows Grace’s iPod and listens to Post Malone, keeping the volume low so as not to miss the tranquil chorus of holiday sounds: the backstroke splash of a lone swimmer, the rhythmic slap of sandals on the baking-hot path, the clink of glasses behind the bar. Jody feels incredibly relaxed and can let herself indulge in memories of the previous night; the way they made love so gently, the erotically charged silence–

  Maybe she’d started dozing, for she jumps as if electrocuted when someone taps her arm.

  ‘Mrs – ah, Miss Lamb. Jody, isn’t it?’

  Jody blinks and half sits up. Gabby the rep is crouching beside the sunbed.

  ‘I’ve got such brilliant news for you,’ she says, and without quite knowing why, Jody’s heart sinks.

  Dylan loads his plate with chips, pasta tubes and meatballs in tomato sauce. Sam has the same, even though he’s not really hungry. He can’t believe how quickly he’s adjusted to this weird new way of life – eating and drinking whenever you want; never having to stop and think about whether you can afford it. If you fancy a snack, you have one. If you want another, you have that too. Feel like trying something different? Well, take a bite and if you don’t like it, put it aside and get something else.

  This is what it means to be rich, he realises. And while it’s a good feeling, it also makes him uneasy. If you can have everything you want, whenever you want, how do you decide what’s too much?

  Dylan has tomato sauce dribbling over his chin. Sam wipes it away with his finger and Dylan, taken by surprise, giggles as he grabs a chip and holds it out like a gun, shooting at his dad. Sam pretends to duck, using a fork to fire back.

  It’s a fun moment, reminding Sam that he shouldn’t take things too seriously, but soon comes another worry. Now the kids have experienced luxury on this scale, what if they start comparing it to the way they live at home?

  Perhaps that’s why he says no to Dylan’s request for more chips. Unafraid, the boy fixes him with an evil glare. If Sam had ever looked at his dad like that he’d have been slapped round the face.

  ‘Dyl, you’re full up. Any more and you’ll burst.’

  ‘Daddy, I want some–’

  ‘Hey, I know – let’s go and see what Mum and Grace are doing.’

  ‘Go in the pool?’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘And then ice cream?’

  ‘We’ll see. But later on, yeah?’

  With peace restored they take a slow walk back, pausing in a shaded area where a small crowd has gathered to watch two Russian men playing table tennis with brutal determination. Sam hoists Dylan on to his shoulders for a better view. It feels good, the weight of him up there, his tiny hands pulling on Sam’s hair.

  He’s proud of the stability he and Jody have given their children. At five years old, Dylan is a real character, bright and cheeky and confident. There’s no reason he won’t do well at school and even go to university one day. Same with Grace, who’s already talking about becoming a scientist. When Sam was her age, he probably wouldn’t have known what the word meant.

  With lunch over, a lot of people have returned to the pool. It isn’t easy to find Jody and Grace among the bodies lying out under the umbrellas. In fact, it’s Gabby he spots first. She’s talking to Jody, who is frowning slightly, one hand hovering by her sunglasses as if she can’t decide whether to take them off.

  Then the rep turns and gives him one of her big beaming smiles. ‘Congratulations!’

  Jody is still frowning and Sam, for a moment, takes offence. Is she taking the piss? Congratulations on having a holiday that’s meant for richer, classier people than you.

  Seeing his confusion, Jody says, ‘We’ve won the competition.’

  ‘That’s right! Your name was picked, so you and your lovely family will get to enjoy a VIP reception at the Hotel Conchis.’ Gabby seems to be melting with excitement on their behalf. ‘Oh my God, guys, just wait till you see it...’

  Sam nods. He doesn’t want to be rude, but the Adriana is like a palace compared to anywhere he’s ever been. How could this
Conchis place be so much better?

  Gabby’s smile fades as she picks up on the tension. She brings an envelope into view and thrusts it forward. ‘Here’s the formal invitation. You just have to be in reception for two p.m. tomorrow. You’ll be collected and brought back, door to door.’

  ‘What time?’ Sam asks.

  Gabby seems thrown by the question. ‘Two o’cl–’

  ‘No, at the end. What time are we back here?’

  ‘Uh, it’s usually a... loose arrangement. If you’re having loads of fun, you can stay late.’

  ‘And if we need to go earlier?’ Jody says. ‘I mean, say the kids get grumpy?’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ Gabby says, nodding. ‘Earlier, later, it’s up to you.’

  10

  Jody has the impression that Gabby is relieved to have offloaded the envelope. The rep hurries away, low heels clicking on the path, attracting a lot of attention from the guests around the pool. When someone wolf-whistles, Gabby strikes a pose, playfully sticking her tongue out at a group of young guys near the bar.

  Sam sits down heavily enough to make the sun lounger creak. Jody can feel him bristling, and suggests to Grace that she might want to take her brother to get a drink.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s good for you – to get some practice.’

  ‘I don’t need practice, Mum. It’s not hard to ask for a drink.’

  ‘Then for Dylan’s sake. Make him feel grown up.’

  Grace sighs dramatically, before leading her brother away.

  ‘Growing up so fast,’ Jody murmurs.

  ‘They’re good kids,’ Sam says. Then: ‘You sound sad.’