by Tom Bale
He snorts. Greedy bastard.
Jody swims a few lengths, and encourages him to do the same. The pool’s not that deep, so he sort of cheats to keep up with her, touching the bottom on tiptoe and springing forward. On the far side, when they swim beneath a footbridge that leads to the bar, Jody stops and they embrace, pressing their bodies close and kissing. All is forgiven, he thinks, and the relief is even sweeter than the kiss.
‘Should have gone to the room,’ he murmurs.
‘Never mind. We’ll have a nap after lunch.’
They dry off, and then it’s time to collect the kids.
Dylan is delighted to see them, although it’s also clear that he has bonded with the girl who took charge of his age group. Sam is listening to Dylan’s breathless description of the morning’s action when Sam recalls what Jody said and makes sure to ask how Grace got on.
‘Bit boring,’ she says, ‘except for archery. I got a bullseye.’
‘That’s brilliant,’ Sam says. ‘Maybe you’ll be in the Olympics one day.’
‘I’m not good enough for that!’
‘If you practice lots, it could happen,’ Jody tells her. ‘We’d better see if there’s somewhere you can go for classes, back at home.’
Grace looks thrilled by the idea, and Sam realises that, if not for this holiday, she’d probably never have dreamt of trying something like archery.
The restaurant is heaving, so they opt for Dylan’s idea of swimming first. On the second attempt, at about ten past one, it’s a little quieter. They have a pleasant meal, though there’s an odd moment when Sam catches a member of the hotel staff looking intently in his direction. It riles Sam a bit: he’s wearing a perfectly good T-shirt, and loads of other people have shorts on. What’s the problem?
Nothing, as it turns out. He’s all but forgotten it when they get up to leave and find Gabby hurrying towards them, looking stressed.
What now? Sam thinks.
Then he sees the envelope.
Jody frowns as the rep almost skids to a halt in front of them.
‘Oh, there you are!’
‘What’s the matter?’ Jody notices the envelope, and thinks: Isn’t that…?
‘The reception, at the Conchis.’ Gabby is gasping for breath.
‘We’re not going. We gave the tickets to someone else.’
‘I know. But you can’t.’ Gabby doesn’t sound cross as much as overwrought. ‘Once you’ve been chosen, it’s your names on the guest list. It’s not transferable.’
‘Why not?’ Sam asks.
‘There are some genuine VIPs there – the president’s son often attends. It won’t go down well if other people turn up in your place.’
Sam snorts, but before he can respond, Gabby says, ‘Luckily there’s still time. The transport isn’t here until two.’
‘Two?’ Jody echoes. ‘Ten minutes isn’t long enough to get ready.’
She glances at Sam, expecting him to agree, but suddenly he’s Mr Chilled Out. ‘Won’t hurt if we’re a bit late, will it?’
‘It’s not ideal, but...’ Gabby shrugs, meaning okay.
Jody feels betrayed by this change in his attitude. He’s only doing it to avoid an argument with Gabby. ‘I thought you didn’t want to go?’
‘I’m not fussed, really. But I thought you wanted to.’
He’s right: hasn’t she been sulking ever since he told her what he’d done? Though now, when it’s been sprung on her, she’s having second thoughts.
Gabby looks on in desperation. ‘Please, guys. I know it might seem a bit... I dunno, intimidating, but you’ll have such an amazing time, you really will. The Conchis is so beautiful.’
Jody is shaking her head, trying to stop the onslaught. ‘But we’ll have to dress up. I’m not sure if we’ve brought anything formal enough...’
‘You’ll be fine in a dress and sandals, like you wore to the welcome meeting.’
Jody’s mood isn’t improved by the way Gabby looks her up and down as she says this. Meanwhile Sam is gazing at her with such an innocent, easy-going expression that for a moment Jody wants to throttle him.
Unlike many of his extended family, Sam isn’t a big believer in fate. All that Everything happens for a reason – it’s bullshit. Life is full of luck and hazards, split-second decisions that can change everything. There’s no grand plan to make sense of it all, as much as people might wish for one.
But right now, this feels near enough to fate, especially as he got nowhere when he looked for a boat trip.
They hurry back to the room, urging the kids on without fully explaining what they’re doing. Sam can’t work out why Jody seems so unhappy, and hardly dares to ask her. He’s unlocking the door when she makes a sucking noise, like a wince.
‘Trevor and Kay…’
‘What about them?’
‘Gabby must have asked for the tickets back. Can you imagine how gutted they’ll be? And now that I know–’ She breaks off, won’t tell him what she was intending to say. ‘There’s no time.’
Grace is first in the bathroom to freshen up. Dylan is told to choose a small toy to take with him. Jody kneels by a chest of drawers, digging through it to find clean outfits for the kids. And for Sam: his chinos and a white linen shirt get tossed over her shoulder and he snatches them out of the air. All the while she’s muttering to herself: things like, ‘Why are we doing this?’ and ‘I must be mad.’
‘Jode, it’s okay.’
‘You’ve changed your tune, now your friend Gabby’s put the pressure on–’
‘Hey! She’s not my friend any more than she’s yours.’
‘I didn’t mean...’ Then she tails off, because it sounds a bit feeble and they both know it.
‘The reason I agreed wasn’t to get Gabby out of trouble. It was because I made a mistake last night. Because of you, being so disappointed when I said we weren’t going.’ Sam forces a grin. ‘Anyway, it’s something a bit different. And it’s free!’
‘Everything’s free here,’ Jody reminds him. ‘And you were dreading it.’
‘Yeah, but finding out now means we haven’t been worrying in the run-up to it.’
‘That may suit you . I could have done with time to prepare.’
‘Fair enough,’ he says, and apologises while she frets over the lack of proper shoes. Sam only brought trainers and a pair of Nike sandals; the sandals will have to do.
She regards the wardrobe in dismay. ‘If this really is some super-posh place, and I’m gonna turn up looking like–’
‘You look beautiful, whatever you wear. I mean it.’
Jody raises one eyebrow – he doesn’t often do this sort of gushy talk – but he can tell it’s had the desired effect.
‘Get a bloody move on, then!’
16
Somehow they all manage to wash and change in less than fifteen minutes, though Jody still can’t quite believe they’re going ahead with it.
Normally Grace would welcome any excuse to dress up like a princess, but she insists on wearing her black pleated skirt and a pink top. A cheerleader outfit, basically, but Jody doesn’t have the strength to argue.
Dylan, in khaki shorts and a polo shirt, looks very presentable, but his eyes are blank and puffy round the edges. What with kids’ club, an hour in the pool and a big meal, he is wiped out.
‘You can have a nap on the bus, okay?’ Jody says.
‘Don’t wannoo!’ he cries, throwing down the small action figure he’s chosen.
Grace makes a sarcastic noise. ‘He’ll probably be sick.’
‘No he won’t.’ Jody sighs. ‘Thanks, Grace.’
They walk the now-familiar route around the pool, trying to maintain a rapid pace without breaking into a sweat. Jody has gone for a knee-length lemon print dress and low-heeled sandals. As well as a small leather bag, she’s carrying a cream cardigan. It’s a smart, slightly demure look; overall she feels reasonably satisfied with her appearance, even while resenting the influence that Gabby had
on it.
Stepping into the air-conditioned lobby, who should they see but the Baxters. Kay registers their presence but won’t meet Jody’s eye. Trevor, meanwhile, is glaring furiously at Sam, as though he’s convinced the whole thing was a set-up, designed to humiliate him.
Sam doesn’t pay much attention to the Baxters. Dylan is getting fractious, so Sam scoops him up and past reception. He finds Gabby waiting on the pavement, tapping at her phone. She almost bursts with gratitude at the sight of them.
‘Oh, well done, guys! Thanks for getting ready so quickly.’
Before Sam can speak, Dylan wriggles and calls out: ‘Max! Max!’
Another family are standing at the kerb, among them the blond boy that Dylan had befriended the previous evening. Sam puts his son down and Dylan dashes over to greet him.
‘That’s the Fischers,’ Gabby says, ‘a German family who also won a place at the reception. I hope you don’t mind but it looks like you’ll be travelling together.’
‘Yeah, okay.’ Sam is assuming they’ll be in a minibus, so it comes as a shock when they hear the distant rumble of an engine, and what rolls into sight is the high square bulk of a Hummer.
Then he gets a side view and discovers it’s a stretch Hummer. He’s seen these before, usually transporting drunken hen parties around Brighton on Friday nights.
He laughs in disbelief. Dylan comes running back, brimming with new-found energy. ‘Dad, are we going in that? Are we?’
‘You sure are,’ Gabby answers for him. ‘It’s VIP all the way!’
Even Jody is smiling, and Grace says, ‘Can we take a picture? I want this on Instagram when we get home!’
‘We’ll take lots of pictures.’ Sam catches Jody’s eye and winks; her nod in response says, Yes, we’ve done the right thing.
The big car pulls into the layby. The driver is wearing a full chauffeur’s uniform. He gets out, greets them with a salute and opens one of the rear doors.
With Jody gesturing for the Fischers to go first, Sam turns to Gabby and says, ‘Sorry about the, er, mix-up.’
‘Don’t worry. All’s well that ends well.’
She looks so pleased he almost thinks she’s going to kiss him. He feels embarrassed, and then a question pops into his head: ‘This president’s son. He doesn’t happen to have a private jet, does he? A G650?’
Now it’s Gabby’s turn to look awkward. ‘Y-yes, he does. Why do you ask?’
Sam shakes his head. ‘No reason.’
To Jody, the inside of the Hummer looks like a nightclub on wheels: rich leather upholstery, deep blue carpeting, strings of multicoloured lights along the ceiling. There are three different sets of seats, so plenty of room for the two families.
The Fischers are probably in their late thirties, not unfriendly but a bit severe-looking. As well as Dylan’s friend, there’s an older boy, perhaps ten or eleven, so engrossed in a game on his iPad that he doesn’t seem to have noticed his surroundings.
There are two TV screens in the back, playing pop videos at low volume. The driver also points out a clever little cabinet, which houses a fridge full of miniature bottles of champagne as well as beer and fruit juice.
‘Oh my God!’ Jody exclaims, and the Fischers nod and smile, sharing the same kind of incredulous delight.
Once they’re moving, the drive is fast and smooth and very quiet – the cabin must be soundproofed, Jody guesses. Drinks are selected, and then they raise their glasses in a toast, suggested by the German father.
‘To the Conchis!’ he says in English, and before the glasses reach their lips, Jody adds, ‘And to us!’
She’s persuaded Sam to try a bucks fizz, and watches with amusement as he swallows, grimaces, takes another sip and grudgingly admits that it’s ‘not bad’.
Savouring the bitter-sweet flavours, the tickling pleasure of the bubbles on her tongue, Jody rests her head back and shuts her eyes. This is the life, eh?
Sam says quietly, ‘D’you reckon Trevor and Kay saw the Hummer?’
‘Probably.’ Jody tuts. ‘I feel so sorry for them.’
‘Even after the looks they gave us?’
‘I pity them. Have you noticed how often they’re just sitting there, not saying a word to each other?’
Sam is silent for so long that she finally gets the joke, and playfully swats him. But then he says, ‘Maybe that’ll be us, one day?’
‘Maybe.’ It’s a scary thought, but Jody’s also touched by the idea that he’s imagining them still together in their fifties, or older. She takes his hand. ‘So we ought to count our blessings.’
The Hummer has two rows of two seats facing inwards, and the narrow side windows are heavily tinted, giving only a dim impression of the passing countryside. What Sam can see of the scenery is nothing special: fields, trees, low hills. The occasional crumbling cottage.
After a second drink, they’re all nicely relaxed. The German couple aren’t saying much, though at one point the man yawns, catches Sam’s eye and says, ‘Siesta!’ Sam grins, then finds he also needs to yawn.
But it’s Dylan and his friend Max who are making a real effort at international relations, sitting tightly together to play some sort of game on a Nintendo Switch. The older brother is similarly glued to his iPad, though he’s also sneaking glances at Grace from time to time. This brings out the protective father in Sam. He sits up straighter, throwing his shoulders out, until Jody realises what’s going on and gives him a little jab with her elbow.
It’s a sort of sad-happy moment. Only a few more years and he’ll have to be on guard against the boys who will come sniffing round his daughter, the way he once did with Jody – not that her parents could have done anything to stop what happened there.
Grace, he reminds himself, before he gets bitter about it. Grace is what happened there. And for all the stress and trouble when the pregnancy was first discovered, Jody’s parents – just like the rest of them – wouldn’t be without their grandchildren now. Not for anything.
Sam goes back to gazing out of the window. Fields growing some sort of vegetable, green leaves resting on dry, pale earth. Between the rows, a farmer leans wearily on a fork as he watches them pass. He’s middle-aged, with grey hair and a hard weathered face. His eyes seem to bore through the tinted glass, and Sam feels a stab of guilt, almost wishing he could explain that it’s not his car, that what they’re doing this afternoon has no connection to the life they normally lead.
I graft for a living, the same as you.
More crops in the next field, but here the leaves look bigger, greener. Either it’s something different or else these are just healthier and more successful for some reason. Sam knows practically nothing about nature: you could take him round a supermarket and he wouldn’t be able to say what grows on trees, what comes out of the ground and what gets cooked up in a factory. It came as a shock the first time he learned that tuna was this great big fish. He’d vaguely assumed it was about the size of the tin it came in.
This part of the island strikes him as very different from their holiday resort. Poorer, more basic. He can imagine the locals living simple lives, digging their own wells for water, maybe using horses to pull a plough. It makes him wonder if the Conchis really will be all that special.
17
They’ve been travelling for nearly an hour when the Hummer makes a right turn and ascends a long steep hill. The terrain here is rocky and barren until the summit, when they pass through a wood of tall pines, growing so densely that they seem to exist in darkness.
Jody hears a gasp. The German woman is sitting at an angle which gives her a view into the driver’s cab, and as such she’s the first to set eyes on the hotel.
The building lies below them, alone in its splendour on a rocky coastline with trees on three sides and a sparkling sea lapping at it on the fourth. The hotel has been designed to resemble an ocean liner, perched on a low cliff as if awaiting the high tide to float it off. Jody counts five storeys, each one a slightly smaller re
plica of the floor beneath. A mast-like tower completes the impression, strung with thick cables that are fixed to railings that encircle a walkway on the upper floor. The frame – she wants to say hull – is painted white, but a good seventy percent of the exterior is made of glass.
The road descends into an olive grove and reaches the hotel grounds, where the Hummer drives beneath a triangular steel sculpture, fashioned to resemble a pair of giant anchors propped together. For some reason it makes Jody think of two lovers sharing a drunken kiss.
They join a line of vehicles pulling up at the entrance to the lobby. The guests are being met by a small army of young men and women in stylish black uniforms. When it’s their turn, Jody finds herself gripping Sam’s hand. She feels absurdly like a bride, arriving at the church on her wedding day.
‘Ready?’ Sam says, and there’s a nervous tremor in his voice because he too is light years out of his comfort zone.
‘Let’s go,’ she says, and then, in a whisper, ‘Thank you.’
‘What for? I gave the tickets away.’
‘But you also persuaded me to take them back.’
The staff member who greets them looks like a young Cillian Murphy. After taking the invitation from Sam, he ushers them into a vast atrium. This is where Sam’s argument is tested first – how can the Conchis manage to be so much more majestic than their own hotel?
Jody wouldn’t have thought it possible, but somehow this place makes the Adriana Beach look like a rundown guest house. It’s something to do with the scale of the place, the height of the atrium, the way the sunlight floods in from every direction, enhanced by subtle artificial lighting and thin, gauzy shades to eliminate glare.
And it’s the interior design. She’s often heard people on TV use phrases like ‘clean lines’ and ‘simple elegance’ but this is the first time she’s witnessed what those things mean in practice. And it’s astounding, unreal – like a movie set enhanced with CGI, though the only special effects here are money, money and more money.
