by Demelza Hart
At last I dared blink my eyes open. For a moment, in the confusion and haze, I thought I was back in the Maldives. There was fine white sand, palm trees, the gentle slapping of water on the shore. I tried to make sense of it. Had I dreamt it all? Had I ever got on the plane?
I tried to push myself up but a searing pain shot through my side and my right arm. I cried out as brightness flashed behind my eyes and I slumped back into the sand.
‘Don’t try to move too quickly. You’re all right, but you’ve bashed yerself up good and proper.’
I knew that voice. Where had I heard it before?
‘I want to … I want to turn over,’ I stuttered.
‘Alright. We’ll try. Easy does it.’ Hands, reassuring in their strength but calming in their tenderness, eased me over. Pain again. Acute, throbbing pain. I sucked in with the agony of it and squeezed my eyes shut. But I was over, on my back. I blinked open my eyes.
Perhaps I was in Heaven after all, because the Archangel Michael was staring down at me. Hewn face, thick hair, blue eyes, strong neck supported by broad shoulders. It was a face and body that could slay any dragon.
‘There we go. Take it easy. It’s possible you’ve cracked a rib, but I reckon you’re just bruised. You’ve got off lightly, believe me.’
‘Am I alive?’ I felt a bit drunk. I still couldn’t sort the mash-up of confusion in my throbbing head.
The angel smiled. ‘Yeah, you are. You and me. We made it.’
I looked at him more steadily. ‘I know you. Big Bag Man.’
He smiled again. ‘That’s the one.’
‘Did you … was it you …? My seatbelt. I couldn’t undo it … Did you …?’
‘The fuselage sheared off right in front of us. Managed to get to you just in time. Nearly lost you. I swam in with you. Took a while. We were a long way out.’
I looked up at him. His head blocked out the sun but it shone around him, giving him an ethereal glow.
‘You’re my angel.’
‘Nah. Just lucky enough to get my hands on you. Not so lucky with the rest.’ His voice grew solemn.
It was all coming back. The plane. The crash. I glanced about. We were on a shore somewhere; palm trees, sand, a hill behind us, rocky outcrops. But it was quiet. Where were the others?
‘Where is everyone?’
He came and sat beside me, and stared out to sea but said nothing. My heart started to pound. ‘But … the plane was full … we survived … where are the others? There will be others. There must be others.’
He shook his head slowly. ‘Nobody else has come ashore alive. Not that I can tell anyway. I’ve …’
His voice trailed off again and he glanced over to a wooded area far to the right.
‘What?’
‘I’ve pulled ashore those I could.’
‘Those you could?’ My mouth grew even drier.
‘Six so far.’
‘D … dead?’
He nodded, looking back out to sea.
‘I’ve buried them under branches. I’ll try to dig a trench later. Keep them safe until we’re rescued.’
‘But … we can’t be the only ones … we can’t be.’ My mind was numb.
‘Crazy, isn’t it? But that’s what it seems. The fuselage cracked right where we were sat so we could escape. That must’ve protected us from the impact too. We just … dunno … got lucky. I tried to get to some others, but …’ He fell silent for a moment, then looked up again. ‘There don’t seem to be no more islands round here. Hopefully some others came ashore elsewhere, but it’s not a big island, and I haven’t heard anything.’
‘But where are we? An island? What if they don’t find us? What if they never find us?’
‘There’s a lot of wreckage floatin’ out there, and we can’t have been far off the flight path. They’ll know roughly where we went down even if some of the instruments failed. I’ve already spelt out SOS with rocks over there, and I’ll get a fire goin’ in a minute. They’ll spot the smoke. Luckily, some of the catering trolleys washed up. We’ve got a fair bit of food and drink to keep us goin’. Blankets, seat cushions. And I reckon they’ll reach us in a few days. We’ll be fine.’
‘Fine?’ I wasn’t convinced.
He turned and looked at me, a mixture of resignation and curiosity on his face, before holding out his hand.
‘You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid. Better do this proper. I’m Paul. Paul Mason.’
‘Callie Frobisher.’ I shook his hand, acutely aware that his were the hands that had saved me.
‘Callie? What sort of a name is that?’ he asked with a faint sniff of amusement.
At any other time I would have given him a ticking off for his rudeness, but I didn’t have it in me. ‘It’s short for Caroline. I hate the name Caroline. Callie, I can live with.’
‘Why were you travelling?’
‘I was returning from my holiday. Oh God!’ Panic stabbed at my chest. ‘My parents! They’ll be so worried. They’ll be desperate, devastated. Oh God. They’ll hear about the crash. I need to get back, I need to let them know!’ I scrabbled to my feet, but pain sheared through me again and I stumbled back, falling against Paul slightly. I rolled off him and started to sob uncontrollably.
‘There’s nowt you can do. It’s alright. They’ll have a day or so of uncertainty, but then they’ll see you and know you’re all right. Don’t let yourself get stressed. You’ve been through it. Best not to get more upset.’
He was right. I tried to stem the tears and turned to look at him. ‘What about you? Have you got family to worry about you?’
‘Aye. My dad. But he didn’t know I were over here working so he’ll be none the wiser.’
‘Working?’
‘I’m a building contractor now. I was working on that new hotel.’
I knew the one he meant. An elegant, five-star luxury palace I’d seen under construction along the coast from where I’d stayed. ‘You said now. What did you do before?’
He paused briefly before answering. ‘Army.’
‘Really? Did you see active service?’
‘Aye.’ Paul stood up at that point. ‘Best see about getting that fire going. It’ll get dark quickly.’
I stared after him. His strong legs took him quickly over to one of the washed up containers. He seemed to know what he was doing, gathering wood and brush. Soon enough a fire crackled into life. It was reassuring to have someone with survival training. I picked myself up gingerly, careful not to exacerbate my injuries, and walked over.
‘Anything I can do to help?’
He glanced up. ‘You’d best rest to make sure you don’t hurt yourself more, but you can try to spread some of those blankets around and over the branches if you like. Won’t do much good if the rains come in again, but it looks like the storm that brought the plane down has passed.’
The blankets had already dried in the sun but were sticky from sea water. I did my best to drape them around and soon made a den amongst the trees near the beach. I laid some more blankets on the ground. It was all very Swallows and Amazons. Wasn’t this what I’d dreamt of as a child? The reality was a little different. That sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach made me suddenly nauseous and I stumbled out, clutching my side as pain asserted itself. I retched violently into the undergrowth.
‘You OK?’ Paul called over.
I turned and nodded vaguely. ‘Sorry. Things are just catching up with me.’
He was coming over with a bottle of water. ‘They will. It’ll get worse, you know. You’re in a sort of shock, but if you can keep going, that would be best. Don’t exert yourself, but try to take your mind off it. Here, drink up.’
He held out the bottle and I drank gratefully. The cooling water seemed to settle my mind as well as my gut. I smiled up at him. He smiled back and the shine from his blue eyes immediately soothed me.
‘There’s a load of food. Pretty crap, but it’ll keep us full. I’ll bring some over. I like your little ’ouse
.’ He grinned at my pathetic efforts.
‘Pretty shoddy, I’m afraid. Terence Conran would not approve.’
‘Who?’ I wasn’t sure if he was feigning ignorance to play up to me. He gave a chuckle. ‘I’ll go and get the food.’
Paul soon returned with bread rolls, cheese, pate, mini puddings, and oranges. It was all tiny portions, but, after much tearing of plastic wrappers, we had a feast in front of us. He sat beside me and offered a beer.
‘Do you think it’s OK to drink alcohol?’ I asked.
‘Do you fancy it?’
‘I do, strangely.’
‘Well, go on then. A little of what you fancy does you good.’
I fancy you, I thought. Would you do me good?
We clinked cans. ‘To survival,’ he said.
I gave a weak smile and repeated his words. ‘To survival.’ I sipped; he glugged. He opened another one quickly. The sun was setting fast and the beach glowed golden around us.
‘Mustn’t let the fire go out,’ he mused.
‘No. No sign of rescue yet.’
‘Don’t fret. They’ll be here soon enough.’
We sat in silence for a while, staring out at the silvery sea as the moon brightened.
‘How strange,’ I said.
‘What?’
‘This. Everything. I can’t believe it. Can you?’
‘Have to. It’s happened and there it is.’
‘This morning I was in an airport set to return to the grey monotony of London … and now this.’
‘Aye …’ It was said with a deep sigh. Even the way he said ‘aye’ made me want him. ‘You got a job to go back to?’
‘I’m on holiday for the summer. I’m a teacher.’
‘Oh, right. What d’you teach?’
‘History.’
‘Oh aye? I did history A-Level.’
‘Did you?’
I must have sounded surprised. Paul smirked. ‘What? You can’t believe I’d do A-Levels? There is a brain lurking somewhere inside this crusty, northern exterior.’
‘I didn’t mean that,’ I quickly corrected. ‘I just didn’t put you down as the history sort. Physics or maths, maybe.’
‘Yeah, well, you’re half right. I did physics and design technology, too.’
‘Interesting combination. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. What was your favourite period to study?’
‘I liked learning about the wars and conflicts. And medieval history, too. The Plantagenets. Edward III. Pretty canny fella.’
I laughed.
‘What?’
‘Here I am stranded on a desert island discussing Edward III with an ex-army builder.’
He smiled softly at me, causing my belly to flip, before turning to throw a pebble in the sand and sighing. ‘Didn’t amount to nowt though.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Never got to take the exams, despite doing most of the work for them. My ma had been ill for several years, cancer. My dad couldn’t cope. When I were younger I spent a year in care while he dealt with things as best he could. When I were older, she seemed to get a little better, responded well to treatment, and I came back. Then she took a turn for the worse and Dad had to stop working to look after her. He’d never agreed with me studying. I hoped to go to university, do engineering, but he made me quit school in the Upper Sixth and go to work. My ma put up a good protest – she wanted me to carry on, but …’ He shrugged. ‘We needed the money. And folk like me didn’t go to university. My dad was a miner, my ma a cleaner. I just walked out of my class one day, never went back. I got a good job for a local building firm. Did very well, learnt my trade, supported my family.’
‘And your mother?’
He stared ahead and threw another stone. ‘Lasted another year. I lost her twelve year ago next month.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
He looked over at me and studied me intently. I felt myself growing pink.
‘When you say that, you sound like you really mean it,’ he said.
I smiled softly. ‘I do. I lost my aunt, who I adored, very early to cancer.’
He shrugged resignedly. ‘Everyone’s affected by it.’
‘And for everyone it’s hell and it’s unfair and horrific.’
He looked steadily at me. ‘Aye, it is. That’s when I needed out. Joined the army.’
‘Which regiment?’
He smirked. ‘That important to you?’
‘No, I’m just curious.’
‘Started out with the Yorkshire Regiment, then moved onto Special Air Service.’
I looked at him blankly.
‘The SAS,’ he added.
‘Oh. Right.’ I was impressed into silence.
My appreciation of his survival skills grew, and, although I hated the immediacy with which it happened, so did my attraction.
‘What about you then, Callie Frobisher?’ he asked.
‘What about me?’
‘Why d’you talk so posh?’
‘Is that your first impression? That I’m posh?’
He shrugged.
‘Why do I talk like this?’ I continued. ‘I don’t know. Parents. School. Friends.’
‘Do all your friends sound like you?’
‘Yes, I suppose they do.’ I blushed, suddenly ashamed of it.
‘Where’d you go to school? Cheltenham Ladies’ College or something like that?’
I laughed. ‘No. My school was much lowlier. But … it was fee-paying.’
‘Fee-paying? Rich people’s school, y’mean?’
I resented his immediate prejudice. ‘I didn’t choose it. I just went where I was put.’
‘And I bet you don’t teach in your local comprehensive now neither.’
More embarrassment. ‘No.’
‘Another “fee-paying school”?’
‘Yes. But I work very hard. I’m always taking work home with me.’
‘And getting nice long holidays in the Maldives.’
His assumptions, which hit closer to the mark than I cared to admit, raised my temper. ‘Oh, don’t give me the old “long holidays” crap. Anyway, this one wasn’t from my teacher’s salary, which is very modest. It was a present, a reward for working hard in the year.’
‘The Bank of Mummy and Daddy?’
I bristled. ‘Don’t judge me! You know nothing about me. My parents worked hard for their wealth and I’ll work hard for mine. I know I’m lucky and I don’t expect these things, but it takes all kinds in this world, you know.’ I stood up, indignant.
He put his hands up in resignation. ‘I’m sorry. Can never resist a bit of class banter. I don’t mean nothing by it. Just like finding out about people. Come on, sit down.’
Paul held his hand out to me to draw me down again. After a sigh, I took it and sank down next to him. My side panged and I sucked in.
‘Careful.’
I turned to him. ‘Didn’t you get hurt at all?’
‘Sore ankle. Cut leg. Nothing too bad. Someone was looking out for me.’
I laughed, then winced. My arm had been hurting for an age, but I’d tried to ignore it.
‘What?’
‘My arm.’ I touched it and a fierce pain raced through it.
‘Let’s have a look.’
He took hold of the sleeve of my shirt, and only then I noticed it was stained pink with blood. He lifted it with the tenderness of a brood hen. I made the mistake of looking into his eyes. Our tiff was instantly forgotten. After a searing moment where our gazes met and my belly somersaulted, he turned back to examine my arm.
‘Nice gash you got there.’
I glanced down and winced. I had an angry cut about three inches long running along my arm. It was still seeping blood a little. ‘You may need it stitching when we’re back, but we can bind it for now. Hold on.’
He stood and jogged nimbly over to some wreckage. After scrabbling about for a while he returned with a bandage. ‘Y’see,’ he grinned. ‘We’ve got all we need.
First aid kit intact.’
Paul cleaned the wound with some saline then worked concertedly and skilfully to bind my arm. ‘It’ll have to be tight, I’m afraid.’
His fingers were warm and assured and, as they grazed my skin, I felt an unstoppable surge of desire flaming inside me. He was so close and so hard and firm. My head swam and I was unable to take my eyes off him.
He finished by tying off the bandage and smiling at me. ‘There you go. Good as new.’ He didn’t move his hands away, and stayed still, holding my arm tenderly yet firmly.
I held his gaze and smiled back. He was right there, strong and sure. Would it be so bad to just … But how mad this was. All of it. I averted my gaze.
Paul drew in a breath suddenly and turned out to look at the sea. ‘Not a bad spot really, is it? I mean, if you’re gonna be the sole survivors of an air crash, there’re worse places to end up.’
My stomach dropped with disappointment.
The moment was lost. Probably for the best. This was crazy. I couldn’t enter into some mad relationship on a desert island with someone I barely knew. Someone with whom I had nothing in common. Someone who was entirely wrong for me. Just because we were stuck together didn’t mean we should do anything. And there was Rupert. I was going back to Rupert, after all. I’d already made my decision.
I focused instead on my food and took a bite of roll. It filled a gap, at least. We ate on quietly for a while.
‘You should sleep. It’ll help you.’
I was suddenly aware of being bone-achingly tired. ‘Yes, I’m utterly shattered. I’ll … umm …’ I looked vaguely at the shelter.
‘You sleep in there. I’ll be alright out on the beach. I want to keep a lookout for a while longer, see if I spot anything. And I’d like to keep the fire going.’
‘OK. I’ll just … umm …’ I pointed vaguely behind some trees. I needed the loo. I must have done that involuntary lean to the side that gave it away.
Paul chuckled. ‘Find yourself a spot behind a tree and dig a little hole. Cover it in sand. Easy. Happens to us all, you know.’
‘Right … I … yes.’ I padded off, my face flushed, his gorgeous smirk bright in my mind.
When I returned he had moved back to the fire and sat with a stick, looking into the flames. His skin glowed golden and his eyes shone.
