Читать книгу For The Love Of Sara - Christopher Lee - Страница 13

CHAPTER 8

He woke early and thought about going for his early morning swim, but then thought better of it. She might be there. As crazy as it was, he was frightened of seeing her.

When Jill got up she made no mention of the previous night’s events. She showered and dressed while Grant made tea and set the table on the patio for breakfast. It was as he was munching through a plate of cornflakes and reading a guide book when there was a knock on the door. It was barely eight o’clock.

He padded across the tiled floor to open the door. He just knew it was going to be Sara standing there demanding to know why he hadn’t gone for a swim. Instead it was the twins from the hotel, a couple of fair-haired 13 year-olds, identical in every way, even down to the braces on their teeth.

“Hello is Emma coming out for a swim?” asked one.

“We arranged it last night,” said the other.

“I don’t think she’s even awake,” replied Grant. “Hang on, I’ll go and check.” He peeped in to the bedroom. Emma was dead to the world. He went back to the twins. “I’m sorry, she’s still asleep,” he said. “I will tell her you called.”

“Tell her we’ll be in the big pool,” said one, then turning in unison, as if they were Siamese twins, they marched off.

“Who was at the door?” asked Jill emerging from the bathroom.

“Just some friends of Emma,” said Grant going back to the patio to finish his coffee.

“What did they want?” asked Jill, drying her hair with a towel.

“Apparently they had arranged to go for an early swim,” said Grant, “but she’s still asleep.”

He picked up the guide book. “There’s an interesting monastery up in the mountains that might be worth a look,” said Grant. “What do you think?”

Just then the bedroom door opened as Emma appeared.

“What time is it?” she yawned.

“Just gone eight,” said her dad. “The twins knocked for you.”

“Oh no, I forgot. We were supposed to be going swimming.”

“They said they’d be in the big pool,” said Grant. “You’ve only just missed them.”

“Mum, where are my swimming things?” she asked.

“On the patio where you left them,” said Jill.

The teenager scooped up the striped swimsuit and a towel.

“You haven’t had any breakfast yet,” said Jill.

“That’s OK said the teenager. “Dad always says you shouldn’t swim on a full stomach, right dad? I’ll have some when I get back. Bye.”

Minutes later Grant watched her skipping across to the pool. She knew he would be watching her because she turned, waved and ran off.

She came back just before ten. The other children were all up except Sally who was still snoring. Grant was reading a Shaun Hutson paperback he had bought at the airport.

“Dad,” said Emma.

“Yes love,” he said not looking up, engrossed in a particularly gory piece of prose.

“Dad, would it be okay if Sara came out with us today?” His concentration was immediately broken at the mention of her name. He looked up. There standing behind his daughter was Sara dressed in a bright pink and green one piece swimming costume with a towel wrapped around her head like a turban. She didn’t speak, just fixed him with those dazzling green eyes.

“Her mum’s not feeling too good and they can’t go out so I thought she could come with us. She can, can’t she?”

“Of course she can,” interjected Jill before Grant had a chance to reply.

“We’re doing a bit of site seeing then going to a beach. She’s welcomed to join us, isn’t she Grant?”

“Well, I suppose so,” stuttered Grant, “if it’s okay with her mum and dad.”

“I haven’t got a dad,” Sara said sharply. “He’s dead.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Grant apologetically. “I didn’t know.”

“Why would you,” said Sara. “I’ll just tell mum.”

There were three rows of seats in the car. Emma and Sara sat in the middle row, three other children sat in the back. Sara sat behind Grant which made him feel distinctly uneasy.

They took the road to Ciudadela then the main drag to Mahon. Monte Toro is twenty kilometres from the capital, near the old market town of Mercadel. They could make out the monastery roofline bristling with aerials and radar dishes. The four kilometre climb by road to the top makes it the highest point on Menorca. From the car park at the summit, visitors can see the entire coastline, to Cala Fornells in the north. The air was much cooler and the corridors of the old building felt chilly. The younger children ran off to explore, but Emma and Sara stayed with Grant and Jill.

“What happened to your father, Sara?” asked Jill.

“Jill,” interrupted Grant. “He was killed in a car crash last year,” said Sara.

Grant looked at her and thought how terribly lonely and vulnerable she looked. Gone was the precocious teenager and in her place was a frightened child. Grant put his arm around her and gently squeezed her shoulder. She looked up into his confused brown eyes. Their gaze was locked for a second, which seemed like eternity and in that moment in time, time itself stood still. He didn’t know what to say so he said nothing. Instead he released her and they walked on, making their way up the white cobbled stones.

Emma and Sara went to the gift shop while Grant and Jill went inside the chapel. Jill lit a candle and sat on a pew facing the altar. Emma came in and sat next to them.

“Where’s Sara?” asked Jill in a hushed voice.

“She won’t come in,” replied Emma.

“What do you mean she won’t come in?” Jill repeated.

“She says she hates churches and will never go in one. She’s a bit weird.”

“Never mind, Emma,” said Grant, hugging his daughter, “each to their own.”

They left the chapel and found Sara sitting by the well, drinking cool fresh water from the spout. She wore grey leggings which ended just below the knee and a baggy white Greenpeace T-shirt with a picture of a whale on the front. On her feet she had a pair of Reebok trainers – no socks.

“Is it safe to drink the water?” asked Emma. “The monks have been drinking it for centuries and they’re all right,” said Sara.

They found the other children playing a game of chase around the huge statute of Christ built to commemorate the Civil War. They stopped at a café and ate Menorquina ice cream.

“Where to now?” asked Tim.

“I know a nice beach,” said Sara. “It’s just north of here. We went the other day and hired a pedalo.”

“Pedalos are for kids,” chirped Ben, “have they got any jet skis?”

Grant handed Sara a map and she pointed out the location. The spot in question was on the north coast at Cala Tirane. Access was on an unmade road past barren fields enclosed by dry stone walls which had been battered over the years by the Tramontane – a vicious northerly wind which had torn away the topsoil of the former olive groves.

There were very few cars in the make-shift car park. The children scrambled out of the car and headed for the water. Jill and Grant unloaded the bags containing a picnic Jill had prepared.

Sara had been right about the pedalos. A sun-baked old Spaniard sat on a rickety deck-chair jealously guarding three gaily painted pedalos drawn up on the beach near his feet. Tim and Sally didn’t fancy it, so Emma and Sara sat in the front with Grant and Ben in the back, but Ben was insistent that he wanted to have a go at pedalling.

“That’s okay Ben,” said Sara, “You swap with me and I’ll go in the back with your dad.”

They exchanged places. Grant was enjoying the sea air as they set off, what he was not enjoying was the close proximity of Sara who now had her left leg pressed against his right thigh. There wasn’t much room in the back so nowhere to shift position. Grant tried to ignore it. He told himself that maybe it was his imagination, but after that sub-aquatic kiss, well…

“Head towards those rocks,” instructed Sara leaning forward between Emma and Ben. As she bent forward her left breast rested on the back of Grant’s hand which, in turn rested on his thigh. He could feel the heat of her body burning his knuckles. He daren’t move it. She sat back and the problem was resolved.

“I saw some caves out by the point,” said Sara. “It’s a great place to swim, loads of fish around the rocks.”

“The current looks a bit tricky,” said Grant. There was a clear channel of water flowing swiftly out to sea, like a rip.

“No it’s not too bad,” Sara lied, “I have swum there before.”

Ben and Emma stopped pedalling and allowed the craft to drift towards the rocks.

“Look, I can see the caves,” said Ben excitedly. “Can we get out and have a look?”

“If we can find a mooring,” said Grant. “Pedal towards that flat rock over there.”

Grant struggled to get the craft sufficiently out of the water so as not to float away. It was heavier than he had first thought. He finally managed it and sat exhausted on the rock beside it.

Ben was already clambering towards the cave with the two girls in hot pursuit.

Grant stood up to follow.

“It comes to a dead end,” shouted Ben. “No pirate treasure here.”

“Maybe if we go to the other side of the point,” said Emma.

“Yes, but we might not find anywhere for the boat,” said Grant.

“I’ll swim round and take a look,” said Sara.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” said Grant. “Perhaps we should go back.”

“Come on, don’t be a spoilsport,” laughed Sara and with that she plunged into the water. Grant waited for her to break surface, but there was no sign of her.

“Where is she dad?” asked Ben. Grant began to panic. He knew she was a good swimmer, but…

“There she is,” said Emma, pointing to her friend, now about thirty yards away.

“Look she’s waving,” said Ben, waving back. “What’s she saying?”

They couldn’t make it out, but then she disappeared under the water again.

Alarm bells gave a deafening ring in Grant’s head.

“She’s in trouble,” he said. “I’m going after her. You two stay here.” He launched himself into the water heading towards the spot he had last seen her. He could feel the current pulling him out towards the open channel. He saw her surface again, still thirty yards away being dragged out further. He swam faster and faster breathing only every ten strokes. He felt a surge of strength despite the burning in his chest. The current was running at its strongest now taking them both around the headland. Sara saw Grant coming towards her as she clung to the last reserves of her strength. Then it gave out and she slipped beneath the waves.

Grant dived and kicked hard. He kicked again towards her lifeless body as it floated five feet under the water. His arms clawed the water away as he propelled himself towards her limp form. Then he was upon her. His hands grabbed either side of her rib cage and he pulled her up towards the surface. He gasped for air as he came up. His left hand cupped her under the chin while he clawed at the water kicking towards the rocks. He couldn’t tell if she was breathing, but he knew her only chance was if he could get her back to the rocks. He kicked until his legs felt like lead weights and for a moment thought neither of them was going to make it, but then the heel of his foot hit a rock. He scrambled up and pulled her from the water. She wasn’t breathing. He arched her head backwards, clearing her airways, then, kneeling over her put a finger in her mouth to make sure she had not swallowed any seaweed. It was clear. Pinching her nose and holding her chin back he placed his mouth over hers and breathed hard. Her body contracted in a spasm and she wrenched spewing a mixture of seawater and puke over Grant. She coughed and spewed again.

“God I thought you were dead,” he gasped. “I thought you had drowned.”

She stopped coughing and pushed herself up to a sitting position. She looked like a drowned kitten.

“Nearly had it that time,” she said, “but still, I knew you’d save me.”

It was then the truth dawned on him.

“What! You did this on purpose. Are you mad? Are you completely bloody mad? We could have both drowned!”

His anger boiled over like a rolling broth.

“Is this some silly bloody game, Sara? Is that what it is? Well I’ll tell you now young lady, stop fucking with my life.”

That was it. He’d said his piece. He’d got it all out and he felt purged.

She sat there not saying a word, looking at him forlornly, not capable of understanding his wrath, wondering what she had done that was so terribly wrong. All she wanted was his attention, his affection. All she wanted was for him to care for her a little, love her a little. A tear rolled down her cheek and she sniffled. He knelt down beside her and put his hand on her shoulder.

“Are you okay?” he said, his voice now tender. She flung herself to him and hugged him, her golden brown arms wrapped around his back.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered.

For the first time since her father had died she felt safe, but these were not the arms of her father, she knew that.

“Come on, we must get back to the children,” he said quietly. “They’ll be worried sick. Can you walk or do you need me to carry you.”

“You Tarzan, me Jane,” she coughed, wiping the tears from her eyes. “No, I’m okay. I just need a drink. I’ve got this horrible taste in my mouth.”

He pulled her to her feet. The climb back was tricky, but they were soon reunited with Emma and Ben.

“Are you okay, Sara?” Emma asked her friend. “You look awful.”

“I swallowed a load of water and your dad had to save me.”

“Did he give you the kiss of life?” asked Ben dramatically. “You know, like on Baywatch?”

“He sure did,” said Sara. “I was about to join the mermaids.”

Grant’s dream flashed into his mind, had it been some weird premonition.

“Come on, we’ve got to get the pedalo back or Pedro will charge us a fortune.”

“He shouldn’t be called Pedro, his name should be Pedalo,” joked Ben and they all laughed.

When they got back to the beach Ben was out of the boat running to be the first to tell the others of the rescue. By the time the others had got back to Jill, Ben had told everyone the story.

“You poor thing,” said Jill motherly. “Do you think you should see a doctor?”

Sara knelt down on the picnic blanket. “No I’ll be fine, I just need a drink.” Jill handed her a can of coke which she swigged.

“How did it happen, Grant?” asked Jill in a tone of admonishment. “I thought you were supposed to be looking after them.”

“She got caught in a rip tide off the point,” said Grant.

Sara took the can away and wiped her lips.

“He saved my life,” she said looking at Jill. “It was my own silly fault.”

She turned to Grant and looked into his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said, then burst into tears. Jill moved forward and put her arms around her.

“There, there, love, you’re okay now.”

The tears continued to flow, her eyes puffed up, her cheeks turned red.

“Please don’t tell my mum, she’ll go mad. Please don’t tell her.”

“Okay,” comforted Jill. Sally handed Sara a handkerchief to dry her eyes.

“You should have seen dad,” said Ben wanting to tell the story again. “He dived in and saved her, just like Baywatch.”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” said Grant. “The sooner we forget about this the better.”

The rest of the day was spent sunbathing. Sara didn’t go in the water again, neither did Grant. Jill had a game of volleyball with the children, but Grant and Sara just sat and watched, neither saying a word.

When they arrived back Grant wondered if he should say something to Sara’s mum, but decided against it. Grant parked the car and the children got out. Sara was last.

“Thank you for taking me out today,” she said turning to Jill. “I’m sorry I caused so much trouble.”

Jill touched her arm in a motherly gesture. “Don’t be silly, it was just an accident.”

Sara turned to Grant who was biting the inside of his lip wondering whether or not it had been.

“Are you all going to the disco tonight?” asked Sara.

“Not tonight,” answered Grant.

“Are you going for an early morning swim tomorrow?” she persisted.

“I think I’ve done enough swimming to last a fortnight,” he said.

Her shoulders slumped. “Well, I’ll see you around them,” she said and walked slowly back towards the apartment.

“You were a bit abrupt with her,” said Jill returning from the back of the car where she had been unloading their things.

“I don’t know about her,” he said taking two bags from his wife. “I just think she’s trouble.”

When Sara got back to her apartment it was empty. There was a note from her mother on the table.

“Dear Sara, we didn’t know what time you would be back so Alan and I have gone out for dinner. There’s some money on your bedside table for a pizza or something. Don’t wait up. Mum.”

Sara didn’t want to eat. She went straight to bed.