Page 13 of Someone in the Water

Frankie

I feel hands on my upper arms, dragging me backwards. ‘Hey!’ I call out, stumbling as my feet try to catch up. Jesus, how much have I had to drink? Two cocktails? Four?

‘Come and dance!’ Izzy calls out. ‘I love this song!’

Beyoncé’s ‘Crazy in Love’ is blasting out across the beach.

With a rush of euphoria, I twist out of Izzy’s grasp, then take her hand and together we tumble into the beach bar, a square space with a thatched roof and four pillars in place of walls.

The bar staff have moved all the tables and chairs out onto the sand, turning the main bar area into a makeshift dance floor.

It’s busy with guests, some swaying, others putting in bolder dance moves.

Izzy and I find a spot in the middle and join the fray.

‘Great party!’ I shout, lifting my arms and pumping the air in time with the beat. Almost a month in, this hotel feels like home now, and that’s mainly down to Izzy’s friendship.

‘Yes!’ she calls back, nudging her hip against mine. ‘Who would have guessed that Anna loves the summer solstice enough to put on a party to celebrate?’

‘Or that she was capable of organising it,’ I say, grinning.

The more I’ve got to know Anna, the more accurate Izzy’s description of her has turned out to be.

Pointless. She clearly adores Raphael and hangs off his every word, but I’ve yet to hear her give an opinion of her own.

And even worse, she seems to be equally nervous around her son.

Maybe that’s why Patrick’s always hanging out with his grandparents.

I scan the crowd, looking for the others.

Our whole waterfront team arrived at the party together – after sharing a couple of bottles of rosé in Dom’s room – but Archie and Jack disappeared almost straight away, and now I can’t see Harriet or Dom either.

I wonder for a second if that means anything – the two of them going AWOL at the same time – but dismiss the idea almost instantly.

Harriet has made it clear that she only fancies men who wear signet rings.

And preferably ones with a family crest.

As the music changes to Kelis’ ‘Milkshake’, and we wordlessly adapt our dance style in synch, I feel another wave of gratitude for Izzy. Since our dinner out, our friendship has strengthened, and we’ve confided in each other a lot.

As I’ve talked about Dad getting thinner, quieter, weaker, greyer, until he finally wasn’t there at all anymore, Izzy has told me about the impact of her own father’s much more sudden death.

How the restaurant her parents ran in Nice’s old town never reopened after his fatal car crash, and how her mum, still dealing with her grief five years later, moved north to her hometown of Lille as soon as Izzy finished school.

After finishing her degree at Montpelier University, Izzy didn’t want to live in a part of France she didn’t know, so she travelled a little in southern Europe, and then went to live in London.

She thought she might stay there for good, but she missed the beach.

And that’s how she ended up at Hotel Paoli.

The only subject that Izzy has been muted on is Salvo, and why she thinks he’s worth steering clear of.

She did finally admit that she’d seen him hanging out with a group of dodgy-looking men in the middle of the night, but wouldn’t say any more than that.

It’s not enough evidence to condemn him – not nearly enough – but her warning has still left its mark on me, especially after our unsettling conversation on the beach.

I’m always polite when I see him now, but I keep my distance.

When I think about how far Salvo travelled to pay his final respects to my dad, I feel bad for judging him harshly.

But the fact is, I don’t know him. And neither did Dad really – they hadn’t seen each other since they were teenagers.

And people change. My instinct is to trust Izzy, and Mum has always taught me to trust my instincts.

‘Shall we get another drink?’ Izzy says. ‘Another Long Island iced tea?’

‘Yeah sure, but do you know where Harriet is?’ I ask. ‘She owes me a drink.’

‘She’s waiting by the pool with Dom,’ Izzy says, with an exaggerated booty shake.

‘Waiting for what?’

‘I said I’d get more wine. Then I heard Beyoncé, and saw you, and well, here we are.’

I burst into laughter, more raucous than Izzy’s answer deserves, another clue to my drunkenness. ‘They are going to be so mad with you!’

Izzy winks. ‘Harriet is constantly mad with me. Dom is too desperate to be liked to be mad with anyone. But I guess I should probably make good on my promise at some point. Shall we go and find them now?’

The music changes to Steps, and that feels like a good time to leave. ‘Yes, but I need to pee. I’ll see you up there in a few minutes.’

Izzy nods, then weaves her way through the revellers.

I jump off the wooden block of the beach bar, and onto the sand.

The staff aren’t supposed to use the guest toilets.

The others regularly flout the rules, but I’m too fresh out of school for that, and anyway, a walk along the beach to the accommodation block might sober me up a bit.

While the gardens and top section of the beach are busy with people, it’s quieter by the water’s edge, and I enjoy the sense of privacy it gives me.

Like nobody knows I’m here, except the tiny fish in the shallow water, darting away as my shadow looms over them.

The view sways a little and I giggle. Wow, I am pretty drunk.

‘Francesca.’

I gasp. ‘Jesus! You scared me.’ Why is my heart racing so much? It’s only Salvo. I eye the beach bar. ‘What are you doing down here?’

‘I was out fishing, but I think the noise from the party has scared the fish away, so I came in.’ He tilts his head. ‘What’s wrong, Francesca? You look nervous.’

‘No, I’m fine,’ I say, privately panicking that he’ll guess he’s the source of my fear.

‘Has something happened? Are you not enjoying the party?’

I look towards the beach bar again. The music is still loud, but it feels distant now. Muffled. The exhilaration of my drunkenness replaced by a blurred anxiety. ‘I was just going back to my room for a bit. But I’m meeting up with my friends again soon.’ I burrow my toes into the sand.

He keeps staring at me, and I have a sense of him peeling back my skin and levering open my skull until he can read my mind. ‘Raphael said you’re sharing a room with the French sailing instructor,’ he finally says.

‘What? Yes, that’s right, Izzy,’ I whisper.

‘And you get on?’

‘Yes.’

He nods, and keeps nodding, as though he wants to say more.

‘I should probably go,’ I mumble, taking advantage of the silence. ‘My friends will be wondering where I am.’

‘Francesca …’

‘I prefer Frankie, if that’s okay.’

‘Izzy hasn’t said anything to you, has she? About me?’

‘What? No, nothing.’ Even in the darkness, I can see Salvo’s face flood with relief, and it makes my stomach churn. I don’t know what Izzy has against him, but it’s clearly something. And now he’s worried about what she knows too. ‘I mean, why would she?’ I hear myself ask.

Salvo looks away, towards the sea, and I follow his gaze. There are about ten fishing boats moored to buoys, swaying gently in the waves. One of those will be Salvo’s, I think. Despite how much I love the sea, I can’t imagine fishing at night, alone in the darkness.

‘Maybe she doesn’t know anything,’ Salvo murmurs. ‘She was there, but not involved at all. I hope, for her sake, that she’s unaware.’

Izzy’s warning comes back to me. How she saw Salvo talking to dodgy men in the middle of the night.

‘I need to go,’ I blurt out, not wanting to hear more.

I turn towards the beach bar, my need to pee forgotten, but Salvo reaches for me.

His fingers curl around my wrist and it makes me want to run even more. But my feet won’t move.

‘I didn’t mean to scare you,’ he says, his breath warm on my skin. ‘I will always protect you, Francesca, for your dad’s sake.’

‘From what?’ I manage.

‘Hey! Frankie! Is that you?’

I look up. Relief floods through me. ‘Dom!’ Normally I keep Dom at arm’s length on a night out. He always gets drunk and plays a stupid joke that only he finds amusing. But right now, I love the familiarity of his slurring voice. ‘Over here!’

‘You need to trust me, Francesca. I promise.’ Salvo releases my wrist, then twists in the sand, his gnarled bare feet catching the moonlight as he disappears up the beach.

‘I was looking for Izzy; she was supposed to get us some wine.’ Dom pauses, a hiccup making his chest jump, as his eyes narrow. ‘That looked a bit intense.’

‘Huh?’ My brain is stuck on a loop. Salvo’s words spinning around in my head. I didn’t mean to scare you. I will always protect you. You need to trust me.

Suddenly a physical urge swamps me, a need to be distracted from the strange old man and Izzy’s warning about him. Without thinking, I reach out for Dom, slip my arms around his muscular torso, pulls him towards me, rest my head on his chest.

‘Well, hello,’ Dom says, his voice somewhere between confused and thrilled.

‘Don’t talk,’ I instruct quietly. Then I tilt my chin, lean in closer, and shut my eyes as our lips connect.