Page 15 of Someone in the Water

Frankie

‘How about truth or dare?’ Harriet suggests, her voice already slurring despite it being the middle of the afternoon.

It’s the waterfront team’s day off – always on a Sunday because it’s the main transfer day for the hotel – and we’ve spent most of it either sleeping or drinking.

A long lie-in followed by a rowdy discussion about what to do with our precious hours of freedom (while I mainly focused on not making eye contact with Dom).

Dom wanted to go cliff jumping through waterfalls, while Archie suggested tennis and Harriet mentioned a visit to the local market.

But there was no consensus until Izzy offered to get hold of a stash of hotel wine from Raphael for us to share.

We found a quiet stretch of beach out of sight from the guests and draped a collection of towels over the sand. Now we’re sat in a circle with six wine bottles and three tubes of paprika Stackers laid out between us.

‘I’m up for it,’ Dom says, knocking his plastic cup against Harriet’s then taking a swig. It’s cheap rosé sparkling wine, like pink lemonade with a kick, and we’re already on our fourth bottle.

‘It’s dangerous territory,’ Archie warns, raising an eyebrow.

‘You never know what secrets you might be forced to divulge.’ I know he’s trying to sound jokey, but I can hear the nervousness behind it, and it makes me wonder what his secrets are.

Posh, Scottish, and with better listening skills than most – he seems like an open book to me.

‘That’s what the dare option is for, dumb arse,’ Harriet throws back. ‘Or are you scared of those too?’

‘You Brits are so stupid,’ Izzy says. ‘You can just lie, you know. If you don’t want to tell us your secrets, just make something up. That’s the beauty of working in a place like this. You can be anyone you want.’

‘So who do you want to be, Izzy?’ Jack asks. He leans back, as though he doesn’t really care, but his eyes scrutinise her.

Izzy gives him a tight smile. ‘The queen of Corsica, of course.’ She takes a gulp of her wine, stares at her cup for a moment, then turns to look at Jack. ‘What about you? Ready to reveal your secrets?’

‘Why don’t you spin the bottle and find out?’

‘Me first!’ Harriet calls out. ‘It was my idea.’ She grabs one of the empty bottles, lays it on a smoothed-out section of towel, and flicks her wrist. The bottle spins three times, then slows to a stop, the neck pointing at Izzy.

Harriet looks triumphant, as though she suggested the game for this very opportunity.

‘Our lovely French Isobel,’ she starts. ‘Hmmm, let’s see.

Would you sleep with Raphael if he propositioned you? ’

Izzy leans back, as though the idea has repelled her. ‘What? Of course not! He’s married for a start, and has a kid, and he’s about forty.’

‘He’s thirty-four,’ Harriet says defensively, put out by Izzy’s unmitigated denial. ‘And good-looking. And rich. And he gave you all this wine.’

‘She could be lying,’ Archie points out, raising his eyebrows and grinning. ‘After all, she did suggest that option in the first place.’

Harriet’s triumph partially returns. ‘Come on, admit it. You fancy him a little bit.’

‘Gross, no,’ Izzy says, shaking her head emphatically, her eyes not quite keeping up.

‘Now it’s my turn to spin.’ She winks at me, and it sends a lurch of panic through my belly – she seems even sassier than usual today, which is probably down to the wine – then twists the bottle.

It spins on its axis, finally stopping opposite Archie.

She looks at him for a few moments, as though weighing up what to ask, then takes a breath. ‘Are you in love with Jack?’

Everyone seems to grow a bit taller as our backs straighten out.

My eyes dart to Archie. Sure, I’ve always found him the easiest out of the three boys to talk to, but that doesn’t mean anything.

And yes, during the times we’ve chatted on the beach after a night out, there’s never been a hint of sexual tension between us.

But gay? And in love with Jack? It hadn’t occurred to me.

But the answer becomes clear when Archie looks at Jack with a Mayday signal clear on his face.

‘That’s none of your fucking business,’ Jack warns, his anger dimming his good looks, while making his London accent more pronounced.

‘He could lie,’ Izzy offers with a dark smirk. ‘If he was ashamed of it.’

‘Ashamed of being gay?’ Jack releases a bitter laugh. ‘You homophobic bitch.’

‘No, stupid. Ashamed of falling for someone like you.’

‘That’s not fair,’ Archie says quietly. He shuffles sideways, closer to Jack.

It’s a small movement but one that shouts louder.

‘Jack is stronger than any of us. He’s had plenty to cope with back home, and he’s dealt with it like an absolute hero.

And I don’t know about love exactly, but yeah, we like each other. Anyone have a problem with that?’

‘Not me,’ Dom says with a grin. ‘Reduces my competition to zero.’

‘As in, you’re a couple?’ Harriet asks, slow to catch up, although whether that’s down to her traditional upbringing or the amount of wine she’s consumed is hard to know.

‘I think it’s great,’ I say, trying to ease the tension in the air.

It’s not entirely true. While I don’t understand why Izzy dislikes Jack so much, there is something damaged about him.

And Archie is too nice to be hurt. But then again, I slept with Dom to escape a scary old man, so I’m not really in a position to judge.

‘What do you mean by plenty to cope with?’ Harriet asks, leaning forward. Now she’s digested the news, her thirst for gossip has kicked in.

Archie lays his hand on Jack’s clenched fist. ‘That’s not really—’

‘No, it’s fine,’ Jack interrupts, flashing Harriet one of his more attractive smiles, while the plastic cup crackles in his grip.

‘You try being a gay kid on an estate like mine.’ He reaches for Archie’s wine and gulps it down.

‘You get the shit kicked out of you for not supporting Spurs, so you can imagine what fucking boys gets.’

‘Were you bullied?’ Harriet asks, sounding uncharacteristically compassionate.

Jack shrugs. ‘Given the cold shoulder at school. Knocked around by a few dickheads on the estate.’

‘Jesus, that’s terrible.’

Jack hunches over his empty cup. ‘I don’t want your sympathy.’

‘Why not? You deserve it.’

‘No I don’t,’ he mutters. ‘Not after what I did.’

‘Why, what did you do?’ Izzy asks, her voice colder than Harriet’s.

‘He didn’t do anything, not really,’ Archie says quickly. ‘Jack argued with his family. Said some cruel things to his mum and dad a few days before he came out here. You know, like we all do when we’re angry. No one was hurt.’

‘I don’t,’ Izzy says, staring down at her wine.

‘You don’t what?’ Dom asks, reaching for a new bottle. He twists the cork, and I jump when it pops.

‘Argue with my family. At least, I haven’t for a long time.’

‘What, you’ve never fought with your parents?’ Harriet asks. ‘You expect us to believe that?’

Izzy looks up, her expression clouding over. ‘I promise it’s not worth it. Arguments can have consequences that you’ll never forgive yourself for.’

‘So can staying silent,’ Archie counters in a solemn voice.

He doesn’t say anything more, but I can guess what he means.

Archie has told me that his family live on an estate too – except a very different one to Jack’s.

A Scottish estate with grouse shooting and garden parties.

Extreme privilege, but probably not the easiest environment to grow up in if you’re not following the rules of the establishment either.

‘My mum has spent thirteen years wishing she’d stayed quiet and kept her opinions to herself,’ Izzy finally says, in a quiet voice, without looking up. ‘I tell her not to feel guilty but …’ Her voice trails off.

‘What did you argue about?’ Harriet asks quietly.

Izzy finishes her wine, then scrunches the cup in her hand, the flimsy plastic cracking in her fist. She looks up. ‘No, it wasn’t me. Mum argued with my dad. Just before he died. And now she can never take it back.’

‘Jesus, Izzy, that’s fucking awful,’ Dom mutters.

‘I don’t like to talk about it.’

‘Of course,’ Dom says, his tone unusually respectful.

But Jack’s tongue clicks with disapproval. ‘So Izzy gets to choose which parts of her life we can talk about, but the rest of us have to bare our souls. That sounds fair.’

‘Don’t be a wanker, Jack,’ Dom warns.

‘He’s got a point though, hasn’t he?’ Harriet says. ‘Izzy had no respect for Archie and Jack’s privacy when she forced them out of the closet, then made out like Jack doesn’t deserve Archie’s affection. But when it comes to her own private life, she wants to pick and choose what she tells us.’

‘Maybe it’s another one of her lies,’ Jack says. ‘Maybe Izzy’s dad is alive and well, and she’s just attention-seeking.’

I hold my breath in shock. How could Jack suggest such a thing after what Izzy has just shared? I turn towards her, ready to console her, but Izzy doesn’t look like she needs comfort. She’s staring at Jack like she wants to kill him.