Page 36 of Someone in the Water

Frankie

‘Come on,’ Izzy says, tugging at the hem of my dress, her own now a crumpled mess on the sand. ‘It’s nearly midnight.’

I stare at the sea. Normally it feels like my second home, but it looks dark and unforgiving tonight.

Clouds are blocking any moonlight, and the waves carry a menacing energy.

When Izzy suggested a midnight swim, I jumped at the idea – literally jumped up and ran outside.

But as my drunkenness fades in the fresh air, I can feel my enthusiasm draining away too.

A wind gust whips up from the shoreline and I rub my arms. ‘Where are the others?’ I ask. ‘Shouldn’t we wait for them?’

Izzy scoffs. ‘Harriet says she doesn’t want to get her hair wet, which is the wettest excuse I’ve ever heard. Dom’s coming, but he was deep in conversation with Jack when I left the bar, and I didn’t want to interrupt.’

‘And Jack?’ I ask, desperately hoping the answer is no.

‘Hmm, I don’t think so,’ Izzy says. ‘He didn’t seem that impressed with my idea to be honest. Which feels all the more reason to do it.’

I give her a half-smile. Wonder if now’s the time to tell her that I know what Jack did too.

‘Look, there’s Dom.’ Izzy nods up the beach.

‘Let’s beat him into the water, come on!

’ She tugs again, and I realise now’s not the time for deep chats.

I pull the halter-neck dress over my head and drop it next to Izzy’s.

Then I accept Izzy’s proffered hand, and we run down the beach together, and through the frothing churn.

When the water reaches our hips, Izzy drops my hand and dives into the oncoming wave. She pops back up, flicks her hair away from her face and grins. ‘Night swimming is the best!’ she calls out. ‘I know Archie would approve of this!’ Then she twists onto her front and starts splashing out to sea.

I take a breath, then dive in too. The water is cold, and the salt stings my skin, but my senses react to the onslaught with a rush of adrenaline.

I burst out of the water, any nerves I felt on the beach washing away with it.

I wave at Dom who’s walking into the water too now.

He seems to be staring right at me, but he doesn’t return the wave, so I flip over and start swimming.

Clean arm strokes, strong kicks. The water is rougher than usual, but it’s not dangerous. This is the Mediterranean after all.

I mistime a stroke, and a wave hits me in the face.

As I pause to catch my breath, I look back towards the beach.

I can’t see Dom now and the dim lights of the hotel suddenly look miles away.

I’ve swum farther than I thought. I tread water, scan the gloomy scene.

I want to find Izzy, but it’s so hard to see anything beyond the surrounding waves in the darkness. I feel the claustrophobic tug of fear.

Something grabs my foot. I gasp. Pull it up. Seaweed, I think. Seaweed vines spiralling in the churning water. But as panic grabs me, the dream tries to edge in – the dead deer, the blood. I shake it away.

It happens again. But this time it pulls me down. As I sink, I try to scrabble upwards with my hands, but it’s like climbing an ever-collapsing mountain. The water swirls around me. I can’t breathe. Can’t reach the surface. Panic sucks greedily on my oxygen. The downward force gets stronger.

In desperation, I kick out with my free foot. Does it slam into something? A sea creature? A person? Or have I got it all wrong? Am I just drunk, and traumatised, and half-crazy with guilt and grief?

My head reaches the surface. Still struggling for breath, I throw one arm out wildly, then the other. I kick my legs chaotically, but finally they gain some purchase, and I start to move. To escape.

The waves are bigger now, the darkness closer.

My lungs scream in agony, but I don’t stop.

I stare at the beach, focus on my only goal.

Finally, my fingertips brush against sand.

I pull my legs up and try to stand, but I’m shaking.

I fall over, then right myself, and stagger to the shore.

My heart is pumping like a jackhammer. But I’ve escaped, survived!

Izzy.

The thought smacks me in the face. Izzy is still in the water.

‘Izzy!’ I scream into the darkness. I whip my head left and right.

Shit, where is everyone? I try to run back into the water, but I can’t do it.

The fear is like a forcefield, holding me back, my toes disappearing into the wet sand.

Izzy is in danger, and I’m too scared to help her.

The dream comes rushing in. The deer bleeding to death. Izzy’s face.

What have I done?

‘Frankie? Are you okay?’ Dom appears, his curly hair dripping seawater.

‘Where’s Izzy?!’ I scream.

‘I … I don’t know. Is she in trouble?’ Dom’s face twists as he tries to make sense of what I’m saying.

‘Can you see her?!’

Dom scans the water, then a beat later, he starts running towards the water, his arms pumping as the emergency sinks in. ‘Izzy!’ he shouts, splashing and smacking into the waves.

I sense someone behind me and twist around. Harriet.

‘What’s going on?’ she asks. ‘Why is Dom calling for Izzy?’

‘We went swimming,’ I say, my voice cracking. ‘I don’t know where she is!’

‘Fuck, really?’ Harriet says, her eyes widening. ‘Why aren’t you in there looking for her?’ She unzips her denim skirt. ‘Are you coming?’

I open my mouth, but no words come out.

‘Fucking hell, Frankie,’ Harriet hisses. ‘You’re a shit friend!’ She charges into the water, her strong arms whipping through the waves. My knees buckle and I drop to the ground. Why haven’t I told them about the hand grabbing my foot? How close I came to drowning myself?

My body sways. Did that even happen?

A strangled cry rises up in the distance, followed by the smack of limbs on water. I push to standing, then watch as my friends surge back towards the beach. Dom, Harriet.

And Raphael. Carrying Izzy.

Where did he come from? How did I not notice him running into the water?

He lays her on the sand, turns to the others. ‘ Appelez les secours! Call 112 someone!’

Harriet runs back up the beach. I imagine her scrabbling for her phone – the only one of us to have a mobile that works out here.

But I don’t turn to look. My body is rigid, staring at Izzy.

Her eyes are open, but glassy. Her head has dropped to one side.

I watch Raphael pump at her chest, breathe into her mouth.

I listen to him call Izzy’s name, then cry out in frustration when she remains lifeless.

I turn away. And Jack’s there, standing a couple of metres behind me.

‘Is she … Is she dead?’ he asks.

I squint. Why is his hair wet? ‘Where have you been?’ I ask.

His expression hardens. ‘Why?’

I swallow. I want to scream at him, tell him what I know. But the memory of being pulled under the water, the sight of Izzy’s body jerking under Raphael’s desperate pumps, has stripped me of any bravery I might once have had. ‘I don’t know,’ I whisper. ‘I don’t know if she’s dead.’

But in my heart, I do know.