He’d been tagged yesterday by Sonia in a photo of the two of them sprawled out on a picnic blanket. Rather than standing at the altar, ready to love me for better or worse, he’d chosen to sit in a field. Sandwiches and crisps formed an oval around a giant chocolate cake. I wondered how long it would be until he told her she should lay off the sweet stuff. Pinch her waist and sigh she’s getting chubby. I studied the picture. She had to be a size twelve – the same as me. I’d thought after all his barbed comments that it was my body that turned him off; it was almost worse seeing he’d gone for somebody the same shape as me. To know that it wasn’t the outer me he didn’t want, the thing I could change, but the inner me. The essence of who I was wasn’t enough for him. I wasn’t enough for him.
Best day ever!! Sonia had captioned her post. He had liked her comment but hadn’t written a reply. Had it really been his best day ever? Better than the day he proposed? That was over a picnic too. His signature move. Suddenly it all seemed so calculated. A message that I’m easily replaceable. Easily forgettable.
Bastard.
‘Charming,’ Nell muttered.
‘Sorry, I hadn’t realized I’d said that out loud. You’re awake then?’
‘God knows why. It’s the middle of the bloody night.’
‘It’s quarter past eight.’
‘Same thing.’
Bright sunlight burst into the room when I opened the shutters. Nell shrieked and yanked the duvet over her head. I had to blink several times before I could make out the clear blue sky.
‘It’s going to be scorching,’ I said.
‘Too right.’ Nell’s words were muffled. ‘And that’s just me in my bikini.’
The all-inclusive morning buffet was ridiculous. Nell and I had piled our plates with crispy bacon, thick maple syrup, waffles, eggs with runny yolks, crusty bread and sachets of orange marmalade, reassuring each other that we’d swim off the calories. Not that I could swim properly but walking in water was toning. Also there was a gym here. Yoga classes. Beach volleyball. I was going to be all kinds of active.
By midday I’d been star-fished on my towel for two hours. My dog-eared copy of Jane Eyre laid unopened next to me. I’d been intending to reread it this week before my students began it next year, but for once I had switched off from work, from home. From everything. The sand moulded to my shape, cradling me in its warmth. The tender skin around my chest was beginning to sting. It took a gargantuan effort to lever myself onto my elbows. Nell was shrieking in the ocean. Jumping over crystal waves. Screeching at a boy named Josh to stop splashing her.
I became aware of eyes on me. Making a pantomime of adjusting my hat, tucking my hair in, I twisted my head left to right until I saw him. It was the boy from the bar. I prickled with embarrassment, recalling how I’d run away in tears last night when he had tried to give me back my flower. Instinctively, I sucked in my stomach while covering my pasty sausage legs with my towel. When I’d first suggested booking Alircia for a honeymoon, the idiot I had almost married told me I needed to lose at least a stone if I wanted to look half decent in the one-piece swimsuits he always said suited me better than bikinis.
I had tried.
Picking at salad while he tucked into steak and chips; sitting in the cinema, my lap empty, while he balanced a giant tub of buttery popcorn, the smell making me salivate. After I’d been dumped though, I’d stuffed myself with ice cream to cool my humiliation and I’d probably put on those few pounds I’d lost, and more. It hadn’t seemed important what I weighed. But now it did. Was the boy from the bar wondering why I was the only girl on the beach in a one-piece? Imagining that my body underneath was covered in boils? From behind the safety of my sunglasses, I stole another glance in his direction. Rather than staring at me with horror or disgust or even amusement, he wore an expression of something else. Admiration? Interest? There was no way I was up for a holiday romance, but still it gave me hope that my bruised and battered self-confidence might one day heal. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had looked at me like that. The last time anyone had looked at me properly at all.
It hit me that my fiancé had long stopped loving me, if he ever had, and for the first time I felt I might have had a lucky escape.
With a start, I realized that I was staring and he knew that I was looking at him. I felt a gentle creep of heat that had nothing to do with the sun. A pull of attraction as he held me in his gaze. Wanting to wash away the sticky sun cream, the sand clinging to my skin, all the feelings I didn’t want to be feeling, I raced into the sea, thundering past Nell until my thighs were covered by the water, my bottom, my hips. The roll around my stomach that never seemed to disappear no matter how many crunches I did. Cringing at the cellulite speckling the back of my legs. Feeling horribly conspicuous in my black swimming costume amongst a plethora of neon bikinis.
Despite its perfect blue, the sea was colder than I had expected. I sucked in my breath, tasting the droplets of salty water that splashed my lips. Counting to three in my head, I plunged under the waves, slicking my hair back over my scalp when I surfaced. Bouncing on my toes, adjusting to my lower body feeling cool, the sun heating my shoulders and face. Around my legs weaved fish, larger than I had ever seen. Their silvery scales catching the light, casting mini rainbows above the waves. I trailed my hands through the water as I walked, smiling with delight as a fish brushed against my fingertips. Tomorrow, I decided I’d buy a snorkel. I could stay in the shallows and feed the fish. Not with bread – I didn’t want to make them ill – but I’d bring some vegetables back from breakfast.
I strode forward. Once. Twice. Stopping to let the ripples around me settle. Watching a shoal of bream pass by, I moved once more. Suddenly there was a tugging sensation, my legs knocked from under me. At first I was confused, thinking it was someone playing a trick on me. I glanced around, realizing how far from the shore I had strayed. Panic rose. I was out of my depth. I tried to step towards the beach, using my hands to scoop back the water and give my legs momentum, but I was marching on the spot. Nell almost a pinprick on her towel. Unable to hear me shouting her name. I flapped my arms in the air. A wave knocked me off my feet. Water flooding my mouth. I was choking. Spluttering. Coming up for air and sinking once more.
‘Help!’ I screamed now. My voice minute against the vastness of the ocean that held me in its grip.
The current dragged me back once more. I was treading water now. Tiring. My body exhausted with the effort of trying to reach dry land. My eyes stinging with salt. With tears. My throat sore from both screaming and the salt water I had gulped.
It can only have been minutes but it felt like hours, my limbs heavy with exhaustion. The ocean bed sucking me down.
I felt myself slip under. Spiral down. Down. The clear water growing murky. For a split second I let my body go limp. Giving up. My lips parted. Water streamed down my throat. My lungs burning as they gasped for air. Unbidden, my feet gave adrenaline-fuelled kicks, my arms windmilling with panic. My head burst out of the water. My whole body thrashing like a fish on a line, panic contracting each and every cell. I’d been swept even further from the beach. Why weren’t there any lifeguards here? Why wasn’t anybody helping me?
I was crying now. Fear causing me to shiver despite the sun. I raised my hand. My body dropping like a stone. My fingers grasping at nothing, fruitlessly trying to find something to grip onto.