Sam is one of six kids, including three half-siblings, ranging in age from nineteen to nearly forty. He’s uncle to eight more, and there are various step-parents and cousins, though the only ones he feels close to are his Uncle Paul and Aunt Steph, and their girls, Nina and Zoe. That’s who he’d bring with him, and with his eyes shut and the sun warming his body, Sam drifts into an enjoyable daydream where his sudden good fortune puts him in a position to repay the generosity Paul and Steph showed to him. He pictures their faces when he says he’s treating them all to a holiday: anywhere they want to go.
Trouble is, Nina’s in the second year of her law degree, while Zoe has recently returned from travelling in South East Asia. That causes his daydream to stutter a little, but he can’t take it personally: when kids nowadays get such amazing opportunities, it would be crazy not to take them...
Kids nowadays, he thinks ruefully. As though he’s forty rather than twenty-six.
Almost without noticing, Jody rediscovers her ability to relax. Suddenly two hours have passed, and she decides that this is enough exposure to the sun for the first day. Back to the room for a nap, she decrees, and no one protests – although that sly chancer Dylan wangles another ice cream out of them first.
Her gut reaction is to refuse, but when she opens her mouth, she hears herself saying, ‘Go on then.’ Because that’s the point of holidays, isn’t it? That’s what she hopes to lay down in their memories to relish for years to come. The treats. The not saying no.
In the room, Grace and Dylan sit on their beds and read the comics they were allowed to buy at Gatwick. Jody makes a start on the unpacking, kneeling beside the open cases on the cool tiled floor. Sam helps, obediently placing clothes and toiletries in the homes she allocates for them.
It takes a while to register how quiet the kids have become. They exchange a glance, then Sam tiptoes to the alcove and has a look round. He waves her over. Jody slips her arm round his waist as they stand for a moment, cherishing the sight of the children zonked out on their beds, Dylan snoring gently, Grace faintly smiling in her sleep.
‘Beautiful,’ Jody whispers, and Sam nods and whispers back: ‘Thank you.’
‘What for?’
‘This,’ he says, and kisses her, and carefully they draw the curtain across the alcove and close the blinds before creeping between the half-empty cases, discarding their clothes as they go, and slip into the spacious double bed.
‘We can’t,’ Jody hisses. ‘Can we?’
Sam shrugs. ‘Just a cuddle.’
Jody’s full-throated laugh nearly ruins it. She has to clamp a hand over her mouth. They push off the top covers, leaving only a sheet, wriggle down beneath it and embrace. The mattress feels cool for a few blissful seconds; their bodies are warm and quickly grow warmer, their touch soft then softer; the sun has already heightened the sensitivity of their skin, so all that’s needed is the lightest of caresses. They make love with hands and mouths, fingers and lips, with slow and slippery teasing, tasting salt and sun cream, alcohol and chlorine, and the feel beneath their fingertips is of silk, the wetness silky and hot, their movements slow and smooth, fingers pressing hot and harder, fierce and fast then faster, gripping, gliding, gasping; finished.
They sleep.
6
Until Sam snaps awake. The room is unfamiliar, dark but with the threat of a terrible brightness straining to reach them. He senses someone watching from the corner, then remembers the floor lamp and with that he knows exactly where he is and how he came to fall asleep.
‘What time…?’
Jody stirs, then jerks upright. ‘Welcome meeting’s at six!’
Sam checks his phone. ‘It’s five to.’
‘Shit.’
‘Do we really have to go?’
‘We ought to, if we’re going to make the most of this holiday.’
Sam says nothing. He would dearly love to lie here and drift for a while, but he can’t later complain that he’s missing out on information if he doesn’t bother to turn up for the meeting.
They dress quickly. Sam feels guilty about waking the kids, until he pulls back the curtain and finds Grace reading a Lemony Snicket book while Dylan is staring at the ceiling, as if thinking deep thoughts about life and the universe.
Five minutes of musical chairs in the bathroom and they’re ready to leave. The heat and light are dazzling after the cool dim cave of their bedroom, but it helps to rouse them. Walking briskly, they retrace their route to reception and this time no one around the pool gives them a second glance.
The welcome meeting is underway in the far corner of the main lounge. A dozen or so people sit at a cluster of tables, listening to the rep. It’s Gabby, from the coach, holding a plastic folder bearing the Sheldon logo. Spotting her, Jody lets out a tiny snort. Sam knows the sound means something but he isn’t sure what.
Gabby glances round and breaks into a smile, meeting Sam’s gaze for a long second. She looks ridiculously pleased to see him, and he has to remind himself that her wages probably depend on how many people show up for these talks. Jody has already warned him that the reps push you to sign up for their trips.
Sorry, Gabby, he thinks. You won’t be fleecing us.
To Jody, the look on the rep’s face seems to be one of relief. Which is odd, given that there’s already a respectable turnout. The middle-aged couple from the plane are among the group, but keep their gazes fixed on their laps.
Gabby, however, interrupts her spiel to say hello, then consults her list. ‘Now, it’s Sam Berry and Jody Lamb, yes?’
The rep invites them to take a seat, and Sam instinctively selects a table at the back of the gathering. It’s close to the tray of complementary drinks: either white wine or orange juice. He picks up juices for the kids, nothing for himself. Jody considers the wine, then she too opts for juice.
She feels oddly ill at ease as she sits down; grimy from the heat and disorientated from sleeping so unexpectedly. They also had sex, and she wonders suddenly if they might smell. With a clutch of panic, she glances at the middle-aged couple just as the man looks up and stares straight at her. Jody turns to listen with exaggerated concentration to what Gabby has to say.
While she speaks, the rep hugs the folder to her chest, which to Jody seems like poor body language – until she realises it’s to prevent people from staring at her boobs. Aside from that, Gabby has a confident, attractive manner, and doesn’t seem bored to be repeating the same information for what must be the umpteenth time.
‘So, welcome, once again, to the beautiful island of Sekliw.’ She pronounces it ‘Sekley’. ‘In a minute I’ll tell you about some of the brilliant places you can visit, but first a bit more about the island itself. There are six main settlements, all on the coast, two each on the east, the west and here, near to where we are, on the south.’
From a group of two couples with several children between them, a bald man with a Yorkshire accent says, ‘What about the north?’ The other man in their group, pretending to sound aggrieved, says, ‘Yeah. Don’t forget the north!’
Gabby gives them an indulgent smile. ‘I’d never do that, guys! No, the north of the island is much less developed than the rest. Apart from one or two private estates, there’s a nature reserve that might one day be turned in to a major tourist attraction.’