A Twist of Fate (3 page)

‘Mustn't let the fire go out,' he mused.

‘No. No sign of rescue yet.'

‘Don't fret. They'll be here soon enough.'

We sat in silence for a while, staring out at the silvery sea as the moon brightened.

‘How strange,' I said.

‘What?'

‘This. Everything. I can't believe it. Can you?'

‘Have to. It's happened and there it is.'

‘This morning I was in an airport set to return to the grey monotony of London … and now this.'

‘Aye …' It was said with a deep sigh. Even the way he said ‘aye' made me want him. ‘You got a job to go back to?'

‘I'm on holiday for the summer. I'm a teacher.'

‘Oh, right. What d'you teach?'

‘History.'

‘Oh aye? I did history A-Level.'

‘Did you?'

I must have sounded surprised. Paul smirked. ‘What? You can't believe I'd do A-Levels? There is a brain lurking somewhere inside this crusty, northern exterior.'

‘I didn't mean that,' I quickly corrected. ‘I just didn't put you down as the history sort. Physics or maths, maybe.'

‘Yeah, well, you're half right. I did physics and design technology, too.'

‘Interesting combination. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. What was your favourite period to study?'

‘I liked learning about the wars and conflicts. And medieval history, too. The Plantagenets. Edward III. Pretty canny fella.'

I laughed.

‘What?'

‘Here I am stranded on a desert island discussing Edward III with an ex-army builder.'

He smiled softly at me, causing my belly to flip, before turning to throw a pebble in the sand and sighing. ‘Didn't amount to nowt though.'

‘How do you mean?'

‘Never got to take the exams, despite doing most of the work for them. My ma had been ill for several years, cancer. My dad couldn't cope. When I were younger I spent a year in care while he dealt with things as best he could. When I were older, she seemed to get a little better, responded well to treatment, and I came back. Then she took a turn for the worse and Dad had to stop working to look after her. He'd never agreed with me studying. I hoped to go to university, do engineering, but he made me quit school in the Upper Sixth and go to work. My ma put up a good protest – she wanted me to carry on, but …' He shrugged. ‘We needed the money. And folk like me didn't go to university. My dad was a miner, my ma a cleaner. I just walked out of my class one day, never went back. I got a good job for a local building firm. Did very well, learnt my trade, supported my family.'

‘And your mother?'

He stared ahead and threw another stone. ‘Lasted another year. I lost her twelve year ago next month.'

‘I'm so sorry.'

He looked over at me and studied me intently. I felt myself growing pink.

‘When you say that, you sound like you really mean it,' he said.

I smiled softly. ‘I do. I lost my aunt, who I adored, very early to cancer.'

He shrugged resignedly. ‘Everyone's affected by it.'

‘And for everyone it's hell and it's unfair and horrific.'

He looked steadily at me. ‘Aye, it is. That's when I needed out. Joined the army.'

‘Which regiment?'

He smirked. ‘That important to you?'

‘No, I'm just curious.'

‘Started out with the Yorkshire Regiment, then moved onto Special Air Service.'

I looked at him blankly.

‘The SAS,' he added.

‘Oh. Right.' I was impressed into silence.

My appreciation of his survival skills grew, and, although I hated the immediacy with which it happened, so did my attraction.

‘What about you then, Callie Frobisher?' he asked.

‘What about me?'

‘Why d'you talk so posh?'

‘Is that your first impression? That I'm posh?'

He shrugged.

‘Why do I talk like this?' I continued. ‘I don't know. Parents. School. Friends.'

‘Do all your friends sound like you?'

‘Yes, I suppose they do.' I blushed, suddenly ashamed of it.

‘Where'd you go to school? Cheltenham Ladies' College or something like that?'

I laughed. ‘No. My school was much lowlier. But … it was fee-paying.'

‘Fee-paying? Rich people's school, y'mean?'

I resented his immediate prejudice. ‘I didn't choose it. I just went where I was put.'

‘And I bet you don't teach in your local comprehensive now neither.'

More embarrassment. ‘No.'

‘Another “fee-paying school”?'

‘Yes. But I work very hard. I'm always taking work home with me.'

‘And getting nice long holidays in the Maldives.'

His assumptions, which hit closer to the mark than I cared to admit, raised my temper. ‘Oh, don't give me the old “long holidays” crap. Anyway, this one wasn't from my teacher's salary, which is very modest. It was a present, a reward for working hard in the year.'

‘The Bank of Mummy and Daddy?'

I bristled. ‘Don't judge me! You know nothing about me. My parents worked hard for their wealth and I'll work hard for mine. I know I'm lucky and I don't expect these things, but it takes all kinds in this world, you know.' I stood up, indignant.

He put his hands up in resignation. ‘I'm sorry. Can never resist a bit of class banter. I don't mean nothing by it. Just like finding out about people. Come on, sit down.'

Paul held his hand out to me to draw me down again. After a sigh, I took it and sank down next to him. My side panged and I sucked in.

‘Careful.'

I turned to him. ‘Didn't you get hurt at all?'

‘Sore ankle. Cut leg. Nothing too bad. Someone was looking out for me.'

I laughed, then winced. My arm had been hurting for an age, but I'd tried to ignore it.

‘What?'

‘My arm.' I touched it and a fierce pain raced through it.

‘Let's have a look.'

He took hold of the sleeve of my shirt, and only then I noticed it was stained pink with blood. He lifted it with the tenderness of a brood hen. I made the mistake of looking into his eyes. Our tiff was instantly forgotten. After a searing moment where our gazes met and my belly somersaulted, he turned back to examine my arm.

‘Nice gash you got there.'

I glanced down and winced. I had an angry cut about three inches long running along my arm. It was still seeping blood a little. ‘You may need it stitching when we're back, but we can bind it for now. Hold on.'

He stood and jogged nimbly over to some wreckage. After scrabbling about for a while he returned with a bandage. ‘Y'see,' he grinned. ‘We've got all we need. First aid kit intact.'

Paul cleaned the wound with some saline then worked concertedly and skilfully to bind my arm. ‘It'll have to be tight, I'm afraid.'

His fingers were warm and assured and, as they grazed my skin, I felt an unstoppable surge of desire flaming inside me. He was so close and so hard and firm. My head swam and I was unable to take my eyes off him.

He finished by tying off the bandage and smiling at me. ‘There you go. Good as new.' He didn't move his hands away, and stayed still, holding my arm tenderly yet firmly.

I held his gaze and smiled back. He was right there, strong and sure. Would it be so bad to just … But how mad this was. All of it. I averted my gaze.

Paul drew in a breath suddenly and turned out to look at the sea. ‘Not a bad spot really, is it? I mean, if you're gonna be the sole survivors of an air crash, there're worse places to end up.'

My stomach dropped with disappointment.

The moment was lost. Probably for the best. This was crazy. I couldn't enter into some mad relationship on a desert island with someone I barely knew. Someone with whom I had nothing in common. Someone who was entirely wrong for me. Just because we were stuck together didn't mean we should do anything. And there was Rupert. I was going back to Rupert, after all. I'd already made my decision.

I focused instead on my food and took a bite of roll. It filled a gap, at least. We ate on quietly for a while.

‘You should sleep. It'll help you.'

I was suddenly aware of being bone-achingly tired. ‘Yes, I'm utterly shattered. I'll … umm …' I looked vaguely at the shelter.

‘You sleep in there. I'll be alright out on the beach. I want to keep a lookout for a while longer, see if I spot anything. And I'd like to keep the fire going.'

‘OK. I'll just … umm …' I pointed vaguely behind some trees. I needed the loo. I must have done that involuntary lean to the side that gave it away.

Paul chuckled. ‘Find yourself a spot behind a tree and dig a little hole. Cover it in sand. Easy. Happens to us all, you know.'

‘Right … I … yes.' I padded off, my face flushed, his gorgeous smirk bright in my mind.

When I returned he had moved back to the fire and sat with a stick, looking into the flames. His skin glowed golden and his eyes shone.

‘Good night then,' I called.

He turned to look. ‘G'night, Callie Frobisher.'

I headed to the shelter but then remembered myself and glanced back over my shoulder.

‘And thank you,' I said.

‘For what?'

‘Saving my life.'

He gave me a soft smile then looked back to the fire.

Three

Surprisingly, I did sleep. My entire body seemed to sink through the earth. But it was a chaotic, confused sleep, filled with nightmares. I was drowning but it was in a bottle of gin. I was flying, then falling, then up again. Faces from the plane raced through my dreams. The calm-voiced pilot, the woman sitting beside me, her hands grabbing me and not able to hold on, the panicked cabin crew. I woke screaming, unstoppably and desperately.

‘Shhh, shhh, it's all right, it's all right, you're safe.'

That voice again. If I could cling to that voice alone, I'd be safe.

Paul was kneeling beside me, his hand on my arm. I put out a hand of my own and gripped onto him. I could barely get a hold, his arm was so large and solid.

I took slow breaths to steady myself. ‘Sorry, sorry. Bad dream.'

‘Yeah … me too.'

I glanced up at him. He was so controlled, so calm, but he had been through the same. I managed a faint smile. He returned it. ‘You OK?'

I nodded. ‘Thank you.'

‘I found some limp bacon and managed to fry it up over the fire. Come and have some. It'll do you good. There's a stream over there too. Fresh water. And look what I found …' He tossed an airline freebie toothbrush and toothpaste at me.

I caught them and grinned appreciatively. ‘I'll go and wash.'

As I approached the stream, something dug into me through my jeans pocket. I reached in, took it out, and smirked at my discovery; my packet of contraceptive pills, intact and almost full. They'd survived a plane crash and a near-drowning. I'd barely had need for them recently, but by force of habit, I popped the next one out and swallowed it.

After splashing in the cooling water gratefully and giving my teeth a thorough clean, I headed back to the fire. Paul handed me some bacon on one of those little airplane trays. ‘Thanks.' It tasted remarkably good.

‘Orange juice?'

I laughed and took the small carton. ‘You've thought of everything.'

‘Only the best,
madaarm
,' he exaggerated, giving a mock bow.

We sat and ate contentedly for a while. With him, I could forget the trauma.

‘Have you got anyone else worrying about you at home?' I said, regretting it immediately, but unable to stop.

He glanced at me curiously. ‘You mean like a wife? Girlfriend?'

I nodded, not looking at him, trying to appear as casual as I could.

He shook his head. ‘Nope.'

I was stupidly relieved but hoped I hadn't annoyed him by asking. His answer had been very brief. But he seemed relaxed enough and soon followed up my query. ‘How about you? Boyfriend?'

I smiled to myself. ‘No and yes.'

‘No and yes?'

‘Well, it's complicated. We're not together at this precise moment, but I sort of promised to go back to him when I got back to England.'

‘What the hell does that mean?' he frowned.

‘We split up a year ago after four years together.'

‘Why?'

I tutted. ‘You ask a lot of questions.'

He shrugged. ‘Nothin' else to do.'

Actually there was something we could do, and an image of it forced itself vividly into my mind. He could take me right here on the sand, his hot, hard body could do anything it wanted to me. I blushed scarlet again and focused instead on discussing my time with Rupert. ‘I ended it. It had become more of a habit than a developing relationship.'

‘Is that what you should always try for – a developing relationship?'

‘Yes, don't you think? There's no point in being in something that just stagnates. You should grow together, always wake up thinking there's something new to discover about the person. Something to figure out.'

‘So you've decided you haven't figured him out after all?'

‘I don't know. I just … he's familiar to me. He's easy. He treats me well.'

He paused briefly. ‘Is that enough? Does that leave you enough to figure out?'

‘I suppose I'll find out.'

I fell quiet. So did he. It didn't matter. It was an easy silence, the only sound the crackling of the fire. After a while, I said, ‘It's strange isn't it, you and me?'

‘How d'you mean?'

‘Well, here we are talking, getting on perfectly well. We probably would never have spoken to each other in real life. I mean … we may never have had the opportunity.'

‘I were sitting near you on the plane for over an hour. You could have talked then.'