‘You can. I’ve got you.’ I wouldn’t let her fall, either of them. I was Samson-strong.
‘I can’t… Adam…’
The alarm beep-beep-beeped in time with my heart, which was now in my mouth. What was I going to do if she refused to jump?
‘Anna, please,’ I said evenly as my feet kicked below the surface, the proverbial swan. I stretched out my arms. ‘Trust me? Please, Star. For me.’
She put one leg over the railing, hesitated.
‘I’m so scared,’ she whispered.
‘I know, but I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.’
Slowly, tentatively, she climbed until she was on the other side of the railing. There was another lurch.
She screamed.
Slipped.
Fell into the water with a loud splash. She disappeared under a wave. I dove beneath the surface and could see her sinking. Deeper and deeper. I swam like I’d never swam before until she was in my arms. They were both in my arms. My wife and child. She struggled. Kicking her legs frantically, dragging us both down again. I broke through the surface. Again and again I fought for us to break free.
‘Anna! Stop struggling!’ I shouted as we burst into sunlight once more. ‘Relax. Relax your body. I promise you, you’re safe. Star. Relax.’ Suddenly she became limp.
Other passengers were swimming past us now but I kept a steady pace. The island we had left a short time ago didn’t look too far away but it was an age before we reached the shallows, where we stood and stumbled, hand in hand, flopping onto the sand.
My chest was on fire. Each breath hurt. It was an effort to speak.
‘Are you okay?’ I asked her. ‘We need to get you checked out. You and the baby.’ Even on dry land I was horribly worried about them and it occurred to me that I always would be. As a father and a husband, I should be.
‘I’m okay, but… but Adam…’ She covered her face with her hands and I wrapped my arms around her. Held her as she cried.
‘Shh,’ I soothed. Over her shoulder I could see a small lifeboat crammed with people heading back to shore but there was still a person clinging to the railings of the yacht. Were they a swimmer? An adult? In my mind I saw that teddy bear, fur sodden with sea water, hopeful yellow ribbon tied around his neck.
‘I have to go back.’
‘Adam! No!’ Anna clutched my arm.
‘There’s still somebody on board. Say they can’t swim? Think how scared you were, Anna.’
‘Please don’t!’ Her fingers dug into my wrist. ‘It isn’t your responsibility.’
‘Anna, there were children on board.’
My eyes held hers until she loosened her grip on my wrist and nodded. ‘Be careful.’
I kissed her hard. ‘I love you, Star.’ And then I was running back into the sea. Swimming back towards the yacht.
But I was tired. My legs aching. Body slow.
I counted the strokes in my head. Slowly. Methodically. I was about halfway and the urge to rest was immense but Anna was back on the beach, alone and scared, and my arms continued slicing through the water, my legs kicking hard.
Back at the yacht I reached the stray passenger. It was an elderly woman on her knees, desperately clutching the railing.
‘Jump,’ I called.
‘I can’t swim.’ Her voice was paper-thin.
‘It’s okay. I’m a strong swimmer.’ But the adrenaline that had surged through my veins was leaching into the salty water. I didn’t know how much longer I could keep going.
I was tired.
So tired.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Anna
Despite the sun blasting out heat, I was shivering. My teeth chattering together. My legs precarious, too unstable to support me.
Adam.
I was on my knees, too weak to stand, shielding my eyes from the brightness bouncing off the waves. Adam was nearly at the yacht. Other swimmers were close behind him, also trying to help. Tourists, the guy from behind the bar, the girl who was flipping burgers on the barbecue. The man who had thrust the leaflet about the yacht trip into Adam’s hand was standing, watching. I glared at him. Blaming him.
There was a rubber-band ball of ‘what if’ in my chest growing larger with every passing second. The elastic tightening, making it harder to breathe.
Adam.
He made it. A small, bobbing dot in the sea. He was talking to someone – I couldn’t quite make out if it was a man or a woman, an adult or, as Adam had feared, a child, but they were not moving. They didn’t know him like I did. They didn’t trust him.
He had only been gone a short while but it felt like forever.
Please, I urged, not sure if I was willing the person to get into the water or Adam to turn around and come back. Both, I think.
Please.
But they didn’t move. The yacht shifted dramatically. Almost completely on its side. I couldn’t bear to watch but I couldn’t turn away from it either.
No. Please. No.
The elastic-band ball inside of my chest had exploded when I saw, with horror, what was happening. Short, sharp, snaps to my heart.
The steel pole in the centre of the yacht was falling, falling directly onto Adam.
I screamed his name.
My roar was so deep, so painful, I was sure my baby must have heard it. Felt it. I covered my mouth with my hands as the pole hit Adam.
He disappeared under the water.
I couldn’t breathe while I waited for him to resurface.
He didn’t.
My boy from the bar was gone.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Adam
There was a blow to my skull. The taste of blood in my mouth. Colours bright and dull. Light and dark. A kaleidoscope of pain.
Water, in my mouth and eyes.
Water, in my nose and ears.
My arms and legs flailed. I was sinking deeper and deeper. Dizzy. Disorientated. My lungs burning, chest tight.
The water morphed from blue to grey to almost black. I was spinning. Twisting in the sea, everything about to explode. My skull. My rib cage. Body burning.
Anna.
I tried to swim but I felt so odd.
Couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t force my legs to kick their way to the surface.
I was sinking. Heavy. A mass of pain and regret and fear.
I was drowning but, rather than my life flashing before me, there was only one thought in my head.
Anna.
I was heavy and light and here but not.
Drifting. Drifting. My arms and legs splayed.
I was weightless.
A feeling of calm washed over me.
And then I felt nothing at all.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Anna
Adam.
I couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not when our future was at last bright and glittering with all the things we had dreamed of.
Adam.
How could I ever have thought that I didn’t want him anymore?
I did.
Oh, how I did.
The other swimmers had reached the yacht and were diving under, resurfacing without him.
Adam.
The beach had lost its colour. Its noise. Holidaymakers static and silent, staring out to sea like mannequins.
‘He’s got him!’ someone shouted. Adam’s head surfaced and a sob clawed up my throat.
‘Bring him back,’ I screamed, beckoning with both hands, quickly, quickly.