TALIA
Just get through it. Only an hour and we’ll be on land.
She was desperate to go below deck, close the door to her cabin and keep her distance from the others until they reached Raiatea.
But now the weather had started to turn, and Johanna was insisting everyone stayed together in the salon.
The timing couldn’t be worse. Still shivering, she was sitting here, clutching on for dear life, trapped in the same room as the man she’d wanted so badly to escape from.
She held on more tightly as the yacht tilted to one side now; an electronic humming sound rose in volume from the engine room two decks beneath her.
The Lusso sounded it like it was straining to stay upright.
Through the panoramic windows, the normally flat horizon was rising and dipping again as the swells lifted the yacht’s bow, then lowered it again, like a slow, graceful nod.
She could recall every detail in those images now – and, of course, in the picture he’d sent two months ago that had changed everything. The picture he’d sent that had shown her how wrong she’d got it all. How badly she’d messed up.
Talia remembered her surprise when the notification popped up with a photo attached, only hours after they’d seen each other.
They never usually messaged right after meeting.
As soon as they’d both come and she’d peeled herself away from him, the shame of what she’d done would hit her in a brutal, crushing wave.
She’d spend the next twenty-four hours in a state of overwhelming guilt, trying to make up for her appalling betrayal by taking extra special care of Rory with smiles and home-made dinners and streams of ego-massaging compliments.
But that day, when Talia saw he’d sent a photo, she knew she had to open it. It was an image of a white and gold luxury yacht – the same yacht she was now sitting on, dipping and rolling in a South Pacific squall. Underneath it were the words: Our first holiday?
The audacity of him. How dare he? He should have turned the opportunity down, not even considered it.
She’d tried to reason with him – she’d called him straight away to try to beg him, plead with him not to accept the invitation.
When he hadn’t picked up – because of course he hadn’t; they had a rule never to call each other without planning the time in advance – she’d left him a voice note, saying it was too dangerous, that it was reckless for both of them.
That he simply couldn’t come on the trip.
Because what else could she have done? Getting him to change his mind had been her only option.
Rory would never have accepted her not wanting to go – she’d shown so much enthusiasm about the trip already, and he knew she’d had the dates booked in for months by then.
Equally, if she’d tried to talk to Rory about who he’d invited along – to get her husband to offer the place to someone else – he’d have been baffled, or worse, suspicious: it was none of her business who came on his bonus trips.
She’d got a response to her voice note five minutes later. You’re joking, right? Turn down the trip of a lifetime – and with you on board? No chance. And then another: Don’t even try to talk me out of it. Nothing’s going to stop me from coming.
So she’d had no choice in the end. Going ahead with it was her only option. She’d had to come on the trip, with both her husband and her secret lover on board. She’d had to share the same living space as both men, breathe the same air.
She’d given in to just one electrifying, thrilling moment with him – right here in the salon on their second night here. And look what had happened! They’d been so stupid, right underneath the cameras; the crew had almost certainly seen it. That momentary slip could have cost her everything.
Ever since then, the tension within her had felt unbearable; and now, here in the salon with her husband and the man she’d been cheating on him with … she thought she might implode before all this was over.
She startled as Eleni let out a yell at a particularly aggressive roll of the waves – her scream audible even over the crashing and rumbling of the yacht.
‘Are you all right?’ Johanna called across to her.
Eleni responded with a feeble nod. Talia studied her for a moment.
Eleni was a beautiful woman, really quite lovely, even bare-faced and pale as she was now.
She usually wore a lot of make-up – but not today.
Without it, she looked years younger, and more vulnerable somehow.
Talia noticed deep grey hollows beneath her eyes.
‘Please don’t be alarmed – we’re used to this kind of weather, and the Lusso will have no problem getting through it,’ Johanna reassured her. ‘We can’t be too far out from Raiatea now, anyway. I promise the captain has this under control.’
‘Doesn’t seem very under control to me,’ mumbled Nick.
‘Oh, poppycock,’ Rory yelled right into Talia’s ear; she instinctively cupped a hand over it to cover it. ‘This is nothing – just a small squall. Don’t know what all the fuss is about.’
Talia wanted him – all of them – to be quiet, to just bloody shut up.
But a split second later, right after another of the boat’s violent turns, an enormous wave – higher than the yacht itself, or at least that’s how it looked to Talia – belted against the boat like a wall of concrete with a deep, thunderous crash.
There was a piercing yell from the control room above them – then seconds later, the Lusso’s lights went out, leaving the salon and the deck outside, as far as Talia could see, in a murky, grey gloom.
A burst of hot fear slammed Talia’s chest; for a second, it felt as though she couldn’t breathe.
‘What was that? What’s happening?’ It was Eleni; at the same time, Lucy spoke over her in fear: ‘Why have the lights gone out?’
Johanna snapped into immediate action. ‘Please don’t panic.
It’ll just be a brief outage – most likely caused by that wave.
A small amount of salt water might have infiltrated the engine room and touched the generator.
It can happen in intense squalls like this one, but it’ll be short-lived – the battery-operated back-ups should kick in as soon as we can get them started. ’
The group visibly relaxed at her words. Talia tried to breathe too, to steady herself.
This wasn’t a disaster – like Johanna kept saying, everything was under control.
The sun was still up, and the thick swirl of clouds directly above them wasn’t able to block out all the daylight.
The lights would be back before total darkness set in.
She tried out the sensation of Johanna’s words in her head, thinking of her own life, the mess she was in. This will be short-lived. Try not to panic. Everything’s under control. She only wished she could believe it.
‘Well,’ boomed Rory, startling her. ‘This is quite the adventure, isn’t it? Not sure any of us were prepared for a rendition of The Tempest on our summer holidays. Ha!’
His words fell flat. No one laughed; no one smiled.
No one was in the mood for making light of their current situation, least of all Talia: she felt sick, and she was uncomfortable, and she felt guilty and afraid.
But the lack of response riled him, and moments later, Rory started to huff and mutter next to her, writhing and twisting on the sofa.
‘I’m afraid I’ve had about enough of this,’ he said.
‘I refuse to sit here in the gloom on a faulty yacht – with no damn Wi-Fi while I’m trying to send an email – and all because of a bit of bloody bad weather.
I’m going to find the captain.’ He stumbled to his feet, lurching and wobbling through the centre of the seating area, arms flailing then grabbing onto the railings around the stairwell.
‘Rory, don’t!’ Talia called after him. ‘You’ll hurt yourself – please!’ She tried to grab his hand as he walked away, but he flung it loose.
‘Mr Ashworth, for your own safety, it’s really best if you—’ Johanna’s words fell on deaf ears; Rory had already staggered past her and started up the stairs towards the bridge.
He can be such a reckless idiot. With Rory out of the room, Talia shifted on the sofa and edged further from Nick and Eleni. Turning her back on them both, she dug her phone out of her handbag. She read the text that had just come through, unblinking:
I need to see you. Come and find me below deck when this is over.
A nauseating thrill jolted her stomach, sloshing with the tonic water she’d been drinking to cope with the rough seas.
She stared at the text for a long moment, then closed her messages and shoved her phone back into her bag. No. She wouldn’t go and find him when this was over – of course she wouldn’t. It was too risky.
There was a loud thump from the deck above; then a muffled cry. Talia knew that voice. Rory. She leapt to her feet on instinct, but the roiling of the yacht threw her back onto her seat with force. She landed with a painful thud to the back of her hips. ‘Ouch!’
‘Are you all right?’ Mark called across to her.
Tears stung at the back of Talia’s eyes. No, she wasn’t all right. Not by a long stretch. She was a maelstrom of fear and desire and regret and yearning. But now she had more immediate concerns. She shook her head. ‘Did anyone else hear that? That thump. I think Rory might have fallen …’
Johanna’s radio crackled to life, the captain’s voice just audible through the static and the slamming of the waves. ‘Johanna, Johanna. Assistance required in control room for the primary. Small amount of bleeding to facial area. Please bring your first aid kit.’
Frowning and shaking her head, Johanna got to her feet with impressive steadiness.
It amazed Talia that despite a violent squall, an electrical blackout and a guest injury, Johanna remained business as usual.
She must be trained for it, but still. She took keep calm and carry on to a whole new level.
Johanna looked at Talia. ‘It doesn’t sound serious – I’m sure he’ll be all right. Please stay in your seats. We’ll be through the squall in a few more minutes.’
Talia closed her eyes. It was dangerous, trying to walk around the boat in these conditions – Rory had just made that clear. She’d stay put until they were free to move again, then head down to her cabin and keep her distance from everyone.
Soon, the worst of the battering wind started to quieten; the yacht’s violent motions began to lessen until it became relatively still on the water again. Thank God. They must be through the worst of it.
A moment later, there were footsteps on the staircase: Johanna and Brett were making their way carefully down from the bridge, Rory supported between them.
He looked at Talia and smiled sheepishly as he reached the salon.
‘Managed to scrape my cheek on the side of the captain’s desk.
Johanna’s bandaged it up for me. I’m sorry, darling – that’ll teach me to ignore a woman’s orders. ’
Talia sighed with relief. ‘I’m just glad you’re all right. But yes, that wasn’t your finest move.’ She smiled at him and shook her head indulgently.
‘We’re going to settle Rory below deck on a massage bed in the treatment room – it’s the closest thing we’ve got to a first aid room,’ said Johanna.
‘He should be fine after a bit of rest and some painkillers. Talia, please stay where you are for a little longer – when the sea is calmer, you can come down and check on him.’
Talia dipped her head and watched as they led Rory through the salon and towards the treatment room. A moment later, Brett reappeared.
‘A quick update for you, folks,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry about the cut to our power. The captain can manage without me for now, so I’m heading down to the engine room to get the back-up generator started. It shouldn’t take me too long, providing the seawater didn’t get to it.’
Thank God.
Brett paused, then added: ‘We, er, unfortunately got blown somewhat off course by the squall. So it’s going to take us a little longer to reach Raiatea – another hour or two, still.
You might not get much daylight there, but you’ll still have the evening.
’ He shrugged apologetically, then made his way below deck.
Talia tried to focus on just breathing. Everything is under control. The lights would turn back on any minute; they’d anchor safely at Raiatea in only a couple of hours. They’d be close to shore well before it got dark, even if the back-up generator didn’t kick in.
She touched the edges of her phone in her handbag. Perhaps, before she left, she would see her lover one last time – tell him her decision, face to face. That would be more appropriate, wouldn’t it? That was the grown-up thing to do.
It was almost over. Soon she could fly home and leave all this chaos behind her.