Chapter 20
When I surface, I hear much yelling and shouting. I search for Matteo and spot him doing the same. Relief floods his face when he sees me bobbing up and down.
‘Stay there. I’ll come get you!’ he yells.
It’s hard to know what’s happening. I swallow a huge gulp of salty sea as the waves crash over my head.
Matteo swims over, pointing to the cause of the waves.
A speedboat manned by lunatics is dangerously close to snorkellers, families in kayaks and paddleboarders, many of whom have been thrown into the sea like us.
The lifeguards are blowing whistles from the beach and people are waving angrily at the revellers on board.
Music is pumping out of the boat, and they seem oblivious.
‘Dickheads,’ Matteo says, grabbing my life jacket to pull me to him. ‘You okay? Enough drama for you? Bet you’re loving it.’
He’s got a dangerous twinkle in his eye as though he’s enjoying this moment. Our noses are practically touching. His eyes are glistening and dark. His arm feels like a vice. Without thinking, I hook my legs around his waist and cling to him. Our life jackets are taking most of our weight.
It’s one of those special moments that will be recorded in my memory banks and replayed over and over. It may even be deserving of its own eighties-style power ballad.
A scream alerts us to danger, and we see a young girl, at the top of the slide on a large pedalo, knocked into the sea as the waves throw it off balance.
The parents and young siblings scream as she’s pulled under.
Both Matteo and I instinctively swim over to help.
The large pedalo looms above us, rocking out of control.
Children are panicking and clutching on to the sides.
The parents struggle to get out of the seats as it causes more imbalance.
Everything happens in slow motion. The parents are screaming.
‘Where is she? Where is she? Lucie! Lucie!’
The pedalo is too close to us, pounding down with such a force it makes it difficult to stay above the waves, and we are in danger of being sucked underneath.
A terrifying wall of sea rises up and curls away, the white foam making it impossible to see anything below its surface.
I thrash my arms to swim away from the boat bashing down beside me when I spot something pink under the water.
It’s the child’s life jacket.
She’s hidden amongst the thrashing waves.
I reach under to haul her up to me. The girl must only be about three.
Her eyes are wide with fear as she coughs out some water.
She feels tiny in my arms and she’s instinctively clawing at my head to reach above the water, which pushes me under.
My life jacket is giving me some much-needed buoyancy but between the waves crashing over our heads and the sheer panic of the situation, I’m fearing for our lives.
Matteo spots us both struggling to keep our heads above water and reaches us in seconds.
He tries to pull the girl from me but she’s clinging on to me too tightly.
We swim her over to the pedalo, but it’s too choppy and dangerous to lift her on board.
The hard plastic is a ton weight as it smashes against the waves.
The parents are screaming, the girl is crying, the speedboat is thundering past unaware that it’s creating tidal waves of panic as it circles around us.
‘Matteo!’ I shout, pointing to the jet ski, which has floated away from us. He slices through the water over to it. After a few attempts, he makes it up on board and drives it towards us, wave after wave beating him back.
The waves make it difficult to swim towards him, especially as I can only use one arm, the other clamped to the girl.
It takes some effort to fight the continual surge of waves and I’m instantly tired once we reach the jet ski.
I make several failed attempts to clamber on board as Matteo struggles to keep balance.
Luckily, he puts his magnificent strong arms to good use and reaches down to pull up first the little girl and then me as though we weigh nothing at all.
I clutch her closely, making sure she’s okay.
‘It’s okay,’ I croon in her ear. ‘I’ve got you. I’ve got you.’
She sags against me, exhausted. Matteo signals to the pedalo to go ashore.
The coastguard races towards us to check if we need assistance before they speed off to administer a severe reprimand to the irresponsible louts on the speedboat.
A kayak with two lifeguards comes over to help guide everyone back to the beach.
There’s much crying when we reunite the little girl with her family.
The parents are beyond thankful to us. The father shakes our hands many times, repeating over and over how grateful he is.
The mother is clamping the child to her while the siblings cling to her legs.
A whole crowd of sun worshippers has gathered to help lug the pedalo out of the water, and more lifeguards have raced over to offer support.
Matteo and I step back to let them recover. My legs are wobbling and I’m swaying slightly as my muscles go weak.
‘You were magnificent,’ he says, reaching out a hand to steady me.
I gawp back unattractively. No one has ever said that to me before, ever. Water is dripping down from my hair as I stare back at him.
‘So are you,’ I say, catching myself. ‘So were you.’
‘You’re a very strong swimmer,’ he says. ‘The way you coped with those waves. The way you dived under to save her. That was awesome. And when Cherry fell off the yacht, you went straight in to get her without hesitation. You’re fearless.’
Me, fearless? This makes me instinctively embarrassed. I’m nothing of the sort.
‘The way you got back to the jet ski and lifted us to safety,’ I say, throwing the spotlight back on him. ‘Totally awesome. Unbelievable upper-body strength. Incredible. You’re the one who’s fearless.’
I sound like I’m about to give him marks out of ten.
I force myself not to stare at his body glistening in the sun, his shorts clinging to his muscular legs.
His biceps are bulging like small watermelons, and his wet hair is dripping down his tanned face.
He’s simply heroic-looking. There’s no other way to put it.
‘I mean it. You are very brave,’ Matteo says.
‘No. No, I’m really not. I swim to build up lung capacity, you know?
To hold the notes,’ I say quickly. This whole episode has my nerves on end.
He cocks his head to one side. He’s giving no indication as to warrant further explanation, but I just can’t seem to play it cool.
‘Take the soprano octaves. They can be especially tricky. It took years of practice, but I can now hold my breath for nearly five minutes.’
It seems like Matteo doesn’t know what to do with this piece of trivia in the midst of all this high-level drama.
‘Are you feeling okay?’ he says, stepping towards me.
My jabbering on, repeating his words back at him, seems to instantly defuse the tension and I see the admiration quickly replaced with worry.
No, I am not okay. I think I may be in some state of shock.
‘We should celebrate or something,’ I say, managing to make it sound inappropriate, like we’ve won first prize in a hot-dog-eating contest rather than having just saved a child’s life.
Yes, definitely a mild form of PTSD.
Matteo nods his head. ‘Maybe we should return the jet ski first and discuss partying later?’
When we eventually make it back to the marina, Nacho and his friends are nowhere to be seen.
Matteo climbs off the jet ski, turning to help me clamber off.
We lock eyes for a moment as he lowers me into the shallow water so that we can walk up the ramp.
I feel his hand at my back keeping me steady.
We have undergone yet another unique life-changing experience which binds us.
Maybe these coincidences are more meaningful than we care to admit.
When he says nothing, it strikes me that perhaps we no longer need actual words to discuss the enormity of our bravery.
We can simply appreciate one another’s greatness with silence and hidden looks.
‘See you later?’ I eventually say to Matteo as casually as I can. I feel my skin burning at the effort to remain outwardly calm.
‘Sure,’ he says, gently pressing the back of his hand to the stiletto-shaped cut on his head. ‘I’ll wear a full suit of armour just in case. Do you need a lift?’
‘Thanks, but I’ll walk. I think I need to decompress.’ I’m suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion as I unbuckle my life jacket and head to the kiosk to get my things.
The kiosk is empty, so I spot my bag on a shelf almost immediately.
I’m just about to reach down for it when quite out of the blue, the air leaves my lungs like a punch to the stomach.
I feel my legs turn to jelly and a great swell of fear grabs hold of me at the enormity of what just happened.
I lean against the shelf. My mind has suddenly become filled with terror at how easily a life can be snuffed out.
In a split second, that tiny child could have been dragged under the boat and out to sea on a riptide.
What if I hadn’t been there to spot her?
What if we’d left the cave just a minute earlier and been back in the marina with the others?
What if we’d never heard Cherry fall overboard?
Suddenly, my body trembles at the fragility of life.
The terrified look in the child’s eyes takes me back to when my mother was sick.
Her eyes were permanently haunted. I could never make that look go away no matter how much I assured her she would get better.
I press a fist to my mouth to stop any sound escaping and hunch down to wait until this awful feeling passes. My body is wracked by silent sobs.
A noise startles me. Matteo is filling the doorway.
He reaches me in three strides and his face softens instantly as he crouches down and pulls me to him.
His hand smooths my hair, and the other gently strokes my back until my silent heaving settles.
He cradles me in his arms until I’m ready to stand up.
He says nothing as he leads me away from the kiosk and over to his lady scooter parked by the marina and takes me home.
We are both exhausted. He helps me off the moped when we get to the villa and holds me close.
‘Sure you’re up to performing later?’ he says, his face full of understanding and compassion.
‘Nancy will kill me if I mess this up. I’m fine now. I think I just needed to get the shock out of my system.’
‘Totally understandable. That was a big deal. I feel shaken myself.’ Matteo exhales slowly. ‘Life can turn on a dime, as they say.’
‘She could have died. We could have died.’
Matteo reaches out to take my fingers lightly in his and we share a moment that feels so tender, so loaded with understanding. When he pulls me in for a hug, I can almost feel him transferring some sort of strength to me. After a long while, he steps back.
‘I’ll handle Nancy if you need to duck out. I’m sure she’ll understand.’
Well, he could try. Nancy has been in the business for thirty years. She is a tough nut to crack. And besides, she’s had quite enough of my ‘woe is me’-ing.
‘Wait. Is that why you were on my flight? You’d been in Newcastle to meet with Nancy?’
He nods. ‘And seeing some potential acts. I could try to find a replacement for you. You look like you need to rest.’
‘Thanks, but I’m fine. I need to do it, and I promise there’ll be no more drama,’ I say to reassure him. ‘We’ll be on our best behaviour. Totally professional.’
I see the corner of his mouth raise into a smile.
He doesn’t believe me in the slightest. Overwhelming desire and adoration for how sensitive he’s being ooze from my every pore as I wait for him to kiss me.
It feels like a kissing moment. The situation calls for one of those high-intensity, emotionally charged kisses that set your soul on fire.
My eyelids flutter to an attractive close as I wait.
And wait.
My eyes spring open.
Apparently, I’m very much in the minority because Matteo holds me at arm’s length and says, ‘Take care then.’
He throws a leg over his scooter and takes off.
My mouth is hanging open.
Take care then?
Take friggin’ care then?
‘Take care’ is what you say to a friend, to your grandma, to the fella in the shop behind the counter.
He must think I’m a raving lunatic. I’ve blown it.
Spain’s most handsome man is friend-zoning me because I’m an emotional wreck – which he is not finding sexy.
Let’s face it, the list of reasons not to be interested in me could be endless.
I am beyond frustrated with myself. But most of all, I am tired of always being sad. I need to find a way to live with it so that it doesn’t swamp everything I do.