Chapter 17 #2
But Emir gives me a long, dark look through his thick lashes before darting off towards his parents and the surge of guests stampeding down the plank.
I sprint after him, calling for him to wait, but there’s such a racket of excitable chatter that my voice is swallowed up in the noise.
Even though I’m horrified that Jackson will see me looking a right state, my priority is getting to Emir.
As I try to barge past everyone and hurry down to the docking area, I spot Garry and the captain.
As I scurry past, I overhear them discussing port fees and witness them signing paperwork.
My mind flies back to university and a particularly fascinating (some of my peers had the cheek to call it dry) lecture on International Water Taxes and Law.
Something niggles in my brain, but I don’t have time for that now.
I charge over to the restaurant hoping to see Emir inside.
At least the entire venue is booked out solely for us, so there shouldn’t be too many people or tables to search.
I spot Emir’s parents immediately. They are right at the front.
Probably so that Emir has a good view. I crane my neck, but I can’t see him.
I swivel my eyes around. His grandmother is sitting with another group on the next table laughing with the giant man from earlier but still no sign of Emir.
My heart sinks as I scan the room, not a child in sight.
An ominous feeling crawls across my skin.
I race to the toilets but there’s no sign of him there either.
Shit, where is he? Suddenly the lights go out, flames soar up into the air forming a ring of fire and three belly dancers run into the centre of the room, wafting huge chiffon veils behind them, to ear-splitting traditional music.
I race back outside to alert the team. I spot Astrid, Shaun and Tiffany not far away. They are staring across to the other side of the marina.
It’s then that I notice Jackson, getting off a dolmus. It stops me in my tracks. The entire LoveIt Holidays team seem in a mad hurry to escape his company and within minutes have disappeared among the crowd of tourists milling about, before I can elicit their help.
I race back up the gang plank onto the boat yelling for Emir.
I throw myself down the stairs and run towards the kitchen.
‘Have you seen Emir?’ I shout to the chefs who are busy cleaning down the benches and giant griddle.
They stop to give me a mystified look. ‘The child. The one who gave you those,’ I say, pointing to the shiny gold chains around their necks. They shake their heads.
I fly down both corridors to check he’s not in any of the rooms. My voice hoarse from yelling his name, I check every cupboard and every place I can think of before leaping back up the spiral stairs two steps at a time.
My heart is pounding with fear as I hurl myself down the plank back towards the dock.
Jackson is walking briskly through the crowd towards the boat.
He catches sight of me, briefly rooting him to the spot, while I’m panting to catch my breath.
Jackson’s expression is hard to read. It might be somewhere between confused and worried.
He is head to toe in a pristine LoveIt Holidays manager’s uniform of short-sleeved white shirt open at the neck, navy blue smart shorts that loosely hug his athletic legs and top-of-the-range white deck shoes.
However, I must remember that I am still furious with him for banishing me to a week on board a luxurious gulet boat with this bunch of crazy lunatics.
And, more importantly, I’m in the middle of a missing persons search.
‘Hi,’ he says, frowning. ‘What’s wrong? Are you okay?’
‘Hi,’ I reply croakily, flying past him, smelling like I’ve come off a double shift at the herring factory and looking like I rolled around in the fish guts before leaving.
‘How’s it going?’ He spins round trying to keep up with me as I search the crowd for Emir.
I indicate my filth-encrusted uniform with a flourish of my hand. I am clearly not living my best life. ‘How do you think it’s going?’
‘I came to see how you are. Can you slow down?’
‘No. I’ve accidently upset the child in my care. I need to find him.’ I hear the panic in my voice.
‘Have you? How? Why?’ he says, sounding slightly disconcerted, scurrying to keep up. ‘Where is he?’
‘No idea. He ran away from me,’ I say, wheezing. ‘I can’t see him. He’s not in the restaurant or on the boat! He must be on the dock somewhere.’
‘He’s missing?’ he says, alarmed.
‘Yes. Missing. Temporarily.’
‘Actually missing?’ Jackson is looking at me as though I’ve asked him to name the last three presidents of Botswana. But when he sees how worried I am, he rallies immediately. ‘Right. I’ll help you. What do you need me to do?’
His thoughtfulness tugs at my heartstrings.
‘Thank you. He’s only five years old.’ A sick feeling churns in my stomach.
‘We’ll find him,’ he says, reaching out to touch my arm. We lock eyes and I find his calm, no-nonsense voice instantly soothing. ‘I’ll alert the team. Have them on standby. What does he look like? What’s his name?’
‘Emir,’ I explain. ‘They all know what he looks like. He’s the son of the couple throwing the party. The team are in there. Meet back here in five?’
Jackson nods agreement and sprints into the restaurant while I race along the side of the marina shouting Emir’s name and checking all of the boats on one side, and the bustling bars and restaurants on the other. The crowd is beginning to thin but there’s still no sign of the boy.
A few minutes later, I double back to see Jackson racing out of the venue with a troubled look on his face. ‘I could only find Tiffany, and she is busy hosting the event with the owner of the restaurant. Where the heck is everyone? It’s like they knew I was coming and they’re hiding from me.’
Bingo. You got it in one, boss man.
‘How could they have known?’ Jackson puts his hands on his hips, eyeing me warily.
‘Doesn’t matter. We don’t have time to debate that now,’ I say. ‘Ninety-eight per cent of missing children are found within the first twenty minutes… so come on. Let’s fan out. We’ll do the left side, then the right.’
‘Sure thing,’ he says, springing into action.
‘What’s he wearing?’ Jackson sprints to match my pace as we duck and dive, checking the jet ski and boat hire kiosks lining the marina.
‘A yellow Scooby Doo T-shirt.’ I feel sick to my bones. I scan the crowd, my eyes laser-focused, up and down, side to side, taking in every detail.
‘Hey,’ Jackson yells over to me as we race around the perimeter of the marina, scanning every boat and restaurant. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll find him.’
I suddenly spot a flash of yellow. Emir is up ahead, his little body weaving in and out of the throng. ‘I think that’s him. Emir! Wait for me!’
Jackson, like lightning, is at my side.
‘Oh Jesus! Thank God! He’s over there,’ I yell, pointing over to a shisha café window. Emir is staring into it, leaning his forehead on the glass.
A tsunami of adrenaline floods my veins with relief. ‘They must sell baklava,’ I explain as we race towards him. ‘He’s obsessed with sugar. He’s become something of an addict.’ Stealing jewellery to feed his habit. ‘Although, that could also be my fault.’
Jackson shakes his head quizzically at me rather than reply.
‘Emir! Emir! Thank goodness you’re okay!’ I shout as we get nearer. Startled, he spins around, and much to my relief, skips happily towards me. He stops just in front of me with a questioning gaze.
I bend down to his level, pull him into a tight hug and take his hands in mine. ‘I was worried sick! I’m so sorry you thought I meant I didn’t want to look after you. I just wanted a few minutes to get changed, that’s all.’
He tilts his head. ‘I know.’
He did?
I’m still gasping for breath. ‘Never, ever run away from me again. Do you promise?’
‘I promise.’ He looks so innocent. ‘You smell very, very bad.’
I’m so relieved I’m not even going to take the hump. ‘Why did you run off like that? We were so worried.’
He glances with an air of suspicion at Jackson. ‘Who is he? Why was he worried about me?’
‘He’s my, erm…’ My latest shag. ‘The, erm, boss here at LoveIt Holidays. He’s Australian.’ Like that’s got anything to do with the price of bread. ‘And he came to the marina to…’ To spy on us. I might as well let Jackson finish the sentence for me while I catch my breath. I glance over at him.
He clears his throat, looking embarrassed. ‘I’m here to see the boat and meet the passengers.’ He extends a hand. ‘Pleased to meet you, Emir. I’m Jackson.’
Emir scrunches his nose while shaking Jackson’s hand politely. ‘I thought you said he was checking spots?’
Ah. Emir has an extraordinary memory for detail. I must remember not to say too much around him.
‘That’s right,’ Jackson says. ‘I’m here to do a spot check. Seems like everyone knew I was coming.’
I shrug guiltily.
‘Why don’t we get you back to your parents, Emir?’ he says softly. ‘Would you like that?’
Emir gives a non-committal shrug.
We head back to the restaurant. ‘How did you even know about the first twenty minutes thing for finding missing children?’ he says.
‘I’m a statistician. It was part of my degree.’
‘I thought you were an almost accountant? Only one point off summa cum laude.’ His attention to detail is very impressive, if a little facetious. I return his smirk with one of my own. It’s very hard to stay annoyed with him when he does kind things and he’s nice to children.
While I work out how I’m going to explain Emir’s late arrival due to me losing him, Jackson walks slightly ahead of us looking for rogue holiday reps.
I hadn’t appreciated how broad his shoulders are or quite how athletic looking he is.
He is in perfect proportion. His gluteus maximus is the best I’ve ever seen.
It’s like watching two bowling balls rubbing together at the top of long, slender legs.
Stop staring at him.
Stop it.
Focus. Honestly, what a time to get distracted!
I glance down to see Emir is giving me a peculiar look. ‘Maddie. Why are you looking at his bum?’ He can barely breathe for giggles. I shush him to be quiet. If anything, it has the opposite effect.
‘Yes, you are. You are staring at his bum!’
Jackson spins round in surprise.
I drag my gaze to meet his. ‘No, I definitely was not. How preposterous. As if I would do such a thing… at such a critical moment… a time of crisis… when we’ve just been…’
Yes. Yes, I was. I should be so ashamed.