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Sarah shook her head. ‘Reality never measures up. Sex is overrated.’
‘You’ve never been in love properly, that’s all.’
‘Nobody ever hangs around long enough for that to happen.’
It was Tori’s turn to do the head-shaking. ‘If you have to wait that long, or try and force it, then it’s not going to happen. You’re trying the wrong person. I think it—or at least the definite possibility of it—happens right from the first moment you see them.’
‘Like Ben?’
‘Oh, yes. He’d be very easy to fall in love with. That’s why I think he’d be good for you.’
‘Why would I want to fall in love with someone I’m only going to be around for a week?’
‘Practice.’ Tori grinned. ‘That way, when you get those funny butterfly flutters in your tummy next time, you’ll recognise them.’
Sarah laughed. ‘It would take a darn sight more than a twinge of lust to convince me. If you want to play with Dr Dawson, you go right ahead. Just leave me out of it.’
‘But he’s expecting you to come on this visit to the village tomorrow. He was most insistent that I persuade you to come with us.’
‘He’ll get over it.’
‘But what are you going to do while I’m gone?’
‘Swim,’ Sarah said decisively. ‘A real swim, not just splashing around on the shoreline. I might head for one of the other islands. Some of them are only a kilometre or two away.’
‘But what about sharks?’
‘I’ll try not to bleed in the water and attract them.’
Tori shuddered visibly. ‘Rather you than me. I’d stay close enough to the shore to get to safety if I were you.’
‘You’re not me. That’s the whole point. While you’re away doing something you want to do, I can do things I want to do that don’t interest you. It’s perfect. We’ll both enjoy ourselves. And we’ll both survive, I promise.’
Tori turned, her face a picture of enlightenment. ‘Ben is your shark,’ she said. ‘Isn’t he?’
Sarah just smiled. ‘Shall we have a quick swim in the dark before we go to bed?’
‘You can’t see sharks in the dark.’
‘We’ll stay very close to the shore.’
Tori giggled. ‘And we won’t bleed.’
‘Definitely not.’
‘OK. On one condition.’
‘What’s that?’
‘If I’m prepared to risk my shark then you have to risk yours. The next time Ben asks you to spend some time with him, you have to say yes.’
‘Not tomorrow. I really want a proper swim.’
‘The time after that, then.’
‘Sure.’ It was a safe enough agreement. Sarah would bet Ben Dawson had more than enough experience to know where any pay-off was likely to be. After she refused to accompany them to the village tomorrow, he would get the message she wasn’t interested and focus on Tori. And that way Sarah would be free to focus on enjoying every moment of the paradise she was discovering.
* * *
It just didn’t get any better than this.
The sea was calm enough to be masquerading as the world’s biggest swimming pool. Cool enough to be refreshing and allow the best physical workout Sarah had had in a long time. Treading water for a minute, Sarah shaded her eyes over the snorkelling mask she was wearing and took her bearings again to make sure she was still heading in the right direction.
It was just as well she had discussed her intentions with Nasoya, the man who looked after the diving equipment at the resort, when she had gone to borrow a mask and flippers. Her first choice of island was out of bounds, being the ‘honeymoon’ island. A tiny dot in the Pacific Ocean, it boasted an acre of palm forest and a single beach. Honeymooners could be dropped off, along with a luxury picnic, to spend the day in total privacy on an island of their own, and no one else could visit when it was being used.
So Sarah was heading for a larger island a little further away. This had a small village on it that supported itself growing sugar cane, and while Nasoya was impressed with Sarah’s energy he was much happier knowing that there would be a boat available to bring her back if she changed her mind about swimming. He would let the village know she was coming, he told her, and she could have something to eat and drink there if she wished.
The invitation was becoming more attractive after the effort of nearly an hour’s swimming. Sarah could see waves breaking near the entrance to the lagoon of the new island. There were fishing boats dotted sparsely nearby and Sarah could finally see the white strip of sand that marked her finishing point. A rest in the sun and maybe a fresh coconut with the top lopped off so she could drink the milk would be heaven.
The small, canoe-like boat with three children on board was on the sea side of the lagoon entrance and Sarah watched the boy in charge gauging which wave to catch to carry them through. He looked about nine or ten years old and seemed far too young for such a responsibility, but maybe island children grew up fast. There was another boy on board and a little girl who looked barely more than a toddler. Sarah trod water again briefly, looking over her shoulder as she wondered whether there was a parent in one of the nearby fishing boats, but they were all too far away to seem associated with the children.
The older boy chose a wave and paddled furiously to get ahead of it. The water surged behind the boat, lifting it up and pushing it forward. The small girl shrieked with delight as their speed increased but Sarah could feel her heart miss a beat. Sure enough, the boy’s paddling wasn’t strong enough to keep the boat in a straight line. It tipped sideways as the wave broke and to Sarah’s horror the boat overturned and the three children vanished beneath a layer of white foam.
For several heartbeats she could see nothing. The wave was spent. The fishing boats were still bobbing at a distance. The island backdrop looked like paradise and the lagoon was still. And empty. Sarah could almost think she had imagined the whole scene. Then an object surfaced from the still water beyond the waves. A smooth object.
The hull of an overturned boat.
There was no time or breath to waste on exclamations of dismay. Sarah was swimming for all she was worth now. She needed to catch a wave at the right point herself so that she didn’t end up on the dangerous coral reef that bordered the lagoon. Using the powerful overarm stroke that had won competitions in her school days, Sarah got ahead of the next wave forming and stayed with it as it carried her through the gap. The breaking surf pushed her below the surface for what seemed far too long and she shot up finally to catch her breath and start a frantic visual sweep of the calm water around her.
The older boy was still in the water, trying to help the younger one climb on top of the slippery boat hull. He was shouting and someone must have heard over the sound of the surf because more than one fishing boat was now heading in their direction. But where was the other child?
Sarah swam towards the boat. ‘Where is she?’ she called.
The boys both turned. Both looked frightened and neither answered her. Maybe they couldn’t understand her. She took just another second to check that both these children were clinging onto the boat well enough to keep themselves safe and then she turned, desperately searching the surface of the lagoon for any sign of the small girl. She would be floating...unless she was drowning, in which case she would be under the water and not on top of it.
Sarah dived and swam using a rapid breaststroke. Thank goodness the water was so clear. She could see the colours of the coral bed, the startling shapes of sea anemones and the astonishing diversity of the swarms of fish. There were so many fish it made it difficult to see anything else, in fact. Forced to surface, Sarah dragged in a huge gulp of air and then used her flippers to push down and reach the depths of the lagoon again.
It was harder to hold her breath this time. Looking ahead as far as she could, Sarah swam doggedly forward, unaware of the extraordinary beauty of her surroundings, totally focussed on finding something she couldn’t see. The burning in her lungs forced her upwards again and this time she had to take several painful gasps of air.
A fishing boat had reached the boys now and they were being pulled aboard. Another boat was riding the crest of a wave into the lagoon and Sarah could hear shouting from the shore. Islanders were gathering and some were running into the water. They would find the child with such numbers searching but it could well be too late by then. Sarah dragged in as much air as she could and went under the water again.
She didn’t swim forward this time. She stayed in one spot and turned slowly, scanning a full three hundred and sixty degrees, concentrating on areas that were obscured by the tendrils of sea plants.
And there she was. The little girl was floating just above the coral, looking for all the world as though she was peacefully asleep except that her eyes were wide open. Sarah’s heart lurched painfully enough to compete with the agony of lungs screaming for air but the surge of adrenaline was enough to propel her towards the small body. It was no real effort to take hold of the limp form and drag it towards the surface. Please, God, she cried silently, don’t let me be too late.
It wasn’t possible to do more than try a couple of breaths while she was in the water but somehow Sarah summoned the energy to swim rapidly to shore, towing the child under one arm. The villagers fell silent as she ran through the shallows and they stepped back when she laid the girl on the damp sand, opened her airway and felt for a pulse. A woman wailed—a high keening sound that conveyed the very clear message that they knew it was too late.
But it wasn’t. Sarah could feel a faint carotid pulse. She covered the girl’s mouth and nose with her own and transferred a breath. And then another. Her fingers searched the small neck for a pulse again and were rewarded with a stronger beat. And then the limp form of the child twitched. A dark tangle of eyelashes fluttered and her mouth opened. Sarah turned her onto her side at the gagging sound she made and then held the little girl as her body convulsed, expelling the astonishing amount of water that had been swallowed, until the vomiting gave way to a distressed crying.
Sarah had never been happier to hear the sound of a miserable child. She rocked the girl in her arms, knowing that she had tears on her face and a stupidly wide grin as she looked up to find someone better able to give comfort.
There was more than comfort to be found. Both Sarah and the children were whisked back to the village to be fussed over in an atmosphere of having been part of a miracle. Once the small girl was wrapped in a blanket and happily asleep in her mother’s arms, Sarah became the total focus of the islanders’ attention. She could understand very little of what was being said but it was obvious she had made friends for life on this island.
An hour later, with wreaths of flowers crowding her neck, a pile of gifts at her feet and an array of food and drink she couldn’t possibly have coped with, Sarah was relieved to see a new arrival at the village. Somebody had contacted Nasoya, from the dive centre at the resort, and he had come with a boat to collect her. There was no way she could have managed the return swim, quite apart from the pile of gifts. The rescue had been physically exhausting and the emotional aftermath had left her simply wanting to curl up and sleep.
Nasoya wasn’t the only arrival, however. Just behind him came two figures that Sarah had certainly not expected to see.
‘News travels fast in these parts,’ Ben told her. ‘How does it feel to be a heroine?’
Sarah extracted herself from Tori’s hug. ‘Tiring.’ She smiled. ‘Can you check on little Milika? She seems OK but she came very close to drowning and she may well have some fluid in her lungs.’
‘That’s what I’m here for.’ Ben held up the kit he was carrying. ‘I just wanted to check that you were all right first.’
‘I’m fine,’ Sarah assured them both. ‘All I need is a quiet spot in the sun to rest.’
A short time later the boat sped back to the resort island over a calm sea that gave no hint of the kind of horror it had engendered only a short time ago. Sarah sat quietly, still exhausted but very happy. Ben had examined Milika thoroughly and pronounced her none the worse for her ordeal.
‘It was a dry drowning, thank goodness. First hint of cold water gave her laryngeal spasm. I doubt that even a drop got into her lungs. She must have swallowed a fair bit, though.’
‘She did. I’ve never seen such a small child throw up such a large quantity of fluid.’
‘All she needs now is a good rest. As you do.’ Ben’s glance had only been that of a concerned physician, so why did it feel like so much more? ‘Are you sure you don’t need a check-up?’
Sarah turned away, flushing with something rather more than embarrassment. ‘I’m sure. I’ll spend the afternoon resting and I’ll be absolutely fine.’
When they arrived back at the resort’s landing jetty, Tori helped to gather up the gifts, which included a traditional grass skirt.
‘I can just see you in this,’ she told Sarah. ‘It’s gorgeous.’
‘You’ll be able to wear it tonight,’ Ben added.
Sarah turned at his confident tone. ‘Why?’
‘Didn’t you hear all the planning going on around you? There’s going to be a huge party to celebrate. There’ll be two or three villages involved by the time all the friends and relatives get the news.’
‘I can’t go to something like that,’ Sarah protested. ‘It’s their celebration.’
‘They’re doing it to honour you,’ Ben said. His dark eyes caught and held Sarah’s. ‘You saved the life of a child, Sarah. They’re doing this to thank you.’
‘But—’
‘They’ve already killed a pig,’ Tori put in. She shuddered. ‘I saw them choosing the fattest one they could find and then leading it away.’
‘They’ll roast the pig,’ Ben said. ‘But most of the food will be cooked in a traditional underground oven. A lovo. It’s an experience not everyone gets.’
‘But—’
‘I’ll come and collect you at seven o’clock.’ Ben was still holding Sarah’s gaze.
‘You’re coming, too?’ Suddenly, the invitation was much less daunting.
‘Of course.’ Ben’s smile looked almost smug. ‘I’ve been delegated to accompany you so, please, don’t embarrass me by refusing to come.’
Tori aimed a gentle kick at Sarah’s ankle. ‘Sharks,’ she murmured.
Ben looked nonplussed. ‘You don’t have to worry about sharks,’ he said. ‘There’ll be a lot of boats going over.’ His grin was disarming. ‘We don’t expect you to swim.’
‘Am I invited?’ Tori asked.
‘Of course.’ But Ben was still watching Sarah. ‘It won’t be much of a party without a guest of honour, though. How ’bout it, Sarah?’
‘Were you serious? About me wearing the grass skirt?’
‘It’s up to you. You’re an honorary member of that village for the rest of your life and they’ll be dressed up. They’d be very proud if you did wear it.’
Ben’s gaze suggested he would be proud as well and Sarah found herself nodding.
‘OK, then. We’ll see you at seven o’clock.’
* * *
‘You’re not really going to wear it, are you?’ Tori eyed the wrap-around skirt dubiously. ‘It’s awfully see-through when you move.’
‘I’ll wear something underneath.’ The deep sleep Sarah had had for several hours that afternoon had revived her completely. Now showered, with her hair washed and gleaming softly as she brushed it dry in the sun, she was ready for the new experience that the evening promised to offer. Not only ready, she was going to embrace it completely. ‘I’ll wear it over that red skirt I’ve got.’
The mid-calf-length, soft muslin skirt was perfect. Cut in flared panels, it fitted closely around Sarah’s hips and widened to drape in folds that did nothing to interfere with the fall of the dried grass of the island skirt she fastened on top. The flash of colour that showed when she moved was pleasing and Sarah chose a simple white halter-neck top to go with it.
‘Sandals?’ Tori was fishing around in the bottom of their wardrobe. ‘Do you want the dressy ones or your flipflops?’
‘I’m going barefoot,’ Sarah told her.
‘Cool. I will, too, then. Just as well we painted our toenails.’
Sarah pushed a headband into place to hold her hair back from her face. Then she tucked a large crimson flower to one side. The left side. She hung one of the many garlands she had been given that morning around her neck.
‘You look like you were born here,’ Tori exclaimed in delight. ‘Especially with your hair loose like that. You should wear it down more often—it’s gorgeous!’
‘It’s much easier to handle if it’s tied up. I couldn’t wear it loose at work.’
‘You don’t spend your whole life at work, you know.’
‘I know. It just feels like it sometimes.’ Sarah grinned as she did a twirl in front of the mirror. Her naturally olive skin had darkened to a rich brown with only a couple of days of the Fijian sun, and amazingly she did look almost like a child of the islands. ‘This doesn’t feel like me at all. It’s dressing up. Part of the fantasy. And I intend to enjoy every minute of it.’
* * *
She had no choice but to enjoy herself. The look on Ben’s face when he arrived to collect them made any effort to look as though she belonged more than worthwhile. He might be a practised flirt and utterly insincere but the admiration was still something that could be appreciated as part of this whole experience. Sarah was made to feel totally desirable with that one glance and it went to her head like a glass of champagne.
The cheer that went up from the islanders waiting in the fleet of small boats added more bubbles to this new effervescent sensation, and when they were gliding over early sunset-gilded waters towards the neighbouring island and a song broke out and spread between the boats, Sarah closed her eyes and sighed from the sheer pleasure of it all.
