Authors: James Dawson
Ryan had sat with Katie, holding her hand throughout. That day had been especially awful for her. After what had gone down at the prom, the judgement had been almost palpable. The whispering
from their classmates hadn’t helped.
‘She’s got some nerve. How can she show her face?’
No matter how many times Ryan had told Katie it wasn’t her fault, he
had still been able to feel her guilt. That was Katie all over – she did the time even if she hadn’t committed the crime.
The grief hadn’t hit Ryan until he’d seen Janey’s mum. Up until that point the funeral had been a spectacle – easily the most dramatic episode they’d ever dared
screen, probably the highest ratings their little soap had ever won. When he saw Mrs Bradshaw, however, her perfect-hostess exterior betrayed by the watery eyes and wavering breaths, it all became
real. Janey wasn’t an actress who’d left the series to film some straight-to-DVD movie; she was
gone.
The crunch of gravel under tyres snapped Ryan back into the moment. This was it. The others had arrived.
Katie left the dishes and turned to the patio doors. ‘Ryan! They’re here!’ She chewed her bottom lip. ‘I’m really nervous.’
He took her hand. ‘Don’t be – it’ll be fine,’ he said, although he couldn’t deny a couple of butterflies of his own. ‘We’re all friends,
remember.’
The pair headed through the lounge and upstairs to the bedroom floor, which was also the entrance level. From the hallway, Ryan could hear the voices on the driveway. The butterflies in his
stomach turned into fireflies and his initial nervousness became excitement. He threw the door open and galloped onto the drive.
A glossy orange jeep, looking like it had come straight from a pop video safari, was parked next to Katie’s rental halfway down the drive. Definitely Greg’s choice, Ryan guessed.
Typical of him to go for the flashiest thing available.
Greg was already unloading suitcases from the boot. His sister, Alisha, struggled out of the back seat, a huge box of rattling bottles on her lap.
She took one look at Ryan and screamed. ‘There he is!’
‘Oh, my God!’ Ryan burst into a run while Katie hung back, seemingly unsure of herself. Alisha placed the box on the drive and threw her arms around him.
‘You look so good!’ Ryan told her. ‘Really, really well.’ Normally, this was something you’d say to an octogenarian recovering from a hip transplant, but in this
case Ryan meant it; Alisha
for once
looked really healthy – i.e. neither wasted nor hungover, which, for her, was quite something. Her tight black curls had been coloured a warm
caramel shade which made her blue eyes sparkle even more than usual next to her light-brown skin.
‘Thank you!’ Alisha grinned. She still had that gorgeous husky voice. ‘As do you, baby boy. Have you been working out?’
Ryan blushed. ‘Yeah. A little.’ Every day, in fact, but he thought it best to play it down.
Alisha moved on to Katie with more screaming. Alisha’s volume button started at about eleven and didn’t turn down.
Greg rolled Alisha’s suitcase towards her before wrapping Katie up in a hug. ‘All right, Katie?’ Greg kissed the top of her head. ‘How’s it going?’
‘I’m good, thanks,’ Katie said, smiling. ‘How are you? Beyond looking insanely buff!’
Greg flexed his biceps for her. ‘Shucks, thanks.’ He winked. Ryan burned with envy. Even a visit to the gym
twice
a day wouldn’t earn him a body like Greg
Cole’s. He had to admire it. Through the cotton of his T-shirt, Ryan could see Greg’s arms, chest, stomach – everything was taut, lean and defined. As a superstar pro footballer,
his body was his career.
There was no mistaking the fact that Greg and Alisha were twins. Equally irresistible, they were poster twins for physical perfection but, if that wasn’t enough, those incredible blue eyes
were
identical.
Greg left Katie and turned to Ryan, who held out his hand. Greg shook it, perhaps a little awkwardly. Ryan didn’t know quite what to say to Greg – he’d not had so much as a
text from him all year. Theatre and football make for odd bedfellows, he figured.
A beautiful girl walked around the bonnet of the jeep. The brunette had a cute crop with a sweeping fringe and long, tanned legs in wedge heels. She was every inch a footballer’s wife in
training. She came to Greg’s side so he could introduce her.
‘Katie, Ryan, this is my girlfriend, Erin. Erin, this is Katie, whose dad owns the villa, and my mate Ryan from school.’
Erin smiled an impossibly white smile. She was incredibly cute, like the queen pixie of Elftown or something. ‘Hi, lovely to meet you both. I’ve heard so much about you.’
Ryan kissed her on both cheeks. ‘Oh, I dread to think!’
‘All the gossip, I’m afraid!’
Ryan grinned. ‘Well, did he tell you about the time he pissed himself in class at primary school because he thought there were ghosts in the boys’ toilets?’
Alisha cackled and Erin snorted. ‘Ha! No, he didn’t,’ she laughed.
While Katie hugged Erin, Greg struck back. ‘Thanks mate! Wait until I get started on how you wrote Miss Forrest a love letter . . .’
‘Dude, the piss story’s worse,’ said the final member of the party as he emerged from behind the jeep, carrying two cases.
Ryan stood back to gain the best and most cinematic view of the Katie and Ben reunion. Time seemed to slow and Ryan swore he saw Katie gulp like she was dry-swallowing a huge pill.
Ben. Somehow he’d grown even more handsome. Ryan and Ben had attended nursery school together – hell, their mums had been pregnant at the same time – so it was impossible for
Ryan to see Ben as anything other than a brother figure. That said, there was
something
about Ben Murdoch. Girls
loved
him. It might be the dimples or the perpetually messy hair.
It could be the lopsided smile or warm chocolate eyes that melted under heavy brows. There was a lot to be said for his broad shoulders, which he always hunched a little, as though he were
self-conscious about how tall he was. He’d used his first year of university to cultivate some stubble and it totally worked. The best thing about Ben, though, was that he genuinely had no
idea how cute he was. Ryan had missed him.
It was as if someone had pressed Pause. An eternity passed while Katie and Ben mirrored each other, standing awkwardly on the drive, hands hanging heavily at their sides.
‘Ben,’ Katie said finally, as though it encapsulated everything she had to say.
That was the permission he needed to approach and give her a hug. He stooped down and folded his arms across her back. It lasted no longer than three seconds and he even gave her a pat on the
shoulder as if to signal how platonic the embrace had been. ‘How’ve you been?’
That’s it?
Ryan thought, irrationally angry.
The young lovers reunite after a year apart and all I get is ‘How’ve you been?’?
Time to sack the
scriptwriters.
‘I’m marvellous,’ Ben said, his voice weird and nervous. ‘How are you?’
‘Not too bad, thanks. Nice beard.’ Katie softened, a smile playing across her lips. It reminded Ryan of how they used to be and he felt a little envious of their sweetness.
‘Thanks. I sit in the library and stroke it sometimes,’ Ben mused.
‘How Cambridge of you.’
‘I know, right? You look awesome. I like your hair.’
Katie’s fingers flew to her newly cut fringe. ‘Thanks.’ Her eyes fell and the awkwardness was back. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘Let me show you where your rooms
are.’
‘Sounds good,’ Greg agreed, gallantly taking not only his but the girls’ cases in hand, ‘but I need a beer in under two minutes.’
‘Done,’ Katie replied with a smile.
Greg deposited the cases in the bedrooms and then Katie gave them a tour of the villa. Ryan was happy to stand back and let her show everyone around while he soaked up the
chatter. The first stop was the kitchen, to unpack the boxes of groceries they’d brought from the hypermarket.
Greg brought in two boxes of booze before helping himself to a beer.
Ryan surveyed the alcohol stash. ‘OK, so this is Alisha’s supply,’ he said with a smile. ‘What about the rest of us?’
Alisha punched him on the arm. ‘Oh, very funny,’ she laughed. ‘Note – I’m drinking mineral water!’
‘Makes a change,’ Greg muttered, only half under his breath. Alisha chose to ignore him.
Erin left Greg’s side and looked out of the sliding doors. She turned to Katie. ‘Is your dad, like, a sultan or something?’ she asked. The tour group followed her from the
air-conditioned dining area onto the baking terrace.
Katie laughed, putting her sunglasses back on. She now wore a loose-fitting shirt over her bikini to protect her shoulders. ‘Ha, no! Not at all.’ Katie
hated
people thinking
she was posh. Ryan recalled once trying to teach her how to sound less plummy at school – a venture that had failed entirely. ‘He’s just a property developer.’
‘Ah, makes sense.’
‘My stepmum openly hates me, so my dad overcompensates by letting me use the villa whenever I like.’
‘Seriously,’ Ryan chipped in. ‘Actual wicked stepmother.’
The tour continued down the stone steps to the pool level.
‘Well, I think it’s gorgeous,’ Erin concluded.
‘Thank you. I’m glad you found it OK.’
Greg polished off his first bottle of beer in record time. ‘Ah! That hit the spot. I know what you mean. This place is literally in the middle of nowhere. El Benjamino has many talents,
but map reading is not one of them.’
‘Thanks, mate.’
‘Had you listened to me, we’d have been here in half the time,’ Alisha said, pouting. ‘But, no, girls can’t read maps, apparently.’
Greg smiled broadly and wrapped an impressive arm around his sister’s shoulder. ‘I never said that. I said
you
can’t read maps properly. Big difference.’ He
kissed her hair.
‘Children,’ Katie giggled, ‘simmer down. It’s not
that
remote. We’re about thirty minutes from town. You can follow the coast on foot in about an hour, an
hour and a half, perhaps.’
‘I thought there’d be some tavernas and restaurants and stuff,’ Ryan put in.
‘Nope,’ Katie replied cheerily. ‘The nearest resort is Zahara de los Atunes, which is why I told you to get everything you needed at the hypermarket. But we should do some
trips. We could drive out to Cádiz for a big night, and perhaps visit Gibraltar one day, too.’
‘We’ve got everything we need,’ Ben said. ‘Loads of booze. Enough burgers for about fifty barbecues. What more could you want?’
‘Oh, I don’t know . . . Ryan Gosling and some massage oil?’ Alisha suggested.
‘Get in line,’ Ryan laughed.
Katie swept her arm across the horizon like a game-show hostess. ‘Pool and beach,’ she said. ‘This concludes our tour.’
‘You
know
what we have to do now . . .’ Greg grinned and took hold of Erin’s hand.
‘No! Don’t!’ his girlfriend squeaked.
‘We have to – it’s the rules! Come on. Phones and wallets out of pockets.’ There was a flurry of activity as phones, shoes and sunglasses were deposited onto loungers.
‘Ready? One . . . two . . .’
They formed a human chain, hand in hand. Ryan found himself in between Ben and Katie and had never felt more like a third wheel in his life.
‘Three!’ Greg yelled.
With a scream, they leapt into the bracing blue water.
A
lisha Cole had been crossing off the days on her calendar, counting down to the holiday. During the miserable, drizzly weeks in Telscombe Cliffs,
the promise of a fortnight in Spain with her old friends had been all that kept her spirit alive.
The holiday was off to a fine start, too. After their impromptu dip, they had remained around the pool to dry off and catch up; they could worry about unpacking later.
Alisha let her legs dangle in the infinity pool, the icy water cooling her off. It might not be enough though; a further cold shower might be necessary. Alisha needed nun-like self-discipline to
resist staring at Ben’s wet form; his damp white T-shirt clung in all the right places and was pretty much see-through.
Man, he was looking super-duper fine these days. When he’d met them at the departure lounge she’d hardly recognised him. She’d clocked some Dolce-and-Gabbana-type model, and
was about to point the hottie out to Erin, when she’d realised it was the new and improved Ben Murdoch. He’d put on weight, but in a totally good way – he wasn’t the geeky
beanpole any more. The light stubble around his jaw said that he’d left for university a boy and returned a year later as a man. She wondered if she’d changed as much as he had.
Probably not – it felt as though her friends had all grown up while she’d been stuck at school for another year, retaking her flunked A-levels.
Ogling Ben Murdoch was seriously bad behaviour. He was off limits. He and Katie had so much history and Alisha knew only too well what it felt like to have your boyfriend taken by a skeezy
magpie.
‘You OK, Lish?’ Damn. He’d caught her staring. That was embarrassing.
‘I’m fine. Just drying off.’ She teased out her wet-noodle hair. Thanks to the low-cost airline’s ‘no reserved seating’ policy, they’d all had to sit
separately on the flight – although, if she was honest, she’d hardly been able to keep her eyes off Ben, anyway. He’d been reading a course textbook while she’d leafed
through photography magazines, trying to find inspiration for her portfolio. ‘Are
you
OK?’ she asked him. ‘You were pretty quiet in the car on the way here.’
Ben smiled, or smouldered – Alisha wasn’t sure what the right descriptive word was. ‘Yeah, I’m all right. Adjusting to holiday mode. Got a lot on my mind.’ This new
Ben was somehow more closed than the one she’d been to school with – his eyes seemed darker, cloudier.
‘Right.’ She knew just what he meant.
Nobody mention the dead girl.
She swung her legs out of the pool and crossed to the lounger opposite Ben, leaving wet footprints on the
tiles as she went. Katie was up in the kitchen making drinks while Greg applied sun lotion to Erin’s shoulders. Ryan was currently drifting on a hot pink inflatable in the pool; with his
shades on, it was impossible to tell if he was even awake.