Gaynor let out a little squeal, turned, and playfully slapped him on the arm.
“The kids might see,” she said as she readjusted her top. Then she noticed his erection and she gave him a quick kiss. “What do they say, only mad dogs, Englishmen and horny middle-aged men go out in the midday sun?”
He winked.
Clive leaned back on his elbows. Since the new resort had opened, the village of Mulberry had dropped off people’s radar. Having holidayed here for a number of years, he remembered when you couldn’t move on the beach. Now it was deserted. Life didn’t get much better.
The sun was at his back and the shadows of the cliffs to his right were thrown across the sand and into the sea like a fisherman’s net. In the distance, he could see a tanker moving slowly towards the horizon. As a kid, he’d always dreamed of sailing around the world, visiting exotic locales. The dream persisted until he left school, but then he met Gaynor and the dream was put on hold. He settled down, got a job in the local branch of a chain of supermarkets, worked his way up and was now the youngest manager in the company.
Occasionally the wanderlust returned, only now it was going to have to wait until the kids had grown up and left home–which would be at least another eleven years. But as he’d waited this long, he could wait a while longer.
“So what do you want to do tonight?” Gaynor asked as she lay back down.
“Do you really need to ask?”
“Well, that takes care of three minutes, but what about the rest of the evening?”
“Very funny. I’ll have you know I’m a sexual athlete.”
“More like a sexual deviant.” She chuckled.
Clive grinned. “We could take a drive to that restaurant we went to the other year. The one a few miles along the coast.”
Gaynor frowned.
“You know, the one where we had sex in the parking lot before the kids were born.”
“Oh, you mean the one that we hadn’t noticed had security cameras.”
Although he was wearing sunglasses, he couldn’t help noticing his wife blush.
“As long as they don’t remember us,” she continued. “Probably have our pictures on the wall of shame.”
“Great.”
“Or perhaps the film made its way onto the internet. Look what happened to Paris Hilton and those other celebrity tapes.”
“We’re not celebrities.”
“Perhaps we are now.” She laughed, then pulled a T-shirt over her face. “Anyway, it’s your turn to watch the kids while I snooze.”
He looked up and saw Ben and Jane were building a sandcastle, letting the incoming sea fill the moat they had dug around it. Satisfied they were okay, he picked up his Richard Laymon novel and began to read.
After fifteen minutes, the words started to blur as sweat rolled into his eyes, stinging. He reached across and grabbed a towel from the top of the bag Gaynor had packed. After wiping his eyes, he took out the bottle of water. He unscrewed the top and took a sip. It was warm. He was going to have to invest in one of those cooler packs. He would kill for an ice cream right now. Then he remembered they sold them in the village shop.
Deciding to take the kids for a walk while Gaynor slept, he looked towards where the kids were playing and saw Jane was on her own. He quickly scanned the beach, but couldn’t see Ben.
Panic flooded his body; felt like a cold icicle piercing his heart and flooding his veins with ice. He jumped up.
“Jane, where’s your brother?” he shouted.
Jane looked up from where she knelt at the water’s edge, a collection of seashells in her hand to adorn the sandcastle. She shook her head. “He was here a minute ago.”
“Clive, what is it?” Gaynor asked as she sat up and pulled the T-shirt from her face.
Clive didn’t answer as he jumped to his feet and scanned the beach. He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Ben,” he shouted. He shielded his eyes and looked towards the cliffs, then towards the rock pools on the way to the village, but there was no sign of Ben. He wouldn’t wander off without telling them… when he found him, Clive was going to give him such a smack. He shouted his son’s name again.
He ran down the beach to Jane, the warm sand oozing between his toes. “You must know where he’s gone,” he said when he reached her, a tremor in his voice.
Jane shook her head.
“Where’s Ben?” Gaynor asked as she arrived at his side.
Clive felt a lump in his throat. He looked out to sea. Thought he saw something floating about thirty feet out. Liquid nitrogen superseded the ice in his veins. Ben?
Without hesitating, he ran into the sea. Despite the heat of the sun, the water was cold and gooseflesh spread from his legs to his torso. Bits of seaweed floated around his legs. The further out he went, the colder the water became. The seabed sloped quickly and he was soon up to his waist. He started to swim, heading in the direction he had seen the object. Saltwater stung his eyes. Panic fuelled his strokes, and before he knew it, he reached the spot where he thought he had spied something, but there was nothing there. He trod water. Looked around. Small swells caused him to bob up and down.
Suppose Ben was underwater?
The thought chilled him even more. He took a deep breath and dived. Visibility underwater was difficult, like looking through Vaseline, the saltwater stinging his eyes. Using his arms, he searched the area like a blind man, probing into the depths. Something brushed past his leg, making him squirm. He reached out and grabbed it, only to find it was a piece of seaweed.
He didn’t know how deep he was, but he hadn’t touched the bottom. He kicked with his legs, spinning in circles, a human whirlpool. He was going to have to head back up soon, but he had to find Ben.
His lungs felt as though they were burning. He needed to reach the surface, take another breath and then dive back down.
He kicked and groped at the water, forging a path back up. Bubbles burst from his nostrils as he started to exhale.
Seconds later his head broke the surface and he gulped in a deep breath. His breathing was rapid, his heart beating fast. He hadn’t exerted himself this much since betting his best friend Alex that he could beat him in a race to the bar. He’d lost.
Saltwater stung his eyes, and he rubbed them with the backs of his hands.
“Clive.”
He heard Gaynor shout and he looked back towards the beach; saw she was waving, and then she pointed down to Jane and Ben at her side.
Relief washed over Clive like a wave. He exhaled a long sigh and let his legs drift up, floating on his back to breathe as he circled his arms to stay afloat. I’m going to kill him, he thought. But really he knew he was going to hug him so tight that Ben would shout for him to let him go.
About to turn over and swim for shore, he felt something brush his back. His first thought was more seaweed. Then something grabbed him.
Clive gasped. Sharp pain erupted around his waist. He kicked out and thrashed with his arms. Seawater frothed around his torso like rabid foam. He reached down to prise off whatever had grabbed him, felt sharp teeth and bony skin. Fear unlike anything he’d ever felt rushed through his body.
Shark!
The creature pulled powerfully down, and Clive sank into the deep. Bubbles surged past his face, and the inky blackness turned red with blood.
Chapter 9
Shazam jumped to her feet and started barking. Thinking she was barking at Zander again, Bruce was about to admonish her when he heard the scream. It emanated from back along the road towards his house and was the worst thing he had ever heard in his life.
“What the hell’s that?” Erin asked.