Page 53 of Below the Deck

Talia sighed with relief. ‘I’m just glad you’re all right. But yes, that wasn’t your finest move.’ She smiled at him and shook her head indulgently.

‘We’re going to settle Rory below deck on a massage bed in the treatment room – it’s the closest thing we’ve got to a first aid room,’ said Johanna. ‘He should be fine after a bit of rest and some painkillers. Talia, please stay where you are for a little longer – when the sea is calmer, you can come down and check on him.’

Talia dipped her head and watched as they led Rory through the salon and towards the treatment room. A moment later, Brett reappeared.

‘A quick update for you, folks,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry about the cut to our power. The captain can manage without me for now, so I’m heading down to the engine room to get the back-up generator started. It shouldn’t take me too long, providing the seawater didn’t get to it.’

Thank God.

Brett paused, then added: ‘We, er, unfortunately got blown somewhat off course by the squall. So it’s going to take us a little longer to reach Raiatea – another hour or two, still. You might not get much daylight there, but you’ll still have the evening.’ He shrugged apologetically, then made his way below deck.

Talia tried to focus on just breathing.Everything is under control.The lights would turn back on any minute; they’d anchor safely at Raiatea in only a couple of hours. They’d be close to shore well before it got dark, even if the back-up generator didn’t kick in.

She touched the edges of her phone in her handbag. Perhaps, before she left, shewouldsee her lover one last time – tell him her decision, face to face. That would be more appropriate, wouldn’t it? That was the grown-up thing to do.

It was almost over. Soon she could fly home and leave all this chaos behind her.

LUCY

Through the flickering of the yacht’s emergency lighting overhead, Lucy couldn’t take her eyes off Rory’s phone.

It had fallen out of his pocket when he’d stumbled off to go and find the captain. He’d been so unsteady on his feet, so rocked by the waves, he hadn’t noticed when his phone slipped out, tumbled to the ground and slid across the slanting floor. It had landed underneath the sofa, right beneath where Nick and Eleni were sitting.

Lucy needed to get to that phone. If she could just grab it and tuck it away in her pocket, then she could hide it in her suitcase when she got below deck. Rory would just think he’d lost it somehow; that it had fallen overboard, even, in the chaos of the squall and the injury to his face.

I’ve got to get it right now.Perhaps if she could access it in the next couple of minutes, the lock screen might not have kicked in. That way, Lucy could bypass needing to know Rory’s password. Yes: one way or another, getting her hands on Rory’s phone right now waseverything.

On it, there was almost certainly the evidence she desperately needed. On that phone, there would be emails or messages or archived files –somethingthat proved Rory had rushed through the takeover of Willowbrook Lodge, the specialist residential care home where Alfie had been doing so well, where he’d been happy. Lucy and her mum had been able to take a deep breath; to sleep through the whole night; to focus on their own lives for those few precious years. And Alfie – he’d been thriving. Willowbrook had everything he could possibly need, and more. He’d made so much progress; he’d flourished there …

Right up until he’d been turfed out without a scrap of regard for his welfare. Alfie had nowhere to go when the care home was taken over by an ambitious property development firm, chomping at the bit to turn this imposing Victorian mansion into a set of soulless, luxury flats.Ashworth Property Partners.

Because of that deal, Lucy’s brother lost his carers, his support, and the home he’d got so used to, overnight. None of the promises ofappropriate alternative accommodationandsignificant financial compensationwere ever realized. So when Alfie came back home to live with their mum, his state of mind deteriorated rapidly and his meltdowns escalated – they became bigger and more frightening for him than ever before. It was hardly surprising: he was confused. He was bereft. And he didn’t have the language or the tools to express his feelings in any other way.

She should have seen it coming; it was little wonder things spiralled as badly as they did.

Lucy blinked away her tears and leaned into Mark’s shoulder. She could trust him again, now that he knew everything. He’dsaid he was willing to do whatever he could to help with her plan while they were still here. He could start by helping her withthis. So she moved her lips close to his ear and whispered, ‘Shh – don’t react. Rory dropped his phone. It’s under the sofa, near Eleni.’ Lucy couldn’t see his face; she hoped it remained impassive. He gave the slightest nod; he understood. She murmured into his ear again: ‘Do you think we can try to reach it somehow?’

Mark stared ahead thoughtfully. Lucy wondered if he was ruminating on the same unfortunate notion that she was: the squall was calming at the most inconvenient time. If the yacht had still been rolling and sliding on the water, either she or Mark could have feigned tumbling off the sofa and landing, sprawled out, on the floor near Eleni’s feet. It would have been so easy to reach for the phone then, unnoticed.

But the worst of the weather was over: the motion of the waves was gentle – barely enough to make Lucy shift lightly up and down in her seat. Falling to the ground now would look suspicious, not to mention bizarre.

She’d have to try something else. Bobbing her head from side to side, raising her eyebrows like an overenthusiastic primary school teacher, Lucy tried to catch Eleni’s eye; she was sitting almost directly above the phone. Maybe if she got Eleni’s attention, she could try mouthing to her, gesture underneath the sofa and urge her colleague to pocket the phone.

But I still don’t know if I can trust her. She’s not my friend.

Eleni had been lukewarm towards Lucy all week: suspicious, as if she didn’t understand what Lucy was even doing there. She hadn’t expected them to become best friends on the few days of their holiday – she wasn’tthatnaive. But she’d hopedthey might at least get to know each other a little. It would be nice to have an ally at Ashworth; someone she could count on.

More than that, though, RoryadoredEleni – everyone knew that. He indulged her like a daddy doting on his precious firstborn. Lucy was aware that was why a part of her wanted to tell Eleni everything, up on the sun deck a moment ago. Even starting to tell her about Alfie felt like an embarrassing overshare now – what did she think Eleni was going to do? Suddenly become her staunchest ally?

This is why everything goes better when I plan my conversations thoroughly in advance.

At least she hadn’t said any more – she’d been saved from that by the approaching squall. In any case, Lucy’s attempts to get Eleni’s attention were failing; her colleague was clearly distracted, anxious, even. She kept flickering nervous glances at Nick, then towards Sam, then back to Nick again. It was impossible to get her to look Lucy’s way.

Mark turned his face towards hers and leaned in close. ‘You just need to be patient,’ he whispered. ‘When the squall’s over and everyone’s left the room, we’ll get it.’

Lucy sighed. He was right, of course. She was in too much of a rush to get to it before it locked, but trying to grab it now was risky. She reassured herself: even if it needed a password, she’d find a way in, if she had to. She’d never tried to break into a phone before, but it was the kind of thing her brain could work its way around in a few minutes of googling – she was sure of it.

Just then, the yacht gave a sudden lurch as a wave hit the hull; Lucy’s back slammed into the sofa behind her while the three passengers on the sofa opposite were shunted forwards.