Page 35 of A Sky Painted Gold

A grin lights up his face and he plunges towards me, returning the favour.

I squeal and dart away. I am a strong swimmer – living here I’ve been swimming since almost before I could walk, but in this moment I decide I don’t want to swim too strongly. After all, playing in the water with a gorgeous man is the stuff dreams are made of, and it would be rude of me not to make the most of such an opportunity.

I let Charlie catch me, and he wraps a strong arm around my waist, holding me firmly while he splashes me with more water. I squirm and kick my legs, sending a spray of salt water over us both.

Charlie is laughing and his eyelashes are wet and clinging together. I rest my palms lightly on his shoulders, and even in the cool water he feels warm.

“How about a race?” he asks, his arm still holding me close to him.

“Sure,” I say, desperately hoping he can’t feel how hard my heart is beating. “Where to?”

“That rock over there?” Charlie pulls his arm away and points to an outcrop of rocks rising from the sea about fifty yards away.

“OK,” I say. “See you there!” and without another word I swim off. I hear an exclamation behind me.

I win the race easily, my fingers skimming against the craggy rocks with whole seconds to spare.

“I win! I win!” I crow as I splash about in the water, ever the demure and graceful lady. I turn to look out towards the village. There is the beach where I stood watching a race just like this one and desperately wishing I could be part of it, and now here I am, really here.

“You’re fast.” Charlie shakes his head. “I’ll admit that, but I demand a rematch. Race you back to land.” And this time he leaves me behind, turning and plunging back towards the shore.

Even with the head start he doesn’t stand a chance. Taking a deep breath, I dive down under the water, kicking forward and feeling for all the world like a mermaid with my hair streaming out behind me, moving swiftly over the bed of golden sand. I swim far enough that I overtake Charlie before surfacing in front of him. “Hey!” I hear him shout, but his protests are snatched away by a dancing breeze and I carry on moving forward, slipping through the water. I can hear the others on the shore shouting and cheering, and as I stagger out on to the sand I see that Caitlin has jumped to her feet.

“You did it!” she squeals, throwing herself at me. “You were amazing!”

I laugh, trying to push the tangle of wet hair out of my eyes. Someone hands me a towel and I look up to see it is Robert.

Charlie has reached the sand now and he is shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you’re so fast,” he pants, and I feel myself glowing at the admiration in his eyes. “It’s like racing a fish.”

Hmm. My face falls. I’m not sure I like that comparison, actually.

“Don’t compare Lou to a fish!” Caitlin exclaims hotly, like a true friend.

“I was just saying she swam like one.” Charlie holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Gosh, it was supposed to be a compliment.”

I shrug. “My sister and I always raced a lot,” I say. I can’t resist smirking at Charlie. “She’s a lot harder to beat.”

Everyone laughs at this.

“Now I have no trouble believing you swim out here to the island on a regular basis,” Robert says. “You looked like a sea sprite out there.”

“It’s just the way it is if you grow up here,” I reply with another shrug, a little thrown by what I think is almost a compliment. “You’re always in the water, or on the water. I love the sea.”

The rest of the afternoon seems to melt away in a lazy, golden haze of reading and drinking and aimless chatter. I feel the night before catching up with me, and I lie back in the sand with my eyes closed against the sun.

“It sounds terribly dull down here.” A voice rings out moments later, and I lift myself on my elbow to see that Bernie has arrived, carrying two big bottles of champagne. Trailing behind him and carrying a big wicker picnic basket is one of the handsome young men I saw him with last night. “I’m glad we didn’t bother to drag ourselves out of bed any earlier, if this is the state of things.”

“If you’re not careful, Bernie, you’re going to turn into a vampire,” Patricia says. “It’s practically evening again.”

Bernie bares his teeth as though showing off a pair of fangs. “I always have been something of a creature of the night,” he says. “It’s when all the best things happen. Who needs all this sunlight and fresh air?” He shudders. “Give me a dark, smoky corner any day of the week.” These last words are practically a purr, directed at the man beside him, whose cheeks flush pink. “Anyway, darlings,” Bernie continues, “there’s no need to nag me when I’ve rustled up such a lovely feast!” Bernie throws his arms open as though he has carefully prepared each dish himself and expects a round of applause.

Caitlin rolls her eyes. “I think Eustace is the one who’s done the heavy lifting there,” she says, smiling at the boy who is staring worshipfully at Bernie.

“Not to mention Mrs Vickers in the kitchen,” Robert drawls.

Bernie falls gracefully on to the end of Laurie’s lounger, one leg swinging easily over the other. “Semantics, my dears,” he says, already pulling the cork from one of the champagne bottles. “Semantics. After all, I was in charge of the most important bit.” His sentence is punctuated by the popping of the cork, and Caitlin rushes forward with a glass.

The champagne is poured and we all stand (except for Laurie, who is still lounging). I feel the sand between my toes, and the late afternoon sun overhead. My body is loose and relaxed – tired and awake all at once.