31

I watch Will and Richard zooming around on the sea in front of us. Is it my imagination or are they going a little fast?

They come speeding towards the shore and they stop a little way out, Richard spraying Will as he flies in behind him.

‘Sorry, mate,’ he says.

‘No problem, mate,’ says Will through what seems to be gritted teeth.

I think perhaps the boys haven’t quite realised the BFF potential yet – but we’ve still got the rest of the afternoon to work on it.

The owner of the jet skis pats Will on the back and with a thumbs up wades back to shore. It looks like the boys have proved that they know what they’re doing and we’re being let loose on the ocean.

‘Come on, ladies,’ says Richard, slapping the back of his jet ski.

‘Why don’t I go with Will, shake things up a little,’ says Josie as she splashes into the shallows and swings her leg over the back of his jet ski.

‘OK,’ I say, nodding.

‘Yes, we like to get to know other people when we’re on holiday,’ Richard says, patting me on my thigh as I get on the jet ski behind him, making me think I’ll grab on to the hand rails rather than his waist.

‘Wouldn’t you rather go with your husband?’ says Will, only I don’t hear Josie’s reply, as Richard lets out the throttle and whoosh – we’re off.

I immediately let go of the back handles and grab him, clinging on for dear life.

There was me thinking we’d be going on a nice gentle pootle up the coast, and now I’m clinging on to Richard, desperately trying not to be thrown off like I’m on a banana boat.

It’s not long before Will and his jet ski appears in front of us, and I can’t quite help wishing I was riding with him. Josie’s sat very close to him and her hands seem awfully low down his waist.

But, as if he’s in a bid to distract me, Richard’s off again, overtaking, bounding over the waves, and I thud up and down on the seat as we do.

After what seems like hours, but is probably only minutes, we come to a stop.

‘How about that beach?’ says Richard, pointing.

It’s not the beach from the photo, but it’s still pretty. It’s in a slightly sheltered bay with a wall of trees at the rear making it pretty secluded.

‘Um, I think there’s a better one just a little way up,’ says Will, who’s now alongside us.

‘How do you know that?’ I say, wondering when my boyfriend swatted up on his island geography, seeing as we’ve barely left the resort.

‘I’m sure the one from the photos is around here somewhere.’

‘But this one’s so close, and I could really do with a pee. That tree over there would be a perfect cover,’ purrs Josie.

‘I told you, you should never have had a pitcher,’ says Richard, as he starts up his jet ski and heads towards the beach. As soon as we come to a halt I jump off into the water, relieved to have stopped. I’m feeling ever so slightly seasick and I’m glad to be getting on to dry land.

Richard’s already dragging the jet ski to the beach as Will pulls up. Josie hops off and runs to the tree.

Will seems to hesitate before dragging his jet ski out of the water.

Josie walks back over to us and leans down to wash her hand in the sea before standing upright and surveying the beach. ‘Now, this really is paradise,’ she says.

‘Isn’t it just?’ I say, staring in disbelief that we’re the only people here.

Will says, ‘I think the other beach is supposed to be better, if we get back on the skis and –’

‘Relax, we’ve got the whole afternoon,’ I say. ‘We can spend a little time here and then go on to the next beach. We’re in no rush, are we?’

Will looks at his watch, and he starts to fidget.

‘No, I guess not,’ he says.

I look around before I sit down. There’s not a lot to explore, so I might as well settle down and take in some of the view. Will plonks himself next to me and sprays me with sand that sticks to my wet legs.

I try and brush it off before taking off my life jacket, instantly regretting the white shirt choice. It’s going see-through and it’s not like I’m even wearing a bikini underneath. I guess that’s the price to pay for spontaneity. I self-consciously fold my arms over my chest as Richard peers over.

‘Now this is just what we’ve been looking for,’ says Josie as she starts to strip off. She did remember her bikini, only she doesn’t stop when she gets down to it. ‘Be free my beauties,’ she says, exhaling in relief as she throws her top on to the sand beside her.

Blimey, as if I wasn’t jealous enough of her sunbathing when she has her bikini on – let’s just say she makes my boobs look like I’ve got two fried eggs in my bra.

‘That feels so much better. I can’t believe they’re so funny about topless sunbathing here. I mean, what sort of a country with such beautiful beaches makes it illegal?’

Josie sits herself down and lies back, propping herself up on her elbows. Richard starts to unbutton his shirt slowly as if he’s doing some sort of a striptease, and then reaches for his shorts. Oh God. This is getting worse by the minute. The shorts hit the sand revealing a pair of tight swimming trunks, and I’m wincing thinking he’s going to pull those off too, but luckily for me he settles down in the sand next to Josie – phew! It’s not often that I’m pleased to see a man in budgie smugglers, but I’m willing to make an exception since the alternative would be unbearable.

‘So, um,’ I say, wondering what we’re going to do now. I hadn’t really thought this through when I’d invited them on our romantic beach trip. If it was just Will and I here then who knows what we’d have been doing now, but I’m imagining we might have ended up as scantily clad as the other two. But now it’s the four of us, sitting pretty closely together with them practically naked, it’s a tad awkward. I’m slightly scared after Richard’s comments about getting to know people, and that thigh squeeze was a little close for comfort. I can’t help thinking that I might be stuck on a deserted beach with a couple who are looking for some sort of ménage à quatre.

And the worst of it is, I’m feeling uncomfortable all by myself as Will doesn’t appear to have noticed.

I’m usually not bothered by topless women sunbathing, but Josie’s right next to me and I feel like I’m having one of those cringey communal changing-room moments. You know, the one when the whole changing room is pretty much empty yet you still end up sharing a tiny little changing bench with one of those women who likes to walk around letting everything hang out. When it happens to me, I do that terribly British thing of pretending I can’t see. That’s what I need to do now.

‘So, you come on these sporting holidays a lot, then?’ I say, as if I’m perfectly at ease hanging out with my semi-naked new friends.

‘Oh yes, too many,’ says Josie, rolling her eyes theatrically. ‘We’ve come to a few in the West Indies, and we’ve done the Ashes in Australia.’

‘Cover your ears, Will.’

And your eyes. Not that I needed to worry; he’s staring intently at the sky.

‘What was that?’ he asks as he’s clearly not been following our conversation.

I don’t know what’s he looking for as there’s not even a cloud to see.

‘Josie went to watch the Ashes in Australia with her husband.’

‘For our honeymoon,’ she adds.

‘Oh, my goodness,’ I say, laughing. That so could be us. ‘Now that is dedication.’

‘Uh-huh. I joke, but it was a trip of a lifetime.’

‘Well, not really, as we’re going to go back for our fourth anniversary when the next Ashes are out there,’ says Richard.

Josie shakes her head.

‘He’s bloody sporting mad. You be careful, Lexi. You go on one of these holidays and then every holiday is based around another sporting event. I used to think that my holidays were the only escape from his sports schedule, but now they’ve just become part of it.’

Now this I can cope with. Us bonding over our sporting widow tales.

‘Oh, come on,’ he says. ‘You love it just as much as I do. Remember the time we bumped into Jimmy Anderson at the bar? I don’t remember you complaining then.’

Josie’s cheeks colour and she begins to fan herself with her hand. ‘Ah, Jimmy. Too bad he didn’t take us up on our offer.’

I swear she has the same glint in her eye as I’ve seen in Cara’s. It makes me think that I don’t want to know what that proposition was, especially not when she’s licking her lips, seemingly lost in a daydream. So much for safe ground.

‘So, tell me about you two,’ she says, as if snapping herself back to the present. ‘Where are you from in the UK?’

‘Just outside of Southampton, in Hampshire,’ I reply.

‘Near the Rose Bowl,’ says the husband. ‘Or what is it now, the Ageas Bowl?’

I nod. God, he sounds like Will. His UK geography is also based on sporting teams and venues. He so could be Will’s BFF – if this whole slightly pervy side to Richard and the semi-nudity have so far meant that their couple BFF status is hanging precariously in the balance.

‘What about you two? Where are you from?’

‘Cheltenham,’ says Josie.

‘Oh, I like Cheltenham. Will and I went one December.’

‘Let me guess, to the races?’

‘Amazing, how did you know?’

‘Just a hunch,’ she says, and we laugh.

‘So what do you do?’

‘I’m an arts officer at our local council.’

‘And she’s an aspiring writer,’ says Will.

I didn’t realise he was even listening. He turns as he says it, for the first time breaking away from the sky and clearly noticing Josie’s boobs. He immediately turns back to the horizon.

‘Oh, that sounds intriguing. What sort of things do you write? Fiction or non-fiction?’

‘Fiction. Mainly thrillers, but I’ve being playing around with writing something a bit more along the lines of a romantic comedy.’

I feel Will’s hand grab at my leg as there’s a rumble overhead, and I look up to see a passenger plane in the distance heading away from the island. That’ll be us tomorrow, I think sadly. As quickly as he grabbed my leg, he pulls his arm away and loses himself once more in his sky watching. Don’t tell me he’s going to become a plane spotter as well as a sports fanatic.

‘That’s really interesting. I wish I could do that. I just would have no idea what to write about,’ says Josie.

‘It’s not really the writing that’s the hard bit,’ I say, as if I’m the world’s most knowledgeable writer. I dig my toes into the sand and watch as the crystal-clear water creeps ever closer towards us. ‘It’s the editing that’s difficult. That’s when you’ve got to transform the rubbish you’ve written into something intelligible. The ideas are easy to find when you start to look for them. Like the other day when we were at the cricket, I was wondering what it’s like for the cricket WAGs. What they do when their partners are off on all their fancy cricket tours? Are they back at home looking after the kids, or are they flitting around the Caribbean with them?’

Richard picks up a bottle of suntan lotion and without asking starts rubbing it on Josie’s back. She’s starts moaning with pleasure and I join Will in staring at the horizon.

‘Not much of a killer thriller in that idea,’ says Josie, between groans.

‘No, not so much. But, as I say, I’ve started to write a bit of women’s fiction lately.’

I notice Will’s started to dig a hole in the sand next to him. Maybe he’s trying to dig his way out of here. With the erotic massage that appears to be going on next to us, I don’t blame him.

‘You all right?’ I whisper, hoping he’ll suggest we make a speedy getaway.

‘Yes, yes,’ he says. ‘You know me, I’m not very good at sunbathing.’

‘Right. Well we could always go and see another beach. Do some more jet-skiing.’

‘But we’ve just got here,’ says Richard. ‘We’ve got the skis for another couple of hours so there’s no rush.’

I’m hoping Will might suggest we go off and meet them somewhere else, but he doesn’t.

‘Yes, let’s stay here for a bit,’ he says.

I sigh. At least Richard seems to have finished with Josie.

‘Lexi, do you want some?’ he says, raising an eyebrow to the sky, a cheeky grin on his face.

‘I’m fine, thank you,’ I say, trying to remember when I last applied lotion. I think I’d rather burn.

‘Suit yourself, but you’re missing out on these magic hands,’ he says, wiggling them.

I turn to look at Will and he’s fidgeting, clearly as uncomfortable as I am. So why does he want us to stay?

‘You know, you should write about this type of thing,’ says the woman . . .

Being stuck on a deserted beach with a couple of semi-naked swingers.

‘What? Chilling out on a deserted beach?’

‘No, not this literally. I mean the sporting holiday. Write about being stuck on the sidelines.’

Little does she know how close to home that is at the moment.

‘I can’t imagine that would be very interesting for people,’ I say, trying to steer the conversation away. I feel far too uncomfortable talking about this with Will sitting next to me.

‘Of course it would. You probably don’t realise it, but I bet you’ve got loads of anecdotes. I’ve recently started following this blog on the Internet about a sporting widow.’

I cough as I almost swallow my tongue. I can feel my face starting to burn and it’s got nothing to do with the sun.

‘Are you sure that you don’t want to go back on the jet skis? I feel like I can hear the main road from this beach. Maybe we can find somewhere quieter,’ I say, looking around and hoping the fear of people being nearby might be enough to get the others to move.

‘Talk about bat hearing. I can barely hear it,’ says Will.

Good to know he’s still listening to the conversation.

‘Oh, you should totally read it,’ says Josie, ignoring me. ‘I just can’t remember what the full title of it is. But, you know, she’s a proper sporting widow, just like us,’ she says, elbowing me as she laughs.

I want to laugh her off as if to protest that I’m not one, but I can’t. My throat seems to have gone very dry and I’m unable to talk. My stomach is churning now, really clunking around and I’m feeling like it didn’t get the memo that I no longer need to have a stomach upset.

‘I think it’s got revenge in the title.’

Uh-oh. It has to be another one. Surely there are lots of other blogs about that. She couldn’t possibly be one of the seven thousand people who has read mine, could she?

‘Sporting Widow seeks Revenge,’ says her husband, joining the conversation.

‘That’s it,’ says the woman.

Oh, fuck.

I start to feel beads of sweat form on my forehead and my hands get as clammy as Will’s were earlier. What are the chances of that? I look round for somewhere to go, but I don’t think I’d be able to push the jet ski back into the water and I’m not that strong a swimmer. I look back at the trees at the edge of the beach. Perhaps I could make a break for the road?

Don’t panic Mr Mainwaring, I say to myself as I try to remember to breathe. After all, it’s a blog on the World Wide Web. She doesn’t know I wrote it and therefore she doesn’t need to know I wrote it. Will isn’t going to magically guess from the title, as he is oblivious to what I’ve been doing.

‘Have you read it?’ says the woman. ‘It’s brilliant.’

I shake my head, lying. While I’m desperately uncomfortable with the subject matter, I can’t help but be the tiddliest, tiniest bit pleased that she, a virtual stranger, has managed to find it on the Internet and read it. Not only that; she thinks it’s brilliant. God, I’m so conflicted between wanting to jump up and down and scream that it’s me that’s written it, and wanting to run away for fear of discovery. And even though Will is heavily distracted, I don’t think either of those responses would go unnoticed.

‘I really fancy a drink?’ I say to Will. ‘Why don’t you push me a jet ski out and I’ll go and get some.’

‘Ooh, rum cocktail for me,’ says Josie, clapping her hands with delight.

‘You can’t take one of the skis out, you weren’t given the lesson,’ says Will, looking at me as if I’ve gone nuts.

‘But I’m parched,’ I say, trying to do a fake cough. ‘Perhaps you could take me back?’

‘Have some water.’

He digs around in his backpack with one hand while seemingly restraining me with the other.

‘But it’s warm,’ I say, whining like a total diva.

‘If you were really thirsty you’d drink it,’ says Will, patting my hand firmly to end the conversation.

‘But –’ I say, going to stand.

‘Just stay here,’ he almost orders as he pulls me firmly down.

I look at him in shock. He’s never physically restrained me before.

‘We’ll go up the coast in a bit, I promise. We’ll see if we can find you a bar. But I feel like we should just wait here for a bit, OK? We don’t want to miss anything.’

I look at the translucent sand, turquoise sea and baby-blue sky and out at the horizon. All have remained unchanged since we got here. I’m wondering what exactly he thinks we’re going to miss if we go.

‘But –’ I start, unable to think of anything else to try.

Josie breaks out into spontaneous laughter.

‘What’s with you, woman?’ asks Richard.

‘I’m just remembering one of the blog posts. It was so funny.’

So we’re still talking about this?

‘I’m so thirsty, I really think we should get on the jet skis and –’

Will puts his arm around me and brings me into a big cuddle. I’m often moaning that he should hug me more, but really this isn’t the time to start.

‘Hang on, Lexi,’ says Richard, jogging over to a jet ski.

I look up. While I don’t really want to go on the the back with him again, but beggars can’t be choosers. If it means escaping this conversation, I’ll take a ride with him, thigh strokes and all.

I try and wriggle myself free of Will’s surprisingly strong hug.

‘Here,’ says Richard, looking triumphant as he pulls a can of Coke out of a cooler box. ‘The guy said he’d left refreshments in the back.’

He hands one round to each of us.

‘There,’ says Will. ‘Problem solved, Lex. Thanks, Richard,’ he says raising his can as he takes a sip. Oh great. Now they become BFFs.

Will releases his grip on me slightly and I take a quick sip of my drink. I feel well and truly hemmed in here now, with a half-naked woman who won’t stop talking about my very secret blog and my boyfriend who’s acting like a deranged prison warden.

Short of faking that food poisoning and disappearing into the bushes, the only way of getting out of this unscathed is to shut Josie up.