Michele Gorman

Match Me If You Can


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      They had walked out to the beach after lunch on their first day, laden with towels and sun cream and snorkelling gear. There hadn’t been many other people there but all the sun loungers were taken.

      ‘We’ll have to sit on the sand,’ Sarah said.

      ‘I don’t like the sand,’ said Sissy.

      ‘Neither do I but there aren’t any free chairs. It won’t matter too much. You’ll be in the water anyway.’

      ‘C’mon, Sissy, let’s swim,’ Robin said. ‘Race you in!’

      Sissy ran into the sea, whooping as she went. As Sarah watched them she thought there was no doubt that they were all related. Robin had the same runner’s build and thick dark blond hair as Sarah, with Sissy’s round face and vivid green eyes. Their mum was never really far away.

      She spread their towels on a patch of sand near some steep rocks. The hotel sat directly on the cove, which was just a few hundred metres across. The hot sun was tempered by a breeze off the water that blew snippets of laughter and conversation from the swimmers. Sarah threw herself onto her tummy with one of the Artists & Illustrators back issues she’d brought with her. A week of doing nothing but this! Bliss. She looked forward to these holidays as much as Sissy did.

      She read the same paragraph again and again till the David Hockney article blurred. The next thing she knew she was being levered over onto her back.

      ‘Sissy, you’re soaking wet! And your hands are freezing.’

      Laughing, she dripped seawater on Sarah’s face. ‘Come swim with me.’

      ‘Your lips are blue. Warm up in the sun first and then I’ll go in with you.’

      She sat up. The sun had shifted position. ‘How long have you been in the water? I was dead tired.’

      ‘It’s nearly five now,’ said Robin, checking the watch in his bag. ‘Have you been asleep all this time? You should cover up. You look burned.’

      She pulled the towel around her shoulders. They were already going stingy.

      ‘There are loads of restaurants along the beach,’ said Robin. ‘We should check one out for tea later.’

      That was fine with Sarah. A few glasses of wine would take the sting out of her sunburn.

      But they couldn’t agree on a restaurant. Sissy was happy with any place that served prawns. Sarah didn’t want to spend a fortune on their first night and Robin had his heart set on a restaurant directly on the water. Nothing made them all happy.

      ‘But we’re paying for the view,’ Sarah complained as Robin loitered in front of one beachfront bistro. ‘The food probably isn’t even good.’

      ‘There wouldn’t be anyone inside if the food wasn’t good.’

      ‘Maybe they’re all suckers like you, here for the sunset.’

      ‘And the prawns.’ He pointed to the menu. ‘Look, Sissy, they’ve got prawns.’

      ‘I want to go here,’ Sissy said. Robin smiled.

      Sarah shot him a look over their sister’s head. Dirty tricks.

      She was wrong about the wine. It just made her tipsy and aching. But she was right about the food. It was expensive, with Robin gorging on the ceviche like he was the king of Atlantis.

      They went to bed with full tummies and empty wallets.

      ‘Are you awake?’ Sissy whispered into Sarah’s ear the next morning.

      She could see daylight through her eyelids but she knew better than to open them. Her only chance of any kind of lie-in at all was to play dead.

      Tap tap tap. ‘Sarah, are you awake?’ She didn’t bother whispering this time.

      Sarah kept her eyes screwed shut. ‘No. I’m sleeping. What time is it?’

      ‘The sun’s up. You’re not sleeping. You’re talking.’

      ‘Thanks to you.’

      ‘You’re welcome.’

      They were on the beach before most of the other guests had finished breakfast.

      Unfortunately most of the other guests were German.

      ‘Here,’ said Sissy, choosing three of the sun loungers with umbrellas. ‘For your burn.’

      ‘That’s very thoughtful, Sissy, but we can’t sit there. People have already put their towels down.’

      ‘But they’re not here.’

      ‘I know, but they’ve reserved the seats.’

      Sarah knew how stupid that sounded. How was she supposed to explain about this early morning Continental reservation system? Sissy was a linear thinker and didn’t usually break the rules. And since there was no actual rule about reserving sun loungers …

      Sissy moved the resident towel to the sand, laid out her own and settled down with a contented sigh. Sarah knew her sister. It would take an Act of Parliament to move her. So she painfully lowered herself into the next lounger over.

      ‘What are you going to say to the people who come out to sit in their chairs?’ Robin asked.

      ‘I’ll say that my sister rightly said that beach chairs can’t be reserved. They’re for people to sit in. Are you joining us?’

      ‘I’ll have a swim first.’

      In other words, he was leaving Sarah to face the angry tourists. ‘Coward.’

      He jogged to the water and threw himself in.

      ‘Can I swim too?’ Sissy asked.

      ‘Twenty more minutes, I think. Just till your breakfast digests. Robin stopped eating before you did.’

      Sissy took Robin’s watch from his bag to count down the minutes.

      Sarah was shrouded from head to toe from the sun but still enjoying the already warm morning. She watched a couple of eager swimmers who, like Robin, were having a post-breakfast dip.

      Suddenly their brother stopped swimming. He must have got a cramp. It was shallow enough for him to stand up, but he looked scared.

      Sarah sat straighter in her chair. What was he afraid of?

      He started swinging his arms, rushing for the shore.

      Were there sharks?

      Jellyfish?

      ‘Robin, what is it?!’

      Instead of answering he darted towards the rocks to the left. Then he wheeled around and started running towards them.

      But he didn’t make it.

      As he neared, he slowed.

      Then he crouched, still walking, with a look of horror on his face.

      ‘I’m going to …’

      He squatted.

      His face contorted with a mix of mortification and relief.

      Right there on the beach in the glare of the sun, in front of the German tourists who were just emerging from breakfast, Sarah’s brother shat his swim trunks.

      ‘Don’t just sit there!’ he shouted. ‘Give me a towel.’

      And a spade to cover his … tracks.

      Half an hour later Sarah was paralysed with cramp too, but at least she made it to the room. Just.

      That restaurant was emptying more than their wallets.

      Luckily Sissy wasn’t sick. Her squeamishness about raw fish saved her from the fate of her shitting siblings. But they couldn’t leave her to fend for herself on the beach while they