My eyes fell to the floor. ‘I’m okay. Just an existential crisis.’
‘I brought you breakfast,’ he added, lifting the plate with the cloche. ‘It’s on me. I thought it might help.’
‘I’ll take it, but I insist you bill it to me.’ It didn’t take a genius or twenty-plus years in the business to know how rubbish the pay was for resort workers. The view and lifestyle were often not enough to overcome the poverty of young workers for long periods. I softened my tone. ‘Thank you for checking on me. It was kind.’
He nodded, handing me the tray. ‘Have a good day.’
‘Thanks.’ I shut the door, feeling happy for the human race that not every kid under thirty was a dick.
I carried the tray happily to the table, removing the cloche with enthusiasm. Surprise breakfast was welcome in my life, anytime. The scrambled eggs were unexpectedly piping hot, and the toast was crisp. A plate of fruit and a pot of coffee also greeted me on the perfect breakfast tray. I fell upon it. The minute I started eating, I realised I was completely famished after missing dinner the night before.
Next on the agenda was a shower. I unpacked my toiletries and placed my favourite one-piece swimmers, which sucked me in a whole dress size, and a maxi dress on the bed. My wide-brimmed hat was ever so slightly crushed from the flight, but it was definitely needed to cover my hair, which was at risk of frizzing in the sultriness of the day, and to provide sun protection. I pulled my wet strands into a tight braid to avoid a humidity horror.
Once dressed, I grabbed my phone, picked up my book, a thriller – absolutely no romance novels allowed – and finally crossed the room to push back the curtains and face the day, like a normal human. It was so fucking bright that I had aNosferatumoment, hissing as I stepped back in the room. I picked up sunglasses and sunscreen, steeling myself to try again.
I finally emerged into the daylight and absorbed the breathtaking beauty of the resort. The Indian Ocean lapped gently at the island’s white sand, the water a clear turquoise. There was an umbrella ahead with a deck chair that looked perfect for my reading spot for the day, and I walked to it, relieved I had found shade so that I would not end up looking like a lobster on day one.
It was warm, and much more humid than I had expected, so that after fifteen minutes I had to stand up and strip off my dress. There were not that many people about, only three couples sitting under umbrellas like mine further to my left. There was enough space between us all that I did not feel the need to chat or give awkward waves, making this little introvert very relieved indeed.
I did a quick check, interested to see if my mystery knight in shining armour was a half of one of the couples, but all the men were fairer than I remembered him being.
Peter and I had honeymooned in the Maldives. It genuinely felt like a lifetime ago. I remember trying, even then, to establish if I was happy, almost trying to talk myself into happiness. Even though our relationship ended six months ago, it had been decaying for years. Why had I settled for that? Thoughts plagued me as I wondered why I had held on to the misery that everyday life became, wearing us both down. He was right to end it. Part of me understood that.
Deep down, I could admit that staying had felt like a responsibility to the family we had created. But I was also starting to see the part my passiveness played in it. Having a fluid and easygoing attitude often left me sailing along with a tide, rather than fighting against the direction I was headed. A pathological avoidance of conflict meant I would often just move on when I was upset or angry, rather than confront it. To some people, that might seem more than introverted or reserved. To some people, maybe it seemed I was passionless.
I was going to have to limit the amount of time I spent thinking about this crap or Oliver’s welfare checks might actually be needed. I stood up and walked to the water’s edge, prepared to repeat last night’s rebirth every time my head got too negative. The temperature of the ocean was exquisite. I was able to walk right in rather than needing to ease my way. In Sydney, the ocean temperature was always a little cool. This felt tropical and heavenly, and I waded in up to my shoulders and lay back, looking up to a cerulean sky, floating my heart and my head to an easier place.
When my fingers started to wrinkle a little, I reluctantly went back to my seat. The water was refreshing despite its temperature, and I felt significantly better. I resumed my book and had a sip of water to ease my post-booze thirst. God, this was actually bliss. Noticing a QR code on the table, I scanned it to bring up the hotel’s menu and cocktail list, swallowing the squeal of delight that sounded in my head. I picked something with coconut, rum and citrus, thinking it was island appropriate.
When Oliver arrived with it, I looked at him, aghast. The cocktail was ridiculous; it looked as if it had arrived from the set ofFantasy Islandbut had attended Mardi Gras on the way. If a cocktail could have a feather boa, this one would have.
What the fuck?‘Is that glitter?’ I asked, looking up at him. Pulling down my sunglasses, I studied the drink as if it were an alien specimen.
‘Yes.’ He paused. ‘It’s edible glitter. Wait, this isn’t going to set you off? It’s just a cocktail. Please don’t cry.’
‘I’m not going to cry over a cocktail,’ I scoffed, annoyed. ‘Are you the only staff member at the resort?’ My relationship with the porter was getting weird.
‘I’ve worked here this summer, an internship if you like. But I’m genuinely worried about you here.’ He paused, and I got the impression he liked to consider his words before speaking them. ‘You were very sad last night, and you are by yourself. My brother raised me to make sure people were okay.’
‘Your brother raised you?’
‘Yeah, our mum and dad died when we were younger.’
‘I’m very sorry to hear that,’ I said sincerely.
‘Thanks.’ His eyes dropped to the ground. ‘Listen, Ms Parker, you shouldn’t just read books about serial killers and drink while you’re here. Make sure you do things. I’ve booked you on a trip to the private island tomorrow. And I booked you in for dinner tonight, too.’
I shook my head. ‘Oliver,’ I said, as if we had known each other for a lifetime, ‘I don’t need you to babysit me. I’m okay.’
‘Ms Parker, you’d be doing me a favour. It is my last fortnight at the resort, and my assignment is to experience being your personal valet,’ he added with a genteel shrug of his muscled shoulder.
‘Oliver, I didn’t pay enough to have a personal valet, so it feels weird, and I don’t want to hang out with couples on this holiday. Like, at all.’
‘There isn’t anyone else booked on tomorrow’s tour. It’s just you so far. We serve lunch and champagne on the private island.’
The trip went up in my books. ‘Well. I suppose that sounds nice. But I’m not sure about dinner.’
‘You must. I insist, Ms Parker.’
