A man stopped him. “Hey, Tris, everyone okay?”
“Everyone is fine. All good, thanks, Jim.” Without pausing for conversation, he propelled her up the stairs and into her room.
Closing the door behind them he strode to the bathroom and turned on the shower.
“You need to warm up.”
She waited for him to leave and when he didn’t, she sighed.
“I’m not undressing in front of you.”
“That’s not what you said last night.” There was humour in his eyes, and she gave him a look.
“You could have ignored that. You could have not mentioned it. That would have been the kind thing to do.” Past caring what he thought, she slid off her shoes. “Obviously I will never be drinking again.”
“Why not? It was a fun evening. You’re a great piano player. And a sexy dancer. And, it turns out, a strong swimmer. Which is something we are all grateful for, Chrissy most of all.”
“You knew the family?” She was halfway through removing her sweatshirt, and paused. “Chrissy. Holly.” She nodded. “Of course. I thought she looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her. I met her the first day I arrived at the hotel. Evie was talking to her. How do you know her?”
“Her husband comes in here for a drink occasionally at weekends. Spends most of it on the phone wheeling and dealing. Rich city type. He’ll probably give you a reward.”
“The only thing I want is for my headache to go away.”
She saw him raise an eyebrow and knew he was thinking of the night before. And she was thinking of it too, even though she was trying not to.
“Get in the shower, Abby,” he muttered. “You’re freezing.”
She threw her damp sweatshirt over the chair. “I will. When you’ve gone.”
He hesitated. “Okay. I’m going to get you a bowl of soup. I’ll be back.”
“Don’t bother.” But she was talking to herself because he’d already left the room.
Too tired to care too much what he thought about her, she undressed. She was tempted to flop onto the bed and skip the shower part, but he was right about her being cold.
She needed that hot shower.
She stripped off and headed to the bathroom. It was already steamy and she stepped into the shower and closed her eyes. Instantly her head was filled with images. The mother screaming. The flash of pink. She kept visualising a scenario where she hadn’t been able to find the child. And another where the child couldn’t be resuscitated.
Trying to block it out, she shampooed her hair to remove the salt and seawater and stood under the hot jet of water for another five minutes.
“Abby?” His voice came through the door and she sighed and turned off the water.
He was persistent, she had to give him that.
“I’m fine.” She dried herself and rubbed at her hair, then pulled on the white dressing gown that hung on the back of the door, taking her time in the hope that he’d be gone by the time she came out.
No such luck.
When she stepped out of the bathroom Tristan was standing by her little table, unloading food from a tray.
“I brought you a small bowl of soup, and some toast. Did you swallow a lot of seawater?”
“Some.” She sat down at the table. “I’m not hungry. I just want to sleep.”
“Just a few mouthfuls.”
Deciding that the sooner she ate something, the sooner he’d be gone, she picked up the spoon but her hand was shaking badly and she put it down again.
