Chapter 24
Ore
Peristéri Island (property of Chuck Regas)
Ore felt awash with relief to be standing on dry land. Apparently there was a limit to how much seasickness pills could achieve, especially if you threw them up within half an hour of taking them. Daniel had helped her off the boat, and the concern in his eyes had embarrassed her. She was supposed to be working, not another one of Chuck’s high-maintenance guests.
The island was almost obscenely idyllic. Ore imagined it couldn’t take longer than about thirty minutes to walk round the entire perimeter of it. An oblong of luscious green encircled by a wide band of demerara sugar sand, tapering into shallow turquoise water. It seemed uninhabited, not a building to be seen. Ore concluded that Chuck probably owned it.
Agatha was sitting with a glass of what looked like champagne in hand, on a large picnic blanket. All three of the men sitting around her appeared to be amused by what she had to say. Ore was finding this personality shift from Agatha both bizarre and intriguing.
‘There’s drinks, nibbles and another blanket in the hamper. I’m going to head back to get Nicole and the rest of the suppliesnow, sir.’ Oscar was holding both his hands behind his back as he spoke, his head lowered slightly. Ore found the subservient hierarchy of the boat uncomfortably feudal.
‘Thanks, Oscar,’ Chuck and Daniel said in unison. Ore cringed slightly when it was Daniel’s turn to bow his head and say, ‘Sorry, sir.’
Chuck seemed to find the whole thing amusing, slapping Daniel on the back and walking over to the rest of the guests.
Ore was standing to the side of them, a little way off, trying her best to flush away the nausea with big breaths of sea air. Daniel walked towards her, stopping at an awkward angle away from her and then turning so they stood side by side.
‘How are you feeling?’ he asked.
‘I’ve felt better,’ she admitted. ‘Just as I got accustomed to theThalassa, here you go testing my limits again!’ She was teasing him but he looked so apologetic, she felt a bit bad.
‘Sorry about that. I tried to make the ride as smooth as possible.’
‘No, no, sorry, I didn’t mean it as a comment on your … driving.’ She wasn’t sure what the right terminology was. He chuckled and she found herself smiling at his warm laugh.
‘To be honest I’m just a bit stressed about getting this piece done. I’ve been here for three days and I haven’t written a single word of the article yet. I’m not even sure what my angle is.’ She wasn’t sure why she was telling him this; something about his presence made her feel like she could confide in him.
‘Angle? I thought it was just a profile piece? Don’t you have enough from your chat with Chuck?’ He was asking innocently enough, and the lack of eye contact made her want to openup. In truth it was a bit of a lonely experience, being out here, away from the bustle of her auntie’s house, with its comings and goings. And usually she’d have her friends to talk to about whatever it was she was working on.
‘Oh you know us journalists, there’s always an angle. I just have this feeling that there’s something more to it …’ She couldn’t quite articulate it. ‘Something more, I don’t know … going on?’
She glanced over at him, and noticed him tense, almost imperceptibly.
‘It might be easier to just stick to the brief though, no? Write up your conversation with Chuck and just enjoy yourself for the rest of your time here.’ His tone had changed into something more forceful.
‘Is that advice or an order from up above?’ she asked, motioning her head in Chuck’s direction.
Daniel looked at her, his eyes almost pleading. He looked like he was trying to work out what to say next, but in the end he settled on: ‘Neither. I’m not the writer; what would I know?’
Ore wished he would just tell her what was on his mind, partly because she sensed it might help her understand the ‘something going on’ and partly because it seemed to be burdening him.
‘Anyway, duty calls. You should ask Nicole for some ginger tea when she gets here.’ With that, he strode away. Ore wondered how on earth tea could be brewed on a desert island.
Soon the dinghy arrived carrying Carlos – who must have been stowed away somewhere on the bigger boat – Nicole and an unfathomable amount of ‘supplies’. Ore wandered back over to the guests.
‘Have a drink, Ore, it might do you some good to relax into it.’ Chuck passed her a glass of something sparkling. She worried she might not be able to keep it down, but took a sip out of politeness. It turned out to be delicious, and next thing she knew, she had polished off another two glasses.
As the guests drank, the crew busied themselves setting up a marquee, dining table and what looked like a fully operational gas barbecue, which was hooked up to a huge canister. Ore marvelled at the power of money.
The conversation was mainly centred around Chuck, Frederik and Ousman talking about their MIT days; Agatha and Richard seemed to have their own repartee going about their time at Cambridge, albeit over fifty years apart. Ore sat quietly grazing on the delights of the mezze board and drinking more than she’d intended. She listened, and occasionally laughed politely, but she was becoming more aware that with every passing minute she was losing out on the opportunity to get answers.
Claude was sitting apart from the group, further up the beach, which nobody seemed surprised by. She resolved to buck up, stop acting like this was a holiday and go do some actual journalism.
She stood up and excused herself. ‘Just going for a little wander,’ she explained.
‘Careful that you don’t run into any big bad wolves in the forest.’ Frederik had loosened up too, after a few glasses. ‘Or one big bad wolf in particular.’ He looked over pointedly to where Claude was sitting, and the other two men laughed.
