I rinse out my wounds, then grab a lime from the fruit bowl and slice it in half. Before I can think too much about it, I rub it over the cuts. It’s the best way to guard against infections from coral scrapes, but it stings like fire. I bite my lip, snarling “Motherfucker,” under my breath. Once I’m done, I cover everything with a bandage, then look around. There’s a sheet somewhere, I saw it last night, with information about the island. I need to find a medical facility. Maybe I should head back to Bali and find a doctor there. I need to speak to Zach, properly anyway… But as soon as I think it my stomach twists.
I don’t want to go back to Bali.
I don’t want to look at Zach’s messages, either. I came here for a break and, even though it’s been an absolutely shitty twenty-four hours, this place is already having an effect on me. I’m starting to feel like myself again, like the old me is fighting her way back out from under all the layers of personality. As though here, I can be free. Anna said this place was magical, and maybe she’s right.
I’m not ready to leave. Not without giving myself the chance to find out.
I scan the list of amenities. It’s not long; a bar, a general store, a restaurant, a few other shops. And, thank god, a medical facility.
I quickly comb out the tangles in my hair, shrug on a short kaftan dress and sandals, then grab my wallet and head out.
Axel
I’m still thinking about the girl on the beach on my return. The cuts on her leg looked nasty. Kind of like her personality.
Then I realise who she had to be. The mysterious Jade. My as yet unknown guest. Shit. She might not know about the dangers of getting a coral scrape, especially considering her old board. Back at my place, I dig around under the sink, looking for my first aid kit. Pulling it out, I grab a lime from the bowl on the counter before heading outside, taking the pathway to her cabin.
When I get there, I recognise the surfboard, propped up against the railing. It’s badly dinged, the tip gone as well as a chunk off the side, and a fin is missing. Yet it still has beautiful lines, and I can tell how well-balanced it must be to ride.
There are spots of blood on the veranda, leading around the side of the cabin. I head that way, calling out “hello,” just in case she’s showering. But there’s no hiss of water, no sign of her apart from a swirl of sand around the plughole, and her damp rash vest hanging over the screen.
I go back around the front and knock on the door. There’s no answer. Shit. I hope she’s all right. I knock again, louder, then try the door. “Hello?”
I stick my head inside, but there’s no one there. Just a blood-soaked towel in the sink, and a cut lime on the counter. I guess that answers my question about whether or not she knows about coral infection, although she could have just been making herself a drink. The list of island amenities is out on the table, so hopefully she’s headed for the medical centre. I leave a couple of bandages and a tube of antiseptic cream on the table just in case, then head out, closing the door behind me. I pause, running a hand over her damaged surfboard, wondering whether I should take it with me and leave her a note.
In the end, I decide against it. She can come and find me, if she needs to. There’s nothing else I can do to help.
As I head back to the house, my phone buzzes again. Another message pops up from my father.
Our decision is made. You had your chance. Please, try to understand our position.
My jaw tightens, my fist clenching around my phone. I’m tempted to throw it into the ocean. But then I’d just have to get a new phone.
Fuck, though. This is not good news.
ChapterSeven
Jade
The village centre is small, just a few tidy low-roofed buildings along a main street, all built in a traditional island style, with smaller streets branching off to the sides. Stray dogs lie in the shade, tongues lolling out, and I glimpse glossy brown cattle in a field nearby. It’s like something out of the past. I look down at the map again. I’m standing next to a long low pavilion edged with green bushes, palm trees bending overhead. It’s built of timber with a thatched, pointed roof, the sides of the building open. I glimpse tables and chairs, the dull gleam of a well-stocked bar, and what looks like a dance floor and stage.
A carved wooden sign hangs from the eaves, adorned with a yellow and orange flower and the words Hibiscus Alley. This must be the club. As much as I’d like a drink, it doesn’t look as though it’s open. Besides, I really do need to get my leg looked at. It’s aching, and the dressing I put over the deepest wound already feels damp. I find the nightclub on the map. The medical centre is almost directly opposite. Convenient, I guess.
I head across the street to another pavilion-style building, though this one has walls made of traditional mud brick and plaster. I push open the glass door and stop, blinking in surprise.
The space inside is cool, tiled and luxurious, everything in earth tones. It’s like stepping into a private doctor’s office. Not at all what I expected. A young woman, her dark hair pulled back and a flower over one ear, sits behind a glossy, curved desk.
“Can I help you?” she calls, smiling.
“Uh, I need to see a doctor. I’ve injured my leg. Sorry, is this the medical centre?” Perhaps I’ve wandered into a spa or something.
“Of course, please fill out this form and take a seat.” The woman hands me a clipboard and gestures to a group of soft leather chairs.
“Thanks.” I sit down, still slightly bemused. This place is nothing like I expected. I don’t mean just the doctor’s office. Everything about this island, from the sleek cruiser collecting me at the port to the quiet luxury of my cabin, has been a surprise. Then I think of Anna and grin. She does tend to prefer the finer things in life, and this is one of her favourite places. I’m beginning to see why.
I fill out the form with my insurance details and hand it in, and a short while later I’m ushered into a spotless consulting room, decorated in the same soft earth tones as the lobby. Another young woman, dressed in a white lab coat over a long batik dress, smiles at me. “I’m Dr. Lestari.” She shakes my hand. “Have a seat on the bed, please, and let’s take a look at this leg.”
I do as she asks. She pulls on a pair of latex gloves then gently peels away the dressing I applied. It stings like hell and I have to bite my lip, my eyes watering.
