"Give me a break, Johnno."
"I'd rather see you smash his nose than spend the next months freezing
him out, or working up to killing him in his sleep."
"I've got no problem with P.M.," Brian said carefully. "It's his life."
"And your wife."
Brian shot Johnno a vicious look, but he managed, barely, to contr(YI
the ugly words that sprung to mind. "Bev hasn't been my wife for a long
time."
Johnno glanced over to be certain Emma was still out of earshot. "That
line's all right for anyone else. Not for me, Bri." He put a hand on
Brian's wrist, squeezed, then released. "I know it's going to he hard
for you. I just want to make sure you're ready."
He lifted his glass, remembered it was empty, and set it down again.
Despite the breeze off the water, he was finding the heat oppressive.
"You can't go back, Johnno. And you can't stand still. So you keep
going forward whether you're ready or not."
"Oh, that was great!" Emma dropped to her knees between her father and
Johnno, her hair streaming. "You should come out."
"In the water?" Johnno said, tilting down his blue-lensed sunglasses.
"Emma, luy, there are things in the water. Slimy things."
Laughing, she leaned over to kiss his cheek, then her father's. She
caught the sharp scent of rum and fought to keep her smile in place.
"Old people sit on the beach," she said lightly. "Middle-aged people
sit on the beach."
"Middle-aged?" Brian caught a Thank of her hair and tugged. "Just whore
you calling middle-aged?"
"Oh, just people who sit on the beach all morning with umbrellas at
their backs." She grinned. "Why don't you two sit right here, rest
yourselves. I'll fetch you a cold drink. And I!il get my camera. I
can take pictures so you can look back and remember your nice, restful
vacation."
"She's got a mouth on her, Bri."
"I've noticed."
"Shall we let her get by with it?"
He glanced at his friend. "Not a chance."
She squealed when they lunged. She could have been quicker, if she'd
wanted to, but put up a good wriggling fight as her father grabbed her
legs and Johnno hooked his hands under her arms.
"Into the brink, I'd say." Johnno tossed back his head so that his hat
landed in the sand. Then keeping pace with Brian raced to the water.
Emma held her breath, and took them under with her.
SHE'D NEVER BEEN H"PIER in her life. It had all been perfect,
completely, wonderfully perfect. Days in the sun, nights listening to
Johnno and her father play. Cheating with Johnno at cards. Walks along
the beach with her father. She had rolls of film to develop, pockets of
memory to store.
So how could she sleep? Emma wondered. It was her last night on
Martinique, her last night with her father. Her last night of freedom.
Tomorrow she would be on a plane, headed back to school, where there
were rules for everything. What time to get up, what time to sleep,