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‘OK.’
The Lido of Venice had originally been a barrier of silt built up over centuries by local rivers rushing down from the Dolomite mountains, carrying m
ud and sand which was thrown out into the Adriatic and stuck there, forming a very elongated, narrow island with some fine sandy beaches which became the playground of Venice. Always crowded, these were now lined with cabins, some belonging to the Lido’s grand hotels, others rented by local people or visitors.
Antonia hadn’t often been over there, but she had stayed at the Grand Hotel des Bains for a few days once. One of the gracious, faintly old-fashioned hotels from the nineteenth century, the hotel had a private beach near by, and Antonia could remember spending hours there.
Today, though, Patrick took her to another beach, where they each rented a mattress and umbrella, side by side. The beach wasn’t as crowded as she had thought it would be, since the heat of the day was subsiding now and people were beginning to leave the beach and head for home, but there were plenty of people still around—children running about, laughing and shouting, teenagers splashing in the sea, playing beach-ball, and older people asleep in the shade.
Antonia was wearing a smooth-fitting black swimsuit which left her tanned shoulders, arms and legs bare, but demurely covered the rest of her. When she emerged from the changing-room to find Patrick waiting she was very self-conscious, expecting some teasing comment from him, but apart from flicking a wry, narrowed glance over her he merely said, ‘Do you want a long, cool drink first, or shall we have a swim right away?’
‘A swim,’ she said, dying to get into the water.
‘OK,’ Patrick agreed, and they both headed for the water’s edge, the hot sand burning the soles of their feet.
Antonia only meant to splash around a little, to get cool, but while she was idly swimming along Patrick suddenly dived beside her and she felt him grabbing her feet and pulling her under the blue lagoon.
She gave a little scream, half laughter, half alarm, and kicked violently, forcing her way back up to the surface, and began to swim far faster.
‘You can’t get away from me, Antonia!’ he called out, and she felt her heart knock at her breast.
She put on a further spurt, using all her energy to push herself through the water. She was quite a good swimmer, and she was very fit. Without thinking, she headed out further and further from the Lido until the sounds of voices, the laughter and chatter, died away behind her and the only sounds she heard were the slap and splash of the waves around her, the laboured breathing of her own lungs, and the sound of Patrick forging a path behind her.
He reached for her again and she put on another burst of speed to get away.
‘Antonia, what the hell do you think you’re doing?’ he yelled, but she ignored him, her eyes almost closed as water swirled across her face while she swam onwards.
She was tiring now; her body seemed very heavy, it was hurting to breathe and her muscles were aching. How much longer could she go on? she thought. Maybe she should head back now?
Getting worried, she slowed, shot a look over her shoulder, and saw Patrick’s set, grim face not far behind, his bronzed hair dark with sea water, his arms and shoulders smoothly working to push him through the waves, and far, far behind him the beach in the distance, hazy in the late afternoon sunlight, the figures of people on the sand seeming very small, and wavering, like mirages.
It was further than she had thought it would be. She bit her lip, beginning to turn, and that was the moment when cramp struck. A spasm of pain hit her and she gave a cry of agony, corkscrewing, beginning to sink, struggling. She had never felt pain like it.
As she cried out she swallowed water and began to cough and choke, going into panic as she realised she was in serious trouble.
Patrick reached her a moment later. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Cramp. Terrible cramp,’ she breathlessly groaned.
He gave her a furious look; she expected him to shout at her, but instead he lifted his head clear of the water and looked around, groaning. ‘And we’re a hell of a long way from land.’ Then he stiffened, staring to one side for an instant, before quickly turning back to Antonia. ‘Look, if you can’t swim, could you float, do you think? I’ve just seen a small sand bar over to the left. If we can make it there you can rest for a while until you’re fit enough to swim back to land. Will you risk it? You’ll have to trust me. If you start panicking, we could both drown.’
The cramp was getting worse; she was in such pain that she could barely stand it. She nodded, unable to speak. Patrick gave her a searching look, frowning.
‘OK, put your arms round my waist, and go limp; float on the top of the water if you can and try to keep to one side of me, so that I can use my arms and legs to propel us both along.’
She shakily obeyed, sliding her arms around the middle of his body, and fought to ignore the cramp still torturing her. Patrick began to swim, pulling her along with him. She felt every movement of his body as it drove through the water, his legs rippling along beside hers, his body cold and wet in her arms. It wasn’t easy to stay limp, to give herself up to his control. Fear thickened her throat, she was shivering violently, and the minutes seemed to drag by. The cramp in her legs seemed to be getting worse; she had to bite on her lip to stop a cry of anguish.
At last, though, the waves threw them both up on the narrow sand bar, like drowned animals. They lay on their faces, panting, trembling; it was several minutes before Antonia could even sit up and start massaging her cramped legs, feeling the agony gradually subside.
Patrick sat up beside her a moment later, his chest still heaving and his breathing noisy.
Antonia gasped out, ‘Thank you; you saved my life.’
‘It’s always stupid to take risks with the sea,’ Patrick said, looking sideways at her, his hair slicked down against his skull, making the strength of his bone-structure stand out.
‘I realise I was stupid,’ she said crossly. ‘No need to rub it in!’
‘I just want to be sure you won’t do that again; I might not be here next time,’ he said drily. ‘How’s the cramp now?’
