Her hands clenched as sweat trickled between her breasts, down her back. The sun beat down relentlessly, heating her skin while internally her blood was frozen and her stomach a lump of ice. Love was an intangible, and always out of her reach. She’d been searching for love since the day her brother got sick and her parents no longer had time for her. She’d been trying too hard to be loved by someone special. It might be time to accept it wasn’t going to happen and she should just get on with her life. Get busy so she didn’t notice no one was there for her, with her.
Or maybe she should relax, have some uncomplicated fun as Cherry and Shelley suggested and see where that took her.
Alesha gulped a mouthful of champagne, spluttered as it went down the wrong way.
Stop feeling sorry for yourself.
‘Yeah,’ she sighed. She did have a darned good life living in London, sharing a house with other nurses she got on well with and often contracted to work in some of the best hospitals. Much more exciting and interesting than living in Christchurch, New Zealand, where she’d grown up.
Taking a small sip of the champagne this time, she groaned out loud in exasperation. Her clenched hand pounded the mattress at her side. What a fantastic way to start a holiday. She was not going to spend the week lying on the bed feeling sorry for herself. She was not.
Okay. Message received. She’d start enjoying the sun, the blue sky that went for ever, the view of hills and the harbour below. Even the champagne that in all honesty wasn’t flash in its warmish state. There was a whole world out there waiting to be explored. Alesha would not leave here next weekend without knowing the sights and sounds and smells of Dubrovnik. But first she was going to get into that pool and cool off, physically and mentally. Then she’d go for a walk and see what was nearby for eating out. If her appetite returned by the end of the week, that was.
Luke could go to hell in a wheelbarrow. A rusty one with a flat tyre. There were other men out there.
Exhaustion pulled at her.
A sad sigh escaped. She would have a great time despite going solo. She really, really would, as soon as she’d had a snooze. Yeah, sure. Her eyes stung, proving she wasn’t quite ready to let go the hurt. But crying was not happening. Rarely since the day when she was ten, and stood at her brother’s graveside to drop onto the coffin the silver clock shaped like a Labrador and small enough to fit in the palm of Ryan’s hand, had Alesha given into tears. The clock had been bought out of hard-earned pocket money mowing lawns for Dad and the people next door. Ryan had been meant to get better and take it with him wherever he went in the future.
She laid back and closed her eyes, savouring the sun as she’d done so often on family holidays a good many years ago. Sun, sea, surf. It was what Kiwis made the most of every summer around Christmas and New Year. A relaxed, exciting time with family and friends, just mucking about in the water, catching fish...
* * *
A light breeze tightened her skin. Alesha dragged her eyes open and rolled onto her back. ‘Ouch.’ Sitting up, she looked over her shoulder, got an eyeful of red skin. The tube of sunscreen was still inside her case. Probably where her brain was too. Protecting her skin from the sun was always a priority. Not today. The sun was disappearing behind the hills. And she’d wasted the afternoon getting sunburnt.
A gust of wind swished across the pool and deck, and behind her a door slammed. Her fiery skin was intensely cold for a moment then back to flaming. She shivered. Time to put on some clothes.
That door that banged shut must’ve been hers. But it was all right. It wouldn’t be locked. Not when she stood in her bikini with only a towel to wrap around her and the keys still in the pocket of her shorts lying on the floor inside.
The door didn’t budge when she turned the handle, nor when she pressed a shoulder against the wood. Seriously? No way. Someone was playing a joke on her.
She was not locked out of her apartment without clothes, money or her phone. When her stomach was complaining about lack of food. Her day had just gone from average to worse. What else could go wrong? Tipping her head back, Alesha made to shout her frustration, but hauled on the brakes at the last second. What was the point? Screaming wouldn’t miraculously unlock the door, or hand her phone over with Karolina’s number. Had she got around to putting the woman’s number in her database? She couldn’t remember. Too much emotion had been whirling around in her mind.
Looking up at the apartment above, Alesha saw a light on in the lounge. Relief was instant. Whoever was in there would have the phone number she needed to resolve this glitch.
Loud knocking on that door brought no more success than trying to open her own. The light was on but no one was home. Nor was there anyone in the other apartments when she banged on their doors. Seemed she wasn’t only alone but she might be sleeping on the lounger if she didn’t find a way of contacting Karolina.
This would be hilarious if it hadn’t happened to her. It might even be funny in a few days’ time when she recounted it to her flatmates back in London, but right now it was downright scary. Another shiver wracked her while her sunburnt skin burned and chilled equally. ‘I can’t sleep outside.’ Her stomach rumbled. ‘Yeah, and you can wait and all. There’s no dinner coming your way until this is sorted.’
Looking around the complex, she smothered the panic threatening to overwhelm her. Think. She was safe in here, cold and hungry, yes, but no one was going to get through the outside door leading from the road. Waiting until other guests came home was her only option, although who knew when that would be? Down on the narrow road cars went by slowly. From the far end of the pool she stared out at the view, which would have looked beautiful if she weren’t just a tiny bit afraid she was going to spend the whole night out here.
Lights flickered on in the next-door house. Of course. Neighbours.
Wrapping the towel tight around her, she headed for the gate and out onto the footpath. The gate snipped shut behind her. Her stomach nudged her toes. How stupid could she get? She was out on the street in a bikini and it was getting dark. Lying on the lounger by the pool all night suddenly seemed almost like fun.
Neighbours, remember. Someone would know the owner of the apartments. They had to.
They might’ve but they didn’t speak English. No one at the four houses she tried understood a word she said; instead they looked at her as though she was a madwoman gibbering away in a foreign language—she was fast approaching becoming one—and closed their doors in her face. She should’ve learnt a few more words of Croatian other than hello and thank you, though it would never have occurred to her to learn ‘how do I get in touch with Karolina?’ or ‘I need a locksmith’.
Back on the street Alesha blinked away the irritant in her eyes. Crying was not happening. This was a holiday, shambolic yes, but a holiday in a beautiful place, and meant to be enjoyed. All she had to do was find a way back into her apartment. How hard could it be?
A couple was walking up the road, talking and laughing.
Relief lifted her heart. ‘Hello. Do you speak English? Can you help me, please?’
They did stop and look at her, before shaking their heads in bewilderment and carrying on up the hill.
That had to be a no, then.
A woman came around the corner, a phone plastered to her ear.
‘Excuse me. Do you speak English?’
Apparently not. The woman didn’t even slow down.
Alesha walked down the road a hundred metres, asking everyone she saw the same questions, getting the same result.
The night stretched ahead interminably. What she wouldn’t give to be back in her flat eating yesterday’s leftovers and throwing darts at the board after she’d pinned a photo of Luke to it. It had all started with