Twist Of Fate

Forty One

CHLOE 

The rain continues throughout the night, but our little tent doesn't let us down. The man in the camping shop in Totnes obviously sold us a good one because it has kept us and our belongings as dry as a bone despite the various downpours. Around three a.m. I fumble around for a pair of pyjama bottoms and a hoodie, since Harry has long since rolled away and curled himself into a tight ball with his back to me. The drop in temperature has meant I have woken up feeling stiff and miserable, and longing for a hot shower to warm my bones. 

After finding myself beneath Harry once again last night, somehow still unable to reject him, I can't help feeling sick with anxiety trying to anticipate his mood today. Surely he can't ignore me again? Although, I would prefer to be ignored than hissed at like yesterday when I suggested he leave some of his tatty belongings behind at the hotel on the seafront. But would he really treat me badly again, after letting me get so close to him for the second time in two nights? I wish I could confidently answer myself NO, but realistically he could have some sort of split personality disorder, given the way he has behaved recently.

I am just wondering if I might actually have hit the nail on the head with this notion when I feel him stir next to me, and I look over to see him push himself into a sitting position, rubbing his left eye with the heel of his hand.

I bite my lip, afraid to speak, and once his eyes focus he looks over at me with a slight frown. "Fucking freezing last night."

"Yeah," I agree, my heart lifting a little.

"Thought the tent was gonna flood." 

"Yeah I wondered if it would withstand all that rain," I nod. "It seemed to do the job, though." 

"Not like we can take it back for a refund." 

I giggle sycophantically, my insides dancing a jig at his apparent lift in mood.

"Is it still raining?" he asks after a moment.

I am about to open the flap and look out, when I stop myself. Since when did I become his slave?

"No idea," I reply. "I can't hear anything, so I presume not."

He leans forward and lifts the zip to peer out onto the beach. The surface of the sand is wet and looking down to the water I can see the waves breaking impatiently onto the shoreline; white and frothy, and nothing like the relaxed, calming monotony they presented yesterday. The sky overhead is grey and forbidding, a world away from the cornflower blue. It strikes me that we have been lucky with the weather so far on our journey, and not once have we had to worry seriously about shelter from the elements. I have a feeling that may be about to change.

"We should be able to get a hot drink from the café soon," I tell him, hoping this will add to his seemingly positive demeanour. "I think it opens fairly early."

He nods slowly, apparently thinking. "Are there showers here?"

"Only cold ones for rinsing sand off, as far as I know," I reply. "I think our best bet for a full wash is probably a quick dip in the sea, although it'll be icy cold at this time in the morning."

He grunts. "Better than nothing, I suppose." 

Before I can respond he pulls a pair of boxers out of his bag, wriggles into them beneath his sleeping bag and then crawls out of the tent. I push open the flap and stare after him, my mouth hanging open as he jogs down the beach towards the sea without a backward glance, his hair bouncing on top of his head and the sand spraying beneath him with every step. 

He reaches the shore and as his feet splash into the incoming wave I hear his howl of shock, presumably at the temperature of the water. I throw my head back and laugh out loud at his gangly legs skipping over the waves in an attempt to slow himself down without falling over, but it's too late - the force of his momentum is too strong against the resistance of the water and I watch as he stumbles and falls to his knees, giving a screech of misery as a huge wave hits him head on, covering his entire body with freezing grey saltwater.