Page 90 of Swept Away

I turn.The Merry Dormouseis sinking. As we watch, a wave sweeps over the deck, where the railing hangs half off, jagged and wrong-looking, like a broken bone. Our bedroom’s already under the water. As I watch, something goes tumbling past one of the shattered windows, and it feels completely surreal to be standing out here, looking in. It would’ve been us tumbling backward into the depths in there.

She fights—she rears against the force pulling her down, but there’s no saving her now. For a few short breaths, she disappears, reappears, disappears, her nose breaking through the waves. Then she’s gone.

My eyes sting. I turn back to Lexi and press my forehead hard to hers.

“She was amazing,” Lexi says, choked through her tears. “That boat. She was our lifeline.”

“I know. I know.”

“She saved us.”

“Wesaved us,” I correct her, but I’m crying for the houseboat, crying to see her gone. “We did this. OK? All right, Lexi? It doesn’tend for us.” My voice is so hoarse I don’t know if she can hear me, so I say it again, my skin clammy and cold against hers. “It doesn’t end for us. Not like this, not ever. Do you understand me?”

She nods, forehead still pressed to mine. She gets it. We faced the storm and we’ve survived it. I know she understands. Because if we’ve got through this…what the hell could ever tear us apart?

Daytwelve

Zeke

They introduce themselves.Kiki, Steve, Gareth, Paddy, Ash, Madur, smiling as they pull life jackets over our shoulders and pass us bottles of water, asking questions about injuries, asking us what we need.

There’s only one thing Lexi needs, though.

“A phone,” she says, gripping Kiki’s arm. “Please.”

The woman pauses, ducking down—she’s almost six foot, and Lexi seems smaller than ever with her shoulders hunched against the cold wind.

“Lexi needs to warm up,” I say, looking around me.

Everyone’s moving so…comfortably. Like there’s no rush now. Steve’s speaking into a radio, Madur’s gently trying to usher Lexi inside the boat, but the urgency we had in the houseboat’s gone, and with it, the edge seems to have eased away from the storm. The waves are choppy, but standing here on the lifeboat deck in the steady rain, it doesn’t even look like a storm. I bet this wouldn’t make the news—probably doesn’t cut it for a storm name. Not even an article about blown-over dustbins.

“Here,” says Steve, wrapping a foil blanket around my shoulders.

I shake my head, impatient, trying to pull it off so I can give it to Lexi, and he smiles.

“Gareth’s got one for her,” he says quietly. “We’ll get her inside in the dry, all right? And have Madur check her out. Then you.”

I nod, making eye contact for a moment. He gets it. I fought so hard for Lexi for all this time, and I’m not done yet.

Steve’s got one of those mild, open faces, the kind I associate with vicars and middle-aged dads. He’s wearing a camera on his forehead, and I find myself staring into its blinking red light instead of at his eyes. I glance away, toward Lexi, pale in the lights of the boat. She’s now bundled under at least two foil blankets and is talking fast to Kiki, who’s pulling out a weird-looking phone, more walkie-talkie than mobile. Looking at Lexi makes me feel less crazy. Her hair’s completely soaked, lying in stripes on her bare neck. I need to touch her, hold her, check she’s really there.

“You remember the number?” Kiki says to her. “Let’s get inside—Lexi, right?”

Lexi snatches the phone like a starved person grabbing at scraps. Kiki looks startled, glancing over at Madur, who already has an arm hovering around Lexi, trying to direct her down the steps into the area labeledSurvivor Space.

“Lex, come on,” I say, grabbing her hand and pulling. “We need to get off the deck.”

She looks up at me. Her eyes are wild. “I don’t know if I remember Penny’s number,” she whispers. “I taught it to Mae, but I can’t…is it oh sevensixfour nine, or…”

“Lexi, I need to sit down,” I say.

Her eyes sharpen. She glances around, as though coming to.

“In there,” she says to me, pointing to the survivor space. “Now.”

“What a good idea,” says Madur.

I lead us down the narrow flight of steps into the body of thelifeboat. It’s glaring down here, lit by overbright strip lighting. There’re seats lining each side, with padded straps and grips dangling from the ceiling to keep yourself braced. I sit, and Lexi stumbles into the seat opposite me, eyes down on the phone. The boat’s engine is deafeningly loud down here—the sound’s so comforting after the chaotic roar of the wind.

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