‘What do we do now?’ Robert’s voice was edgy, angry.
The little boat floated further out on the rising waves.
‘Swim to it?’ Maree hoped she sounded positive.
Robert snorted. ‘After you.’ He pointed at the swelling waters. A triangular black shape cut the surface, weaving back and forth.
Maree abandoned positivity for aggression. ‘You were the one who insisted we’d pulled the boat up far enough.’
Robert shrugged. ‘And you were the one who insisted we go for a blasted walk along the cliffs and have our picnic up there.’ He jabbed a thumb at the rocky cliff face where a winding path overhung with tropical foliage had tempted Maree’s sense of adventure.
‘The resort people will wonder, eventually, won’t they?’ she said, falling back to optimism.
‘Yes.’ Robert drew a wavy line in the sand with his bare toe. ‘And they’ll search on the island we were supposed to visit.’
Maree’s defences slammed into place like a grille at a bank being robbed. ‘That one looked boring, flat, dull. Nothing there.’ She was highly aware that once again her need to explore had taken them off course. She might regret this. ‘But,’ she twisted to look into Robert’s face with pleading eyes, ‘they’ll send up helicopters, find the boat floating, launch rescue boats.’
He glared, said nothing.
‘It’ll be fine.’ She needed affirmation.
It came, grudgingly, with a scowl. ‘Probably.’
Maree scanned the sea, where the boat was now but a dot on the shadowed water, for dusk was falling, quickly, as it did in the tropics. The black triangle had taken itself off, maybe. Anyway, it was now too far to swim out. She hauled at her courage, dragging out the determination she was known for.
‘We’ll play at Swiss Family Robinson.’ She turned her back on the sea and stared at the base of the cliffs where scrambled boulders offered possible shelter. ‘There’s food and water left, and there must be a stream somewhere.’ She peered at Robert. ‘Let’s get driftwood. Do you still have your fancy lighter, from the days when you smoked? We can make a fire.’
Maree found herself genuinely excited by the prospect of a night on the beach, under the stars. She wrapped her arms around Robert’s neck. ‘An adventure. How much more romantic can it get? Our own tropical island on Valentine’s Day.’
Robert returned her hug, nuzzled her salt-dried hair. ‘And I guess now, once we’re back safe, we’ll have no choice but to tell our respective spouses that we’re leaving them.’
Maree laughed into his chest. ‘That’s exactly what we’ll do next.’
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Find Cheryl’s flash fiction and short stories, including audio versions of some, here!
‘WHAT DO WE DO NOW?’
“What do we know?” The tremor in her voice confirmed the seriousness of the situation.
“I don’t know. Don’t look down, whatever you do.”
Marcie and Greg were perched on a ledge 30 stories up at Boston’s Accor Hotel, though how they had ended up there defied belief.
“It’s all your fault, Greg,” she said accusingly. “If you hadn’t insisted on trying to obtain a closer look at the next room we wouldn’t be stuck right now.”
“Yes, I know, but how else were we going to gather evidence of Brian’s infidelity if we didn’t go out on a limb, figuratively speaking.”
Greg smiled at his own weak efforts at a pun. Marcie wasn’t amused. They had come to the hotel to follow Brian Slade, whose wife suspected of having an affair and had hired the husband and wife team of private investigators to gather the appropriate evidence.
Trouble was they could hardly hang around outside his hotel door and the only way they could obtain pictorial evidence of his unfaithfulness was to climb out on the ledge and hope to peek through the window of Brian’s room.
Greg inched closer to the window and, clutching his camera, looked through the viewfinder.
Sure enough, there was Greg, naked as the day he was born locked in a passionate embrace with an equally unclothed young blonde woman.
Greg snapped as many shots as he could before retreating to where Marcie was grimly hanging on for dear life.
“Ok, got ‘em. Now let’s shuffle back to our own room,” he said.
“Can’t,” said Marcie. “My right leg is stuck and refuses to move.”
“Come on, Marcie, you’ll just have to. We can’t stay out here all day.”
Just then, someone yelled from the street below.
“Look, up there on that hotel ledge. A man and a woman. Are they going to jump? Someone call the fire brigade.”
Greg looked down to see people looking up and gesticulating.
A fire engine siren could be heard in the distance, the sound quickly becoming louder.
“Hang on,” someone else yelled. “We’ve called the fire brigade. They’ll save you.”
“We’re fine,” Greg called out. “Just had to get something. We’re climbing back in now.”
“No, we are not,” fumed Marcie. “I literally cannot move my leg.”
“Geez,” said Greg. “Of all the times to seize up.”
A few minutes later, a fireman’s ladder bumped against the ledge with one of Boston’s finest peering over the edge.
“You ok?” he inquired.
“No, we are not,” responded Marcie, angrily. “It’s all my husband’s fault.”
“Long story,” said Greg, smiling weakly.
Soon after husband and wife were safely on the ground – but not before Brian Slade, having heard the commotion, had leaned out his window and quickly realised what was happening.
“Got to get that camera,” he muttered. “Otherwise my goose is well and truly cooked.”
Brian pushed through the assembled crowd as Greg and Marcie were being examined by paramedics and quickly grabbed the damning evidence.
“Thanks for this,” he said, as he sprinted down the street and around the next corner.
Damn!
Very funny. Love the surprise ending. Hope they don’t live to regret it 😂😂
Me too.