Paradise Nights: Taken by the Bad Boy

She gave it to him, along with Nico’s mobile number.

‘Give him mine,’ said Chloe anxiously, and she gave him that too.

‘Pete—’

‘Keep in contact with Nico,’ he said. ‘Try and contact some of the other boats you know are in the area. Ferries, fishing boats, charter boats. Concentrate on finding that cat.’

‘How soon can you get here?’ She wanted him here. Needed him here. They all did.

‘Soon.’

Serena had never felt more at a loss for direction in her life. She and Chloe had taken a Vespa and scoured the nearby beaches for Sam but they’d seen no sign of him and after an hour of fruitless searching they’d decided to head for the village and for Marianne Papadopoulos’s shop. The older woman had the best gossip network on the island, they reasoned. If anyone could get people mobilised and out looking for Sam, she could.

She did. With efficiency more suited to a general than a baker Marianne Papadopoulos assembled her ranks, appointed her colonels and set them loose. Theo would contact all the vessels in the area. Other key people would organise land search parties if Sam didn’t show up soon. It was still early, she told Chloe gently. If Sam was on the island they’d find him. If he’d taken to the sea then Nico would find him. She didn’t say what they were all thinking. That for a city boy like Sam, the sea was a dangerous place and that if something happened to him out there they might never find him.

It was a big sea.

Chloe was too tense to eat; Chloe existed on coffee. Serena bypassed the coffee in favour of cake. Each to their own.

It was Marianne Papadopoulos who first heard the helicopter coming in.

‘You called Tomas’s pilot?’ she asked Serena bluntly. ‘The one you’ve been stringing along these past few weeks?’

‘Not stringing along,’ she said defensively. ‘Getting to know, and, yes, I called him.’

‘Good girl,’ said Marianne. ‘Here he comes now.’

‘Time to go,’ Serena told Chloe, wresting the half full cup of coffee from Chloe’s fingers and setting it on the counter. ‘Pete’s here.’ And to the older woman, ‘You have our numbers? You have Nico’s?’

‘You just get me your young man’s radio contact details and I’ll have them all,’ said Marianne and handed her a cake box. ‘For when you get hungry,’ she said. ‘For when you need hope.’

* * *

‘Have you found him?’ were Pete’s first words as he stepped out of the helicopter.

Serena shook her head.

‘I need to refuel,’ were his second. ‘We’ll be in the air in five minutes. Get in.’ He was all business, but he had a kiss for Chloe’s forehead as he saw her seated in the rear of the cockpit and a smile for Serena as he pointed her to the seat beside him in the front. ‘I’m glad you called,’ he said.

‘I’m glad you came.’

‘Who’s your ground-crew co-ordinator?’

‘Marianne Papadopoulos. She wants your contact details.’

‘She’ll get them. I’ve already spoken to Nico. He’s concentrating his search in the North Eastern corridor. We’ll broaden ours.’

He radioed Mrs P, gave Serena a map and told her to grid it up. He got them airborne, explained the search pattern they’d use and told them how best to scour the sea below them without courting excess eyestrain and fatigue. He kept positive, kept Chloe calm, kept them looking. With cool deliberation Pete Bennett, air-sea rescue helicopter pilot, took charge.

Serena had never seen anything more beautiful in her entire life.

They searched for what felt like for ever, until the little helicopter needed to refuel. He sent them to the bathroom when they landed, made them drink and eat cake while he arranged with Theo to find spotlights, searchlights he could attach to the helicopter when they refuelled next. If they didn’t find Sam soon, they’d be searching in the dark.

With just over two hours of daylight left he took them up again.

Serena shaded in more little boxes on the map on her knees and scoured the water below them for some sign of Nico’s catamaran, some sign of Sam. But they didn’t find either.

The wind blew stronger as the day wore on. Tiny whitecaps formed on top of the waves and the light started to fade, making searching for things like small boys alone in the water harder. Serena’s eyes felt dry and gritty but she didn’t stop looking. No one did.

It felt like hours later when Chloe spoke up. ‘There,’ she said, her voice thready with fatigue. ‘There’s something over there.’ There being over to the west, straight into the sun. The something that Chloe was referring to being a white speck that Serena had to strain to see.

‘I see it,’ said Pete, and something in his voice made Serena sit up straighter and catch her breath as they changed course, dipping lower as they sped towards that speck of white. He was on the radio to Nico, relaying coordinates, almost before Serena could make out the shape of a sail in the water and a small figure clinging to an overturned catamaran hull.

‘It’s him. We found him!’

Pete smiled grimly. ‘Yeah, but we still can’t get to him.’

‘He’s not moving,’ said Chloe, panic lacing her voice as she fumbled with her seat harness. ‘He’s hurt. His head’s all bloody!’

Pete brought the chopper in for a closer look, balancing their need to know more with Sam’s need to stay clinging to that hull. The noise should have roused the boy; the spray kicked up by the hovering helicopter should have done it … Not too close, not too close.

‘His hand moved,’ muttered Serena.

Not moved, thought Pete grimly. Slipped.

‘He’s letting go,’ said Chloe, wrenching a life-jacket from beneath her seat and opening the door.

‘What are you doing?’ Pete swivelled round in his seat to glare at her.

‘Chloe—’ began Serena, unbuckling her own seat belt.

Chloe ignored them both, tugging the inflator tag on the lifejacket and hurling it out and down. Pete watched the life-jacket settle on the water a good fifty metres away from the target.