Against the Tide Read Online Free Page A

reapply her make-up and fiddle with her hair.
    I returned a few minutes later, struggling to keep the grin off my face. ‘He’s already been collected I’m afraid. The hotel sent a car.’
    â€˜Damn!’ Caroline thumped the wooden steering wheel. ‘Get in. We’ll go and see him at the Palace, then.’
    â€˜But why? Why do you want to drag me up there?’
    She looked up at me, the bright spots on her high cheekbones shining through the rouge, crimson lips pouting in disdain. ‘Jack, you know you have to apologise to him. I saw you smiling as you got out of the water. You didn’t lose your temper. You planned that and you must make amends.’
    â€˜What?’ I kicked the tyre in disbelief. ‘You were the one who shouted out “Do it!” You wanted me to hit him.’
    â€˜Don’t be so bloody stupid. I most certainly did not. You must have imagined it. Perhaps it was someone else who called out. Rachel, perhaps?’ She looked witheringly at me. ‘You are so crass sometimes, I almost despair of you. I thought you sportsmen were supposed to be gentlemen. Now, are you coming with me or do I have to go and apologise for you?’
    My friends wondered why I put up with her. Perhaps they were right, but she was so different, exciting, unpredictable and challenging. Yet, she was surprisingly vulnerable. I never bragged about how far we went, in contrast to my friends who kept a score of their, often imaginary, successes. That was private, between the two of us, besides which, no one would have believed me.
    â€˜Dear Jack, you look like one of your precious cows waiting to be milked. Are you coming with me or are you walking home?’
    We glared at each other – my anger threatened to overwhelm what little sense remained. I looked away. There was an iron cannon in the park across the road. Perhaps I should go and kick that instead. It was probably more malleable than her self-belief. Sod it. Did I really want to end it here, now, over a bloody Dutchman? I turned back. She was still staring at me but her lips curled into a hint of a smile. Was it triumph or understanding? I was sure that, before the end of this crazy day, our relationship would be resolved, one way or another, but not here by the side of the dusty road. I clambered into the car and stared straight ahead.
    â€˜Oh for God’s sake, put your brave face on and stop sulking.’
    We found the Dutchman stretched out in a rattan chair near the eastern end of the sun terrace. He seemed to be asleep and bore few marks of my attack. Caroline coughed. Kohler’s eyelids fluttered but there was no other reaction. She nudged me with her elbow.
    I grimaced at her and croaked, ‘Excuse me.’
    The Dutchman slowly opened his eyes and, for a fleeting second, I saw confusion, bordering on panic, in their grey depths, then he was awake. His lips spread wide in a friendly grin and he raised his arms above his head.
    â€˜I surrender. Please, no more.’
    The voice was relaxed, only the slightest suggestion of an accent. He turned to Caroline and opened his eyes in a rather obvious gesture of appreciation. A cold wave of apprehension sucked at my insides.
    Caroline cued me. ‘We’ve come to apologise, Mr Kohler.’
    He looked surprised. ‘Rudi, call me Rudi. But there is no need.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘It is only a game. There is little damage.’ He pointed at his left eye. ‘A slight swelling and a cut inside my lip,’ he rubbed his jaw, ‘a little soreness –’
    Caroline interrupted. ‘But you were unconscious. We were all worried.’
    Kohler leapt up. ‘Look, no damage. Fit, as you English say, as a fiddle. I was only briefly stunned. The team needed a replacement so I stayed “injured”.’
    I knew I had knocked him out and that he must still be in some pain. If he wanted to pretend otherwise to impress