Page 42 of Sun, Sea and Spotted Squid

“Yes, me too. You really fucked up the last half of my placement.”

The guilt lay written on his face. Sam was unrepentant. Let him feel it.

“Can we talk?”

Sam had no intention of listening to any more words from this man. No doubt ones designed to lead him straight to bed.

“I’m good, thanks. In fact, I’m going to the beach. I’ll get breakfast there.”

This time he did leave the kitchen. Not without Wolfgang in hot pursuit.

“Sam, please.”

Sam whirled around.

“You haven’t said a word to me for nearly a fortnight unless it’s about fucking squid. And now you want to talk? Or maybe you’re hoping for another fuck before you head home to the rock you crawled out from. Sorry, Wolfie. Nothing doing.”

He didn’t give him time to reply. The tears were coming thick and fast as he bounded down the stairs and out onto the street.

FIFTEEN

The sun sat high in the sky. Sam was surrounded by groups of teenagers and families. He revelled in the anonymity. He might be anywhere on the Mediterranean coast if he ignored the fact that the conservation area where they’d found a ton more squid over the course of the week lay off the coast directly ahead of him.

That day he wasn’t working at the aquarium. He was a tourist, enjoying the city like everyone else. And the lure of the sand had been calling him.

He closed his eyes and lay on his towel. Whilst he was looking forward to home, he would miss the heat on his body. Then a shadow crossed over him. There hadn’t been a cloud in the sky when he lay down so he opened his eyes to see a silhouetted figure above him.

“Room for one more?”

Sam held out his arms. “I don’t own the beach. See. There’s so much of it.”

Wolfgang plonked himself down next to Sam and rolled his towel out. He opened his bag and pulled some packages of food out of it.

Food I bought.

“I figured you might be hungry.”

Truth be told, Sam had been starving for half an hour. He hadn’t wanted to leave his stuff to get food.

“Thanks,” he said. “For bringing my things.”

“Wrong,” Wolfgang replied, holding up a churro. “Bought fresh from the bakery.”

He handed Sam a coffee cup.

“I even got you a flat white. Your favourite.”

“Wow. You’re pushing the boat out.”

He took his T-shirt off before taking a pastry for himself. Sam averted his gaze and focused on the sugary treat as he dipped it into his coffee.

“I owe you my life and so much more besides,” Wolfgang said.

“Now he remembers that. It didn’t mean all that much to you those nights you ignored me, did it?”

“I didn’t think you wanted me to speak to you.”

Sam had nothing to say. He had cried so many tears in the Formica prison cell Wolfgang had cast him into. What did he want from him now?