Page 29 of The Next Chapter

‘Right.’ Lola claps her hands together and we all turn to look at her. ‘I think that’s probably everyone.’

I wonder if I’m the only person imagining a slow and watery death for us all. Those kayaks look very flimsy and if the Titanic sank, what chance do they have?

Lola asks whether it’s anyone’s first time in a kayak. I raise my hand like I’m seven and shouting, ‘Miss, Miss, Miss,’ during carpet time. The boy stood next to Harper, I think she said his name was Blake, puts his hand up, too, while Harper lets out a particularly loud, ‘Oh my fucking god.’

‘I’m raring to go, though,’ I tell the assembled group. Because I cannot act like the catastrophe I am. That is group situations 101. You become the most amenable, least annoying version of yourself. You definitely don’t ask to see a risk assessment, which is what I’d like to do.

Lola doesn’t seem to mind, though, she just smiles really wide at Harper and says, ‘Not to worry, we’ll all be wearing a life jacket, and we’ll stay together. I thought we’d go around the perimeter of the loch, and I’ll point out some local landmarks as we go, if y’all like. Noah’s here to help, too. The hotel is his second home.’

Course it bloody is.

Noah shuffles from foot to foot, looking like he’d really rather not have people come and talk to him.

Once again, I am struck by how obvious it is that this is the Lola Starr. Her accent is soft, but it’s still there. All lazy vowels and rhythmic lilt. I look around, sure that at any second now, someone is going to point a finger and cry, ‘You must be that singer who disappeared thirty years ago! I’d recognize you anywhere!’

But that doesn’t happen. Instead, people are just wandering, casual as you like, over to the pile of life jackets behind Lola and picking one out.

‘When have you been on a kayak before?’ I whisper to Seb, because this sounds like the sort of question that a sister wouldn’t have to ask.

‘I told you I was in the Scouts.’ I swallow. I’d been relying on the fact that Seb might be the only person less adept at kayaking than me to distract from how bad I’m going to be. I can’t grill him about it, though, because I need to make sure I get myself a top-notch life jacket.

It’s morning, but the day is already starting to heat up. Everything looks hazy and I watch Noah as he chats to Lola, wondering what their deal might be. They seem to know each other really well, but the report by the private investigators said that Lola never married and doesn’t have any other children. I store the image of them laughing together away to analyse at a later point, preferably some place where I’m not having to face one of my biggest fears.

Harper catches me looking at Noah and Lola. She raises an eyebrow at me before returning to the life jackets. She’s mostly kicking through the pile, scattering them across the deck.

‘I’m not wearing one of them, they’re all wet.’

She’s right, the life jackets are all a bit damp. Hopefully, this doesn’t mean that the last lot of people Lola took out ended up in the water. Maybe Lola just gave them a quick hose down earlier. Hopefully, she takes better care of the life jackets than she does the rest of the place.

‘Harper.’ Her mum says it like a sigh, as if this isn’t the first time she’s had to say it. Harper rolls her eyes but does eventually clip a life jacket on.

I go to ask her if she wants to row next to me, but before I can say anything, Harper tells me, ‘She’s not my real mum, we’re just forced to live with them,’ and suddenly, I understand Harper’s anger. She’s not just an irritable teenager who hates the world. She’s in foster care.

It makes sense. Harper has jet-black hair and the couple look like they walked straight out of Sweden. Plus, the whole being angry at the whole world thing.

‘Okay, thanks for telling me that, Harper,’ I tell her, looking her in the eyes as I clip on my own life jacket and double, no, triple check that the straps are tight enough. ‘I was going to ask if you wanted to kayak next to each other, seeing as neither of us have done it before.’

She narrows her eyes at me. ‘Are you one of those paedos?’ she asks.

‘Harper!’

I can’t help the inappropriate and totally unattractive snort that I let out. ‘Nope, definitely not a paedophile.’ Of course, Noah chooses this moment to walk past us. I lean in to whisper, ‘I’m just terrified I’ll drown.’

That seems to get her attention.

‘You’re nervous?’ she asks.

‘Deathly. The bits of grass poking up through the water make me feel sick.’

I don’t know why I’m making so much of an effort with Harper. She’s so frosty she’d give an Arctic tundra a run for its money. Maybe there’s something about how obviously angry she is that appeals to me. Especially when I’m so good at burying my own anger. It’s refreshing, watching it seep out of her every pore.

‘Blake’s coming with us, too.’

‘Perfect.’ Seb appears at my shoulder, somehow managing to look stylish in the life jacket he’s clipped under his cape. ‘Hi, Blake.’

Blake ducks behind what I’m guessing is his foster dad before sticking his head back out and waving at Seb.

‘He doesn’t talk,’ Harper tells us.