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Authors: Cathy Hopkins

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BOOK: This Way to Paradise
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I must have drifted off because I awoke with a jerk. I sat up, unsure how long I had been there but I felt cold. I rubbed my arms and was about to get up when I became aware that someone was nearby, coming towards me, but, as the light from the fire was behind them, I could only see a looming shadow. My heart thumped in my chest – I realised that I was probably a little too far away from the party if there was trouble.

‘Hey, India, that you?' asked a familiar voice.

‘Phew,' I said when I realised that it was Robin. ‘You scared me.'

He sat down with a heavy thump on to the sand just behind me. ‘Wu
hooooo,'
he said then laughed. ‘What you doing out here on your own?'

‘Oh nothing – just looking at the sea and the sky.'

Robin snuggled up so that he was right behind me. Then he put his legs around me so that I was seated between his thighs. He pulled me back to lean on his chest. He felt warm and smelled strongly of alcohol and garlic.

‘Looking at the sea and the sky and the stars,' he said in a dreamy voice. ‘You're a funny girl, aren't you, my little India Jane?'

And then he started kissing the side of my neck and nibbling my ear. I froze. I so didn't want it to be happening.

‘No. Robin, I . . .' I tried to move away but it was difficult as he had me firmly between his legs. He manoeuvred himself around to my left, pulled me back further and began to kiss me properly. It was horrible. Too wet. Too full on. As he kissed me and I tried to get away, his breathing grew heavier and he moved his hands up and began to caress my breasts.

I tried to push his hands off. ‘Robin,
no.
I don't want. . .'

‘Oh come on, India, you know I'm into you,' he groaned. Then he pushed me over so that I was on my back and he was lying on top of me.

‘Robin,
NO!'
I cried.

My protest was muffled by the bulk of his body pressing down on me. As I struggled, the sounds all around seemed to grow louder. Behind us, the party blasted on full swing; in front, the waves crashed up on to the beach. The crackle of the fire, the beat of the congas, the strumming guitars, the sound of chatter and laughter.
What am I going to do?
I asked myself as I tried once again to push Robin off and not to panic.

‘Where are you?' asked Aunt Sarah in a clipped voice at the other end of the phone.‘Is Kate with you?'

‘Yes, she's here. We're at Troulos beach.'

‘And Tom and what's his friend's name?'

‘Robin. Yes. They're here too.'

‘Put Kate on.'

‘I . . .'

I didn't know what to do. Kate was slumped by the fire, asleep and had been for over half an hour.‘She's . . . she's asleep.'

‘Asleep?' For a moment there was an ominous silence. ‘Is she drunk, India Jane?'

I so didn't want to be a snitch, but I couldn't think of how else we'd get home. It was one o'clock in the morning. I was pretty sure that, despite her promise to me, Kate hadn't phoned her mother and I knew that Aunt Sarah would be worried. Both Kate and Tom were well out of it and I knew that no way was he or Robin going to be able to drive us back, especially
on roads where there wasn't much lighting. I had no choice but to call Aunt Sarah.

‘She's . . . I think she's just tired.'

‘Keep your phone switched on and I'll be there as soon as I can.'

‘OK. Thanks. I will.'

I made my way back to the fire and sat down to wait. Over by the bar, I could see Robin with his arm around Andrea. They soon started snogging.
At least he wasn't forcing her,
I thought as I glanced away. I felt angry with him. And myself. It was all so stupid and I desperately wanted to get back up to the centre, get under my duvet and forget about the day. Kate was still snoring away at my side, but I was wide awake as I ran through the events of the last few hours in my head for the hundredth time. I'd sobered up fast when Robin had turned into Groper Boy. And I would have been OK if Joe Donahue hadn't come along and tried to do his knight-in-shining armour routine. OK, I was struggling, but I had just been about to try a technique that always worked on Lewis when he had me pinned down during play wrestling fights when we were younger. A swift knee in the groin. It worked every time. However, just as I applied said knee, Robin was suddenly hauled off me and I saw Joe standing there, hands on hips, like a superhero. Ironically, I recalled, he was still wearing his Superman T-shirt. ‘Everything all right, India?'

I blustered that I was fine, rolled over and got up swiftly.
Robin also got up, holding his crotch. He hobbled off, muttering something about me being stupid and immature. ‘You OK?' Joe asked.

‘Fine,' I said again. I felt irritated that he'd caught me being mauled by someone like Robin and so hoped that he hadn't thought that I was in any way complicit.‘He's not my boyfriend or anything.'

‘I gathered that,' said Joe. ‘In fact I thought you were in trouble.'

‘I can handle myself.'

‘Yeah? Didn't look like it,' said Joe. ‘I'd stay away from those guys if I were you. They're just out to party.'

Before I could stop myself, I blurted. ‘Like you care who I hang out with or what I do. And what are you doing down here? Scoring drugs? From what I've heard you like to party yourself.'

Joe looked taken aback at my outburst but he chose to ignore it. ‘Look. Why not come over closer to the light area where there are more people. It's dark here.'

‘I can look after myself,' I muttered.

‘I'm sure you can, but . . .'

‘I don't need you looking out for me. I've got three brothers – I don't need another one.' For a moment, at the thought of my brothers, who couldn't even be bothered to send me an e-mail, I felt overwhelmingly alone and that I might cry. I bit my lip instead and pushed the feeling away.

‘Whatever,' said Joe. ‘Just . . . there are some chancers at these kind of things sometimes. Guys on the look out for . . .' He hesitated for a moment as though searching for words.

‘For kids like me? Is that what you were going to say? Go on. Say it. I know you're thinking it. About how pathetic I am. I know that you think I'm a total idiot.'

‘I don't actually. I . . . No. I . . . Look, I'm heading back up to the centre. You want a ride?'

I shook my head. ‘We have a ride and I have to find Kate. I wouldn't leave without her.'

‘Kate can look after herself,' said Joe.

‘Maybe but
I
wouldn't leave her,' I said and I knew that I'd said it in a very clipped way as if I was blaming him for something.

Joe looked at me kindly, which made me feel like crying again. ‘Good for you, India Jane,' he said. ‘It's good to look out for each other.'

I pushed past him and walked towards the fire and it was there that I saw Kate and Tom lying on their backs, snoring away, oblivious to the world.
She clearly hadn't come looking for me,
I thought. I saw Joe check that I was with her then walk off towards the car park.

We should have gone with him,
I thought, checking my watch and seeing with horror that it was one in the morning. That's when I called Aunt Sarah. She arrived about twenty-five minutes later and I felt so relieved to see her, even though she
was livid. She gave Tom off a real telling-off; then between us, we helped Kate to the car. Kate didn't seemed phased at all. She was well out of her head.

‘Mommie dearest,' she slurred. ‘Arr. Come to the party. Hurray. Nice to have Mommie dearest here.'

This was a sentiment clearly not shared with Mommie dearest who packed us into the car like naughty five-year-olds and drove us back up the lanes in silence, and I wondered if she was still thinking that Tom Stourton was such a good influence.

Chapter 11
Grounded

I woke at nine-thirty with a cracking headache. It felt as if someone was probing the inside of my brain with ice cold fingers. Horrible. I found a couple of aspirin in Kate's toilet bag and went up to the dining area to get some coffee. I hoped that I might escape Aunt Sarah, but no such luck. She'd been up for hours and was feeling more vocal than last night.

‘I would have thought
you'd
have had more sense!' she started when I sat down at her table with my cup of coffee.

She hadn't cooled off over night. Not one bit. She was still mad with me. Still mad with us. Kate was sleeping it off, oblivious to all of it – to what had happened at the party with Robin and to how we got back to the centre.

So I got the full force of the wrath of Aunt Sarah.
Sounds like
a movie title,
I thought as she blasted away at me.
The Wrath of Aunt Sarah – a movie coming your way soon.

She had a list of things to be furious about.

Furious because we were late and had missed supper with her.

Furious because Kate had turned her mobile off.

Furious because neither of us had called.

Furious because ‘anything could have happened to us'. (And
almost did,
I thought.)

But most furious because Kate was falling-over drunk and stank of cigarettes. She was so drunk that she'd even offered her mother one before she passed out. I'd never seen Aunt Sarah that mad. It was scary.

And the thing was, I kind of understood. She didn't know where we were. Of course she'd been worried.

‘I'm sorry, Aunt Sarah,' I said and I meant it. I felt bad. Bad for her. Bad for Kate. And bad for me.

‘I should think that you are, but it's a bit late for apologies, isn't it? What if something had happened to you? Your mother would have killed me. You're in my care while you're here or have you forgotten? I spoke to Fleur and your dad first thing and they'll be calling later. Needless to say, neither of them were very happy to hear about your behaviour and the fact that you'd been drinking too. Don't think you can act the innocent party.'

‘That is
so
unfair,' I blurted. ‘Why did you have to tell them? For one thing, I didn't even do anything and, for another, I didn't ask to be sent here.'

Aunt Sarah gave me a cool glare and then, suddenly, she looked like a balloon that had been deflated. All the fury went out of her to be replaced with a look of utter weariness.

‘You're grounded for the next few days,' she said. ‘Both of you. I'm not having either of you going off on your own until you learn to be responsible. You can stay here. At the centre where I can keep an eye on you.'

After the lecture, I grabbed some fruit and escaped up to the cyber office to check my e-mails. There was already one from Mum.

India Jane (not even a dear India Jane, I noted.)
Sarah let us know about last night. What were you thinking of?
Just remember that you're a guest there and . . .

Blah blah blah, like you even care. You're more bothered that Aunt Sarah was upset than by what happened to me,
I thought as I scanned the rest of the message to see if Dad had written anything. He hadn't.
Hasn't even got time to be mad with me,
I thought as I pressed delete.

There were two messages from Erin. Just nice, normal mad stuff about spotting Scott Malone outside the chippie on her way home from her supermarket job and there being nothing on telly. (I missed her so much.)

None from the rest of my family. Not even a health warning from Dylan about the dangers of binge drinking.

More and more people were emerging from their bungalows and the centre was starting to buzz with the energy of a new day. As I came down the steps away from reception, I didn't feel like engaging with anyone after my grand telling-off from Aunt Sarah. Not Kate. And especially not Joe. Too late! I rounded a corner and walked smack into him.

‘You made it back I see,' he said.

‘Yeah. So? Why wouldn't I?' I said, then cursed myself when he looked taken aback by my tone.

‘Yes. Why wouldn't you? No. I mean . . . I know, just . . . oh never mind,' he blustered.

Say something funny,
said a voice in my head.
Say something funny.
What came out was: ‘Yes and I've just had breakfast. Surprisingly I can feed myself too.'

Nooooooooooooooo. Idiot,
said the voice in my head.
Now, zip it, India. Be quiet. Shut up. Shut up. Oh God,
I thought, seeing a wall go up in Joe's eyes.
He thinks I am a stroppy cow. He's right. I am. But I'm so not. Not really. No. The real me is still in here somewhere, I wanted to say. You'd like her. She's nice.
But, of course, nothing came out.

The conversation had gone all wrong. I had no idea why I was so hostile to him, especially when he had only tried to help last night and he wasn't the one who had tried to maul me.
I must be nicer,
I thought, and tried to think of something friendly to say.

‘Er . . . I noticed you had a Superman T-shirt on yesterday,' I started.

BOOK: This Way to Paradise
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