Tom leapt forward and put his arms around her waist, lifting her out of the water and holding her close as she clung to him.
‘You did it! That was brilliant!’ he said.
‘I thought I was going to drown!’ she gasped, laughing, the joy of her achievement shining in her eyes.
‘Come on, you’re nearly there. Try again. You push forward, and I’ll hold you up.’
Time and time again they tried, until Joy took her first tentative strokes alone while Tom hovered beside her.
As they walked back up the beach, exhausted, she slid her arm around his waist and said, ‘Thank you, Tom. Thank you so much. You were so patient. Do you know, I’ve lived my whole life beside the sea but I never thought I would ever be able to swim in it?’
He had held her to him and kissed her on the lips. Her lips were soft and tasted of salt. She seemed surprised and stiffened momentarily, drawing away, but then she yielded, pressing her body against his, returning the kiss with equal passion.
They lay down on the towels under the shade of the coconut palms and watched the sunlight play on the waves making the sea glitter and shimmer. Joy stretched out, luxuriating in the warmth, and again Tom admired the smooth lines of her slim body. He watched, fascinated, as droplets of water gathered and ran in rivulets down her thighs, leaving salty tide-marks on her skin. He noticed how the white sand sticking to her feet and calves contrasted with the smooth olive-brown of her skin.
‘This is absolute bliss,’ he said lying back and watching the bright blue sky through the moving fronds of the palm tree above. ‘I could live here forever.’
‘Don’t you want to go back to England?’ she asked.
‘No, never,’ he said. ‘I really don’t care if I never see the place again. There’s nothing there for me.’
He smiled and took her hand. ‘And there’s everything here for me.’
‘It means so much to me, being here with you,’ Joy said shyly.
Tom propped himself on his elbow and reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. ‘I just want it to go on forever, Joy. Just like this. Just the two of us.’
She turned to look into his eyes and smiled.
‘Me too, Tom.’
Later, as they packed their belongings into the car, he asked Joy if she would like to come back to his bungalow for tiffin. ‘You haven’t been there yet,’ he said. ‘I’d really love you to see it.’
She hesitated. ‘I’m not sure. Mother is expecting me back,’ and a troubled look crossed her face.
Perhaps it was too soon. He knew how strict and conventional her upbringing had been, how important religion and tradition were to her.
‘We could always drop in and let her know where we’re going,’ he said.
‘No. It’s probably alright. As long as I’m back by around eight o’clock, I’m sure she won’t mind.’
The sun was going down as they drove along the coast road and by the time they had turned inland towards the rubber plantations it was dark. Tom pressed the accelerator down, and the old Morris spluttered and surged forward. He wanted to reach the bungalow quickly so that they had some time there together before he had to take her home.
They entered the plantation and began to drive along the straight road, past the regimented lines of rubber trees. They passed the little settlement of wooden huts where the tappers lived with their families. They were outside, cooking over open stoves, by lamplight, or sitting on the front porches of their huts, smoking, enjoying the cool of the evening.
A hundred yards or so beyond the hamlet, a dark shape emerged suddenly from between the trees and hurtled straight into the car. Tom heard Joy scream, and he slammed his foot on the break. Although the car squealed to a halt in a cloud of dust, the front tyres slammed into the creature with a sickening crunch. It had all happened in a flash. They sat there for a moment in stunned silence. The smell of burning rubber from the tyres filled the car.
Tom’s mouth was dry with shock. He glanced at Joy and saw that she was sobbing quietly.
‘Are you alright?’ he asked. ‘Did you hit your head on the dashboard?’
She turned to him and nodded, tears glistening in her eyes. He reached out and felt her forehead. A lump was already forming above her eyebrows.
‘I’m so sorry, Joy,’ he said. He switched on the inside light and looked at her tear-stained face.
‘Don’t be sorry for me,’ she said. ‘What about that poor animal. What was it anyway?’
‘I don’t know. A dog, maybe?’
She began to open the passenger door. ‘Let’s go and find it. Do you have a torch?’
He fumbled in the glove compartment and found a small hand torch.
‘You stay here, Joy. It’s not safe. I’ll go.’
He got out, crossed the road and jumped over the storm drain that separated the plantation from the road and began to walk through the trees. He flashed the torch around. It felt desolate and lonely here between these lines of grey trees. But he didn’t have to go far. The shape was slumped under a tree. He shone the torch at it and realised that it was a dog, a feral one, yellow and mangy, lying there taking frantic shallow pants. These wild dogs usually hunted in packs, but this one was clearly sick and had been left to fend for itself. It was pitifully thin. Its chest and one leg were crushed and bloody. Ribs poked through the fur.
He knelt down beside the animal and then heard footsteps in the leaves beside him.
‘Is it alright?’ came Joy’s voice.
‘No, I’m afraid it’s going to die.’
She dropped down next to him.
‘I can’t bear to see an animal
