Her attention was captured by clusters of people dashing towards the distant part of the shore. It could have been a drowning. The scene was buzzing with confusion. Maddie and Jack emerged from the sea and started strolling, then quickened their pace on the moist beach sand. The unfolding situation caused every event of their holiday to diminish and seem almost surreal in Maddie’s perspective, as if plucked from an animated show.
The Toporovs were expected to reach by half past eight. Jack and Maddie lounged lazily on the terrace in rattan sunbeds. Maddie glanced at the time on her mobile. Although it was already a quarter to nine, she rationalised that this delay was a part of the holiday experience. The Toporovs might have been held up. Vadim seemed glued to his phone when they were at the beach earlier. Alternatively, they could have taken a siesta in the apartment’s refreshing comfort, similar to what she and Jack often did in the afternoons. That unique, unhurried intimate moment, might have been stretched a tad longer, still precious nonetheless.
Maddie glanced at Jack, who had just grabbed a gin and tonic, threw in a few ice cubes and was comfortably leaning back. His skin glistened with a golden hue after soaking up almost a fortnight of sun. She relished in the peaceful, rejuvenated sensation that typically followed their afternoon siesta, filling her entire body with calm.
Jack was a rare find, an employed actor who had recently wrapped up a half-year performance at Broadway, portraying Lear’s Fool in a modern adaptation of the play. An esteemed critic from New Village Icon had praised his performance. The stark differences in their professional lives fascinated her. Her role as a theatre nurse in a bustling metropolitan hospital often stretched her to her limits, something Jack could hardly fathom, despite his empathetic nature.
Their vacation was long overdue, indeed. However, Maddie’s immediate concern was about their delayed guests, the Toporovs.
‘Almost nine,’ Jack muttered, squinting at the descending sun.
As if answering to his remark, a loud buzzing echoed from the hallway.
‘I’ll answer it,’ volunteered Maddie, placing her feet down from the small footstool where they were resting.
With her bare feet touching the cool, glossed marble floor beneath her, she moved meticulously through her living room, filled with a copious amount of green plants. She walked down the hallway to greet her guests at the door. The room filled up with a burst of cheerful hellos as the four individuals embraced each other. Jack and Vadim exchanged firm handshakes and patted each other’s back jovially, whilst Maddie and Asya performed their customary cheek kisses.
“Please, come in,” Jack invited, welcoming their guests into their home.
Vadim was joking around to lighten up the mood, “Nice crib,” he laughed “though not quite as glamorous as ours!” They all laughed along with him. Their expressions were filled with genial humour. Their home was a replica of the apartment that Toporovs owned, with the only difference being their house was three storeys higher up with an unobstructed view of the ocean and without the general city noise. In contrast, the Davins had to put up with a partial view of the sea and a perspective on the developing part of the town, which was still under construction. Their home was high enough to avoid most of the nocturnal noise emanating from the bustling streets. Occasionally, they regretted not paying a little extra for the absolute tranquillity though.
Maddie led the Toporovs to the terrace. They poured drinks, the sound of clinking ice cubes echoed in the air, and the couples toasted to each other’s wellbeing in their native tongues – Zazdarovje, Cheers, along with an Irish toast from Jack, Sláinte.
The four of them had their first encounter on the beach. The Russians decided to soak up the sun, basking throughout the midday. Meanwhile, Jack and Maddie opted for the cool shade where they were deeply engrossed in their books, their bodies covered in Australian desert factor 60 sunscreen. They noticed the man next to them appeared to be involved in a somewhat heated phone conversation, which Maddie tried to comprehend, wishing she could understand Russian. She noticed him dismissing two African men who were trying to sell shawls and dresses. The men proceeded, their flip-flops burying in the warm sand. Maddie appreciated the Russian’s approach in dismissing them, as she felt uncomfortable if they had approached his almost naked partner.
The agitated Russian continued his conversation in an authoritative tone. Maddie noted his right hand gesture sharply in the air to emphasize his statements. Amid the mayhem, his mobile phone slipped from his grip. Maddie instantly reached out to catch it, saving it from the sandy landing.
“Outstanding reflexes,” he praised in his coarse voice, ‘Do you play sports? Your reflexes are quite impressive.’
Maddie replied with a simple “No.”
Ice finally shattered between them, as introductions were made; the couple’s names were Asya and Vadim. Conversations shortly followed; topics such as their homelands, Dublin and Moscow, and the length of their stay were discussed. Like them, they also resided in the luxurious five-star Sol Dorado hotel, known for its grand golden sun structure affixed to the hotel facade.
‘Most likely it’s visible even from the moon, akin to the Great Wall of China,’ mused Jack.
Asya and Vadim found this musing to be quite amusing. The interaction wasn’t the typical detached yet polite holiday air. Asya, thin and striking, piqued a discreet yet admiring look from Maddie. She wore a metallic, barely-there bikini, revealing the glow of her tanned skin. Casually topless, her dark nipples shone under the sun-kissed glow, oiled, as she gestured while conversing. Maddie, now in her forties, had recently begun to feel uncomfortable going topless and preferred to wear a single-piece. The prospect of African vendors approaching her when she was fairly exposed made her uncomfortable, not out of any sense of modesty, but based on her perception that they might perceive her as disreputable.
While Vadim engaged in a conversation with Jack, she couldn’t help but notice that Vadim was significantly older than Asya, with an athletic physique and a face that was lined, but somehow made him more appealing.
Asya revealed she did not work outside their Moscow apartment in a conversation with Maddie. She admitted to being overwhelmed by the bustling life in Moscow, she blamed it on the pervasive greed and asperity, rendering her decision to become a stay-at-home worker. There was silence amongst them for a while; Asya went back to reading her book, Vadim kept his attention glued to his phone, while Jack reclined for a snooze, leaving Maddie to continue her discreet appraisal of the other couple.
Finally, breaking the quiet, Jack nudged Vadim, ‘Planning on getting more sun?’
‘After the harsh Russian winter? Absolutely!’ replied Vadim. While stretching his legs, he repositioned himself to optimise the sunbathing. He grumbled and then readjusted himself in his swimwear.
‘Would you fancy a catch-up later?’
At this, Maddie brightened up, ‘Perhaps for a drink?’
In a languid tone, Asya suggested, ‘Food, beverage, whatever you fancy.’
Upon invitation from Jack, he said, ‘Why not join us at our place for a drink before proceedings?’
Now located on the patio, the four effortlessly stirred up lively chatter. Maddie found herself contemplating when on their travels had they ever encountered people who genuinely enjoyed their company.
Asya possessed a linguistic ability that spanned English, Swedish, and Icelandic. Previously she had occupied a translator role, but had left that career to craft her novel.
Ever supportive, Jack gave his affirmation with a nod. ‘Finally have the time to pen it down?’
Asya responded with a bright, titanium-white smile. ‘Indeed, all thanks to my dear Vadim who supports my endeavour.’
Her slow, steady blink beneath thick eyelashes returned Vadim’s unreadable expressions as he sipped his whisky. Maddie could not decipher whether it was longing, acquiescence, or affection.
Hoping to understand more, she asked, ‘What keeps you occupied, Vadim?’ as till now he had not made it clear.
Her enquiry was met with the sharp gaze of his pale grey eyes. She mentally recoiled, admonishing herself not to let her eyes wander towards his crotch. Despite her internal warnings, she was taken in by his thin, pale linen trousers that seemed to suggest the absence of underwear. However, a quick downward flicker of her eyes, caught sight of a dark bulge, only to quickly return her gaze back upward. Much to her dismay, he noticed. Damn it.
With a smile, he said, ‘I distribute exports worldwide. Mostly chemicals.’
As Maddie’s puzzled face reflected her curiosity, he further explained, ‘Primarily potash and phosphorous.’ He offered a secondary smile. ‘It may not be as precious as diamonds, but we are the global runner-up in producing potash.’
The startling revelation left Jack and Maddie speechless, although they responded enthusiastically to Vadim’s success. He proceeded to detail the vast sums in Euros worth of fertiliser transported from Russia to Ireland each year.
‘Wow, genuinely surprised. That’s fascinating,’ Maddie commented.
‘Quite a significant business for your people,’ Vadim countered, implying the Irish economy’s reliance on his potash.
‘Quite the contrast to the Bard,’ Jack noted, sounding a bit tactless.
Vadim continued, “So, while you’re taking on the Fool’s role in the Big Apple, ponder on why your homeland is so lushly green!” He chuckled heartily, “With Russian potash, it’s a rich green indeed!” Maddie was unsure if he was joking. She wondered how much he valued Jack’s part as the Fool in King Lear, which she believed was key to the performance. She wished he’d been a bit more impressed.
They took their leave from the flat after sixty minutes, making their way to the bustling strip of eateries. Boats lay anchored in the dock, glimmering lights adorned the faux cobblestone, and the irresistible scent of garlic and searing meat guided them. As they meandered, Asya asked, “What would you like for dinner?” Jack responded, “We’re easily pleased. Anything really.”
Peddlers of women’s handbags zigzagged across the marina, readying to set up their stands under the old city wall’s shadow. Further down, African women wove coloured strands into the locks of young European girls. Maddie overheard parts of their dialogue, she commented to Vadim that she found their French easier to understand compared to the version spoken in France. “It’s the colonial French. Likely from The Gambia,” Vadim casually said, skillfully navigating the throng.
They finally settled on an Italian diner located at the steepest part of a narrow lane which also flaunted a charming sea view. When the waiter, already breaking a sweat, seated them at a table on the outer edge of the square of tables, Asya voiced her discomfort. Maddie, however, seemed unfazed by it. The artificial bloom of bougainvillea hedges kept them detached from the swarm of strolling people.
Flicking through the menu, Maddie had already decided on the gnocchi con Gorgonzola without even checking, and instead surveyed the wine list. A chap, with an enormous bag of purses and eyewear, stopped momentarily beside her, “Fancy a designer handbag, ma’am?” She made a quick glance and declined. He quickly moved on. Before long, a pair of younger men showed up, hawking perfumes and summer dresses. She turned them down, too, this time a bit more assertively.
Vadim, who was seated at the left of Maddie, shifted closer to her. “This entire continent is on parade here, Maddie. Africa is moving en masse, resembling a plague of locusts prepared to suck us northerners dry,” he told her. Maddie was slow to understand but her facial reaction said enough. With a snide smile, Vadim turned to Jack. “Are you guys what we call in English – liberals?”
“I suppose we are,” responded Jack, nonchalantly.
“Some Africans attempt to use Russia as a launchpad to reach Europe,” Asya revealed. “But the Russian people aren’t very receptive.”
“Are you referring to the Africans, or the liberals?” Jack softly retorted, his sarcasm deftly concealed.
“Clever joke!” Vadim laughed heartily as he turned to Jack and playfully slapped him on the shoulder. Asya did not reciprocate with laughter and Maddie chose to remain silent. She had read a study on African immigrants in Russia under Putin’s regime.
“Anyhow,” Jack diverted the conversation with a wafting hand gesture. “We’re here to have a good time.” Vadim nodded in agreement, “We don’t have to deal with such unsavoury matters.”
Underneath the table, Maddie comfortingly caressed Jack’s leg. They exchanged gazes and Maddie winked at him before leaning back to listen. Every now and then, Asya pulled out her phone and captured their moments. Sitting on the same side of the table as Jack, she moved closer to him.
“Grin, Jack, you’re being filmed,” she whispered. With an arm hanging over Jack’s shoulder and the other perfectly holding the phone, she clicked a picture and reviewed it before snapping another. Now her head was slightly nearer to Jack’s.
“I’ll share these with you once I get your contact,” Asya promised. “To remember this evening.”
Then, it was Vadim’s turn to take a selfie, draping an arm over Maddie.
“You’re not grinning, Maddie,” he whispered into her ear, “you need to flash a real smile,” as he patiently held his phone waiting for Maddie to give a convincing smile.
A meal complete with food and wine was served, and upon tasting a few bites, everyone concurred the food was delectable. The wine, Maddie found, was even more superb, leading her to savor her second glass. Vadim, meanwhile, had requested for another round of Bartolo Mascerello.
All of a sudden, Vadim’s phone played a few lines of Kalinka. Upon seeing the caller, his brow furrowed in annoyance, he picked it up. After a short conversation, he ended the call, biting into a forkful of tagliatelle. By this point, Jack, Asya, and Maddie were engrossed in a conversation about films they’d watched or enjoyed. According to Asya and Jack, Lars von Triers’ ‘Melancholia’ was a cinematic representation of melancholy, rather than a tale about an earth-shattering comet. They both adored the film, as well as ‘Antichrist’, which Maddie found nauseating and excessive.
Vadim interrupted the chatter with a hint of brusqueness. “Who is the subject of your conversation?”
“Don’t fret, my love, you wouldn’t recognise the name,” Asya responded.
“An individual hailed as a genius by you scholars?”
“Yes, believe him to be one, at any rate, Jack and I do,” Asya confirmed, simultaneously reaching over the table to gently stroke Vadim’s arm. As her fingers traced the dark hair lining his arm, she seemed to be appeasing Vadim, much like pacifying a dormant volcano. Asya wondered how much Asya had to give in order to write her novel in a luxurious Moscow flat.
They indulged in more wine before Vadim addressed Maddie. “Would you be able to rescue me if I were admitted to your theatre following my inaugural cardiac episode?”
Asya was interested in hearing about Maddie’s surgical exploits and questioned what it felt like to be surrounded by human anatomy so intimately. How did she feel about blood?
Maddie confessed, “I’ve never been perturbed by blood, it’s primarily water after all.”
Asya continued prodding, “But your work exposes you to the ruinous state of our bodies daily, does it not?”
Maddie acknowledged it was demanding but by the same token, every life she extended was a triumph.
“So when are you returning to Ireland?” Asya eventually queried.
“We’ll leave on Friday, in three days,” revealed Jack.
With astonishment reflected in her stare, she intently examined Vadim.
‘Could it be possible…I am starting to speculate –’ Vadim suddenly appeared unsure of himself for the first time.
‘I believe this could be fortuitous,’ Asya expressed cheerfully.
Vadim proceeded to describe the situation, leaning in intimately. He had an Irish acquaintance, a scientist specialising in agriculture, who had expressed interest in procuring a small quantity of a new product based on potash from Russia. Conveniently, Vadim transported this product to the island with him. ‘Merely a quarter of a kilogram,’ he clarified rationally. The item was minuscule, packed in a padded envelope. Their departure was so hasty that he’d been unable to make arrangements for delivery service.
‘I planned to mail it on my own tomorrow.’
Maddie and Jack remained quiet as Asya observed them closely.
‘Before delving deeper, I assure you that I’m not a crazed Russian narcotics merchant trying to rope my friends into muling duties,’ he chuckled.
Maddie had to stifle an unexpected laugh.
‘You see it exactly as you think, right?’ he questioned, chastising her with a finger wag like a misbehaving child.
The situation left her feeling both humiliated and irritated.
‘Would you be troubled if I requested you to carry this small packet in your luggage?’ Vadim asked hopefully, clasping his hands together as though in prayer. ‘I will provide you with all contact information for my associate, phone number, email, and so on,’ he said, as if showing his full hand.
Jack seemed conflicted, thus Maddie spoke up, fearing Jack’s over-accommodating personality might take control.
‘I suggest you stick to your initial plan, Vadim.’
‘Delivering through a courier is difficult to arrange with little notice,’ Asya responded, displaying her disappointment.
Maddie remained silent.
Vadim understood and explained, ‘My associate could greet you at the airport, therefore there would be zero complications, my friends, zero complications!’
Jack, unsteady on his feet, put his arm on Vadim’s shoulder, finishing his wine in the process. ‘I want to explain something, Vadim. You’re fantastic people – no doubt about it. However, we don’t really know you that well.’
The Russian blurted out, seemingly mildly offended. In response, Asya bolted upright, extending her long neck much like an indignant hen, the ridge of her brows elevated lightly. ‘Of course not, we aren’t exactly close with you, but we’re global denizens, worldly folks accustomed to social norms. We – I presumed…’
‘As Jack has pointed out earlier, we hardly know you,’ Maddie cut in.
This ceased their conversation abruptly. Attempting to dissolve the awkwardness, Jack signalled a server and was about to order an after-dinner drink, but Vadim prevented him from doing so. He was not pleased.
‘No, dear friend, it’s past the hour. Asya and I will be retiring to our flat. More drinks – and you understand the outcome. We aren’t like the Irish, we lack their, um… endurance, shall we put it that way?’
Asya leaned across and suggested to Maddie they should link up via Facebook.
‘I don’t use Facebook,’ Maddie responded in a tone so terse it suggested that she had no plans to be friends with Asya, even if she was on the platform.
‘I do,’ Jack chimed in, but he was just having fun. Maddie darted him a glance. ‘See you on the beach, then,’ he added awkwardly.
She was consciously involved in an insincere embrace as Vadim and Asya rose to leave. Salutations accompanied by air kisses, pats on the back, and expressions of gratitude. Vadim left fifty Euros on the table, their contribution to the meal’s expenses. Jack and Maddie waved them off before looking at each other.
‘So, my mate,’ Maddie imitated Vadim’s thick r’s.
‘That was close, partner.’ Jack retorted.
‘They must’ve assumed we’re complete greenhorns,’ she said.
‘Which indeed, we are. Top tier fools,’ he admitted.
‘Bloody liberals,’ Maddie continued.
‘The Potassium gangsters,’ Jack supplied.
And then they were laughing manically into their glasses of Cointreau.
Local vendors ambled along the path. An elderly African halted to shuffle the bundles he was carrying. On an impulse, she beckoned him. He opened one of his smaller bags filled with counterfeit designer sunglasses. After giving them a look, she ended up purchasing three pairs.
The following day was spent basking in the sun, intermittently interrupted by trips to the beach bar for ice-creams. As the vacation drew to a close, they indulged in a few hours under the open sky, applying SPF 30 sunscreen to each other’s backs and legs.
“The good life,” Jack stated in a soft murmur. The afternoon was slowly fading away, taking the harsh heat of the sun with it.
“Fancy a dip?” he proposed shortly after.
She rose to her feet. Each day, at the same time, the waves of the Atlantic would still on this section of the coast. A gentle swell would lap softly against the shoreline, resembling a leisurely exhale. They would swim to the deeper parts, then float there, observing the bustling activity on the beach; clusters of sun-lovers, children splashing about, elderly women taking leisurely strolls.
Maddie lingered in the shallow waters. This moment was the epitome of perfection, it announced itself subtly, like a morsel of sweet consciousness that entered her, and gave her an undercurrent of heavenly delight.
But just as swiftly as it arrived, it disappeared. Her attention was abruptly diverted by the sight of running figures, raised voices, and unnerving cries.
In the waters farther down the beach, people emerged like spectral creatures from a crumbling vessel that appeared to be half-raft, half-boat. A couple of women, burdened with infants, struggled through the shallows, their clothing in tatters, while they hoisted their little ones out of the water. Most of them, however, were younger men, their eyes portraying an emptiness borne from dehydration. Maddie rushed towards a man who collapsed, unable to go any further.
“Where are you from? Where are you from?” someone was eagerly questioning.
“We come from Mali,” came the hushed response.
Without hesitation, Maddie approached one of the women and took her baby as the woman sank gently onto the sand. The baby’s body was warm but its brown eyes were slowly becoming cloudy. Using her professional instincts, she pushed her emotions aside while a horrified silence engulfed the beach, punctuated only by the rhythmic beat of music playing from the beach bar. The adults hastily gathered up the children with their snorkels and floats, directing them away from the water, as if a shark had been sighted.
While strangers attempted to assist by making calls and administering first aid, Maddie remained by the side of a woman who had just lost her infant. Her lips were grey and crusted with salt. Men, including Jack, pulled victims from the water and brought them to the shade of umbrellas. Bottles of water were distributed from the beach-side bar. Eventually, even the music fell silent, leaving only the sound of soft sobs and easy tide as a reminder of the situation.
Identifying Maddie’s medical training, the paramedics called upon her to help set up IV drips for the weaker victims. She did so reflexively, her mind too occupied for conscious thought.
That evening, Maddie accompanied Jack to the town square. They then turned into a side street where Jack insisted on eating a light fish dish and having a glass of dry wine, a remedy for the nausea she experienced after the day’s events. She had vomited in the beach facilities after the others were taken away, and then suffered diarrhoea triggered by a sense of revulsion, seemingly as much towards herself as to the scene.
Despite the day’s events, Maddie heard the buoyant chatter of people yearning for the sun and fair weather, an opportunity to get dressed up and feel unburdened at night. She noticed a familiar Irish-accented cheer of approval for something unbelievably good, followed by a heavier-voiced agreement. Asya and Vadim. Asya noticed Maddie and greeted her, indicating to Vadim to do the same, who responded with a smile that briefly turned to confusion upon seeing Maddie’s dishevelled state.
The image of the lifeless child and the tired mother had awoken a fierce desire in Maddie to conceive, even though neither she nor Jack had ever wanted children before. Perhaps this primal instinct to procreate was all they could do in face of such tragedy, she pondered, although it might be too late for them.
They sat down at a table, and a waiter promptly brought menus. Down the road, vendors hawked handbags from table to table.
Mary O’Donnell is an Irish wordsmith and poet.