Never Ending by Martyn Bedford Read Free Book Online

Shiv is two years younger and, somehow, it doesn’t seem right. Instead, she just lets their elbows come into contact again.
    Hensher is moving among the group, collecting wrappers and empty bottles, when…
    Webb is the first to react. Then Hensher, scattering the litter everywhere.
    On the far side of the clearing, Mikey is standing at the base of a tree, repeatedly drawing his head back and smashing it against the trunk as hard as he can.

Kyritos
    By the third day, Dad was relaxed enough to sing as they drove away from the villa in the morning. For once, no one begged him to plug in the iPod instead. With the car windows open and the fragrance of spring flowers mingling with the chlorine-scent of their hair, damp from a pre-breakfast swim, the collective good mood washed over Shiv like a warm breeze.
    She inspected her forearms to see how her tan was progressing. “So what’s the story with these turtles?” she said.
    “I had a flyer here, somewhere,” Mum said.
    “I’ve got it.” Declan brandished the leaflet.
    The trip had been his idea. Each of them had proposed a what-I’d-like-to-do-tomorrow plan before all four options were put to a ballot. “A democratic process, here in the birthplace of democracy,” as Dad put it. And so there they were, heading for a half-day cruise with lunch, turtle-watching and snorkelling included.
    Declan read aloud: “ Why not let Poseidon Adventures take you on a—”
    “It is not called that,” Shiv said.
    He showed her the leaflet. Sure enough, Poseidon Adventures .
    Shiv laughed. “So, what, we get hit by a tidal wave and the boat capsizes—”
    “Ah, no,” Dad said. “That’s on the full -day cruise – we’re on the half -day.”
    “That was such a sad film,” Mum said. “The scene where she drowned – what was her name? You know, the big woman with the curly hair.”
    “Shelley Winters,” Dad said. Mum always forgot actors’ names and Dad always knew who she meant. “And she didn’t drown, she had a heart attack after swimming underwater for too long.”
    “Anyway,” Declan said, with a wave of the leaflet. He cleared his throat and resumed reading, adopting an actorly tone. “Why not let Poseidon Adventures take you on an unforgettable tour of the … blah-de-blah … oh, here we go: Our glass-bottomed boat permits you – permits you? – a close-up encounter with the famous turtles for which this island is re-known . That would be renowned, then.”
    “Can we have the un edited version?” Shiv said.
    Her brother looked at her over his sunglasses. “Shivoloppoulos, I am in the zone here.” Then, back to the leaflet: “These magical prehistoric creatures have frequent our shores since the dawn of time. They live for up to a thousand years and –”
    “Thousand years, my arse,” Dad snorted.
    “– and can grow as big as ten metres in diameter.”
    “ Ten – ”
    “If you are lucky,” Declan continued, “you might see one attack a dolphin foolish enough to stray into the turtle’s territory. When these marine beasts are evenly matched, the fights can last for hours, leaving the waters awash with blood, while local fishing crews gather to watch the spectacle and to place bets on the outcome.”
    “Read it properly,” Dad said, amused.
    They were winding their way down the precipitous clifftop route to a harbour a few kilometres along the coast from the villa. The sunlight made a golden haze of the dust the tyres kicked up from the roadside verge. Shiv tried not to look over the barrier at the sheer drop to the sea far below.
    “According to Greek mythology,” Declan went on, “the very first turtle was created by the great god Poseidon when he cast one of his sons adrift at sea, nailed hand and foot to an upturned shield, as a punishment for having sex with an otter.”
    “Oh, Declan, nooo ,” Mum said, trying not to laugh. “That’s disgusting.”
    At the wooden jetty, the boat was bobbing at its moorings and a line of