A burning sensation was spreading across her foot. Bella sucked in a deep breath. She could handle this. It was just pain. Her heart rate had increased but not dangerously so. Healthy people didn’t die from scorpion stings. This didn’t mean hospital. It was going to be okay. There was nothing to show for the searing pain except an insultingly small pink mark between her toes.
Eleanor and Ana burst from their room, dressed for town. ‘Jesus, are you okay?’ Ana asked, clocking the scorpion. ‘What can we do?’
‘I need to wash the sting,’ Bella said.
Lexi helped Bella hobble to the sofa, while Ana filled a bowl with water and Eleanor fetched a towel.
‘How’s the pain?’ Lexi asked, face creased in concern.
Bella brought her foot into her lap to examine it. Now the redness was beginning to bloom outwards. She’d stepped on a weaver fish as a child and this was a similar pain: she wasn’t dying, but damn it hurt.
‘I’ll be fine,’ she told Lexi through gritted teeth. She was the girl who, when she went over the handlebars of her cherry-red BMX and needed four stitches in her chin, did not cry. She broke her wrist in two places falling from a trampoline and did not cry. Bella Rossi was the younger sister to three brothers. She did not fucking cry.
Ana delivered the bowl of soapy water and, always the nurse, Bella washed her own foot. Oh God, her toes were already beginning to get all puffy and red, and her espadrilles were new and now she wouldn’t be able to squeeze her fat fucking foot into them.
See. She wasn’t dying. She was worrying about shoes.
‘What about some ice on it?’ Ana asked.
‘Wrap a bunch in a tea towel. Cold compress.’
Eleanor had caught the scorpion in a glass. She stared at it, head angled, the glass distorting her face so her eyes appeared magnified and strange.
‘Go drown that damn thing!’ Bella said. ‘But first take a photo.’
‘I don’t think this is an Instagram moment,’ Lexi said.
‘For identification. In case I go into shock and the hospital needs to see what stung me.’
‘What’s stung you?’ Fen said, breathless, as she rushed through the villa door, Robyn behind her. She shrugged off her backpack and crouched at Bella’s side. ‘Y’okay? What happened?’
‘Run-in with a scorpion. I’m fine.’
Fen hugged her. Her skin smelt of sunscreen and salt, and suddenly Bella didn’t want to let go and wondered if, oh dear, she might cry after all.
‘Here you go,’ Ana said, delivering the ice wrapped in a tea towel.
Fen stepped back while the cold compress was applied by Ana, who was measured and steady. Bella thought, Yep, she’d make a good nurse. She often pictured people in a hospital setting, imagining what role they’d be best suited to. Lexi, for example, would be on reception. Customer-facing, good at chatting with everyone, slow to rile. Ana would be in triage. Unflappable, not easily fazed, as comfortable helping a drunk to his feet as she’d be dealing with a head injury. Robyn, she thought, glancing her way, well, she’d be a bloody surgeon, wouldn’t she? Confident and boring and nerdy, but exactly the person you wanted to cut through your ribcage if push came to shove. She watched Eleanor taking a photo of the scorpion. Mortuary. Definitely mortuary. And Fen? Well, that was obvious. Gynaecologist – and not just for the fantastic examinations, but because you could talk to her. You could be open and tell her you were scared and she’d hold your hand and you’d believe everything would be okay.
Almost everything.
‘Anything you need, babe?’ Lexi asked.
‘Painkillers.’
‘Pills or alcoholic?’
‘A cocktail of both,’ Bella said, feeling like maybe it would be okay.
Lexi made her a strong rum and Coke, with a couple of paracetamol on the side.
Outside there was the sound of tyres on gravel. Eleanor moved to the doorway. ‘Taxi’s here for the Old Town.’
‘We can’t go now,’ Lexi said.
‘Course you can,’ Bella insisted.
‘I’m staying here with you,’ Lexi said. ‘But Eleanor and Ana – you should both go.’
Bella leaned forward and took the cold compress from Ana’s hand. ‘Really. Go. I’m fine here.’
‘If you’re sure,’ Ana said. To the others, she asked, ‘There’s an extra space if anyone else wants to ride?’
Robyn was unlacing her hiking boots by the door. She looked flushed and fresh-faced from the walk. How long had they been gone, anyway? It was past lunchtime now. Hours, she decided. They’d been gone for hours. ‘Take Robyn with you.’