No Escape: The most addictive, gripping thriller with a shocking twist. Lucy Clarke

was interrupted by a shout from Aaron. ‘Shell! Joseph!’

      They all turned. Aaron was standing at the helm wearing a sun-faded cap and polarized glasses. There was something authoritative about his stance, the widely planted feet, the single hand resting on the wheel, the lift of his chin. ‘Let’s get the sails up.’

      Joseph turned back to Lana and Kitty. ‘Time to see us at work.’

      *

      Sound filled Lana’s ears: the wild flapping of the sail as it was hoisted, the creak and strain of the sheets then the rush of wind as it filled the sail, making it snap out full and proud. The yacht heeled to the side and Lana gripped tightly to the wire lifeline that ran around the perimeter of the deck.

      A moment later the engine was cut and the noise of the motor slipped away so that all that remained was wind and waves. She craned her neck, mesmerized by the muscular curve of the sail as it stretched into a cloudless blue sky.

      Lana had never been on a boat – let alone a yacht like this – and she was awed by the sheer magnificence of being propelled through the sea by the power of wind. There was something so elemental, so stunningly powerful, about it. The wind toyed with the hem of her dress and mussed through her hair – and she breathed in deeply, filling her lungs with the warm salt air.

      She looked down the length of the yacht, taking in the weathered teak deck where swathes of rope were neatly coiled, and a paddleboard and two surfboards were lashed to the railings with bungee cords. She thought, This is another life – another world.

      Denny appeared from below deck wearing a faded grey trucker’s cap, his tight curls pinging out at the sides. His gaze found Lana and he smiled. ‘Joining us?’

      ‘Looks that way.’

      Kitty and Lana watched as the crew moved expertly around the yacht – an effortless dance in which everyone knew their role. Barefoot and tanned, they seemed like an exotic race of travellers blown in from a faraway shore.

      They’d been sailing for an hour when Denny pointed towards the front of the boat and said to Lana and Kitty, ‘You two should stand at the bow. We’ll be going close in.’

      They picked their way carefully forwards, the breeze gently buffeting them both. Kitty slipped an arm around Lana’s waist, leaning her head against her shoulder. They watched the coast reveal itself until they were sailing towards a towering rocky pinnacle where trees and bushes grew at odd angles from cracks in the limestone.

      ‘Isn’t this insane?’ Kitty said. ‘Can you believe we woke up on a fucking yacht?’

      ‘I know,’ Lana grinned. ‘Beats waking up on a bus.’ Last summer they’d gone to a gig in London, and afterwards Kitty had talked their way onto the tour bus. They’d woken eight hours later at Wolverhampton Services with atrocious hangovers and only £23 between them to get home.

      Beneath the sun, the sea glistened. Lana leant over, peering down at the shallowing water, which lightened to an aquamarine – coral wavering in and out of view as they glided forwards. ‘God, I’m so pleased we’re not in England.’

      Kitty glanced at her sideways. ‘You feeling okay about everything?’

      By everything, Lana knew that Kitty was referring to her father. ‘I am right now.’

      The nose of the yacht drew so close to the rocks that Kitty suddenly stretched her hands into the air as if she could touch them. The yacht hugged the cliff line, and then it edged around a craggy point.

      There, opening up before them, was an emerald-green lagoon framed by dramatic pinnacles rising out of the water. A serene white-sand beach curved between the pinnacles, backed by an impenetrable forest.

      Kitty turned to Lana, grinning. ‘I think we’ve just stumbled across paradise.’

      *

      They anchored in the lagoon, then all crammed into the dinghy to go on shore.

      When they stepped onto the beach, Lana dug her fingers through the sand, which was made of thousands of beautiful, tiny shells and fragments of white coral.

      Shell lay a blanket in the shade beneath a palm tree, and Lana and Kitty joined her. They were still in yesterday’s clothes and were thankful to have been wearing their bikinis beneath them. Kitty tugged off her shorts and edged into the sun, lying back using her arms as a pillow, her stomach stretching taut. Lana remained sitting, propping her elbows on her knees as she listened to Shell, who was telling them the story of The Blue as she plaited fine strands of leather into a bracelet.

      ‘The first I heard of it was from a group of travellers in Vietnam. There’d been rumours about this floating commune of sailors, wanderers and adventurers. They said that they’d seen the yacht travelling around, and the crew were stopping at remote bays, anchoring off empty shores, sleeping under the stars, surfing crowdless breaks, fishing for their meals. To me it sounded like heaven,’ she said, her facing blooming into a smile.

      ‘So I travelled from Vietnam, heading west for Thailand in search of The Blue. I’m not sure I truly believed that it existed – but miraculously, I found her. She was anchored in a quiet bay in the west of Ko Samui. The moment I saw her I knew I had to find a way to get on board.’

      Shell put down the leather she’d been plaiting and told them, ‘I swam out to the yacht and introduced myself to this guy sitting in the cockpit mending a sail – who happened to be Aaron. He was making a hash of the sail, so I showed him how to make a stronger pattern of stitches. My dad’s a sailor,’ she added, ‘so I’ve done my fair share of sail repairs. I spent the afternoon helping, and once the sail was fixed, I asked Aaron if I could join The Blue.

      ‘There weren’t any free berths at the time, but I said I was happy with the hammock. I spent the first three weeks sleeping beneath the stars, waking up covered in dew and mosquito bites – but I loved every moment. Then a Danish guy left and I took over his berth. That was fourteen months ago now.

      ‘Denny’s been here the longest: he joined Aaron in Australia. After him a couple of lovely Swiss girls joined. They left about three months ago.’ Shell confided, ‘I’m heartbroken. I was rather in love with one of them, Lea. Totally one-sided of course – she had a boyfriend back in Switzerland – but still, she was wonderful. There’ve been a few other crew – some stay for weeks, others for months. Heinrich’s been with us for almost six months now. He’s a good guy. Great to have around the boat. I swear he can fix anything – engine parts, cupboard doors, bilge pumps – you name it. Joseph is our newest crew member. He tends to keep himself to himself, but from what I can see, he loves being out here.’ Shell opened her hands and said, ‘So that’s all of us.’

      Lana glanced across at Kitty. They held each other’s eye, a current of excitement firing between them as they both understood: they had to find a way of becoming part of this.

      *

      Lana fell asleep in the shade. She was awoken some time later by a dig in the ribs from Kitty, who whispered, ‘Where is everyone?’

      Lana sat up, rubbing her eyes and squinting against the bright sun. Shell was gone from beside them and, as Lana took in the empty bay – the hard white of the coral sand, the clear blue water fringing the beach – she realized she couldn’t see any of the crew. The shoreline was empty. She and Kitty were on a deserted stretch of coastline, only accessible by boat.

      Just as the first sparks of fear were beginning to ignite, Kitty suddenly pointed towards the left-hand side of the cove. ‘The dinghy. It’s still there.’

      ‘Jesus,’ Lana said, placing a hand to her chest. ‘You almost gave me a heart attack – I thought they’d left us.’

      On the far side of the dinghy the crew were gathered in a circle, talking. Lana watched as each took turns to speak, their expressions serious. Denny sat with his arms folded over his lean chest, nodding. When Joseph was talking, Aaron turned to glance in Lana and