Paul Forkan - Tsunami Kids: Our Journey from Survival to Success

First published in Great Britain in 2014 by

Michael OMara Books Limited

9 Lion Yard

Tremadoc Road

London SW4 7NQ

Copyright Rob and Paul Forkan 2014

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN: 978-1-78243-357-6 in hardback print format

ISBN: 978-1-78243-359-0 in trade paperback format

ISBN: 978-1-78243-358-3 in ebook format

Cover design by Simon Levy

Designed and typeset by K Design, Winscombe, Somerset

www.mombooks.com

Dedicated to Mum and Dad and all those affected by the events of 26 December 2004

Contents

I FELT IT BEFORE it hit. The world shook in the seconds before it bore down on us with the full force of nature. It sucked the humid tropical air away, replacing it with a solid wall of angry water, thick with mud and debris. In an instant everything became noise, energy and panic.

It came surging through the front of the building in a roaring torrent, sweeping trees, buildings and vehicles away; swatting them like flies.

I heard the distant rumble first and saw fear on the faces of the few people dotted around the hotel complex before it reached us. Theyd seen it approach from the horizon. Instinct kicked in. A fight or flight adrenaline surge shocked me into action and I ran back into the room where my brother Paul was starting to rouse from sleep.

I screamed at him. Something was coming. The roar got louder. It crashed ashore with megaton energy. There was no chance to think. Reaction. Survival. We were just a few yards back from the beach and in its path. It would have hit the villa my parents and younger siblings were in first then, milliseconds later, it was upon us.

I spun round as the water engulfed our room, which was a flimsy house of cards against the deluge. It crashed against the front wall and was suddenly everywhere at once and rising in a torrent. The door was ripped from its hinges as it gushed in. The windows gave way immediately. Shards of glass flew towards us like bullets. I raised my arms to protect my face and felt a momentary burning pain across the underside of my upper arm.

The water was dark and brown. The noise was deafening. I shouted to Paul again. We needed to get out. The room was filling up with sea water; a briny coffin. I thought the island was sinking. Outside, the sea had replaced the land. It was the end of the world. I couldnt compute what was happening. All I could do was react. All around us the furniture was being picked up and smashed apart as if made of matchsticks. The sink was ripped off the wall and shattered into ceramic daggers.

I knew we both needed to stay on our feet or the current swirling around us would sweep us off our legs and wash us away. I felt debris smash against my shins. It took just seconds for the water to reach thigh height. It was rushing past the door, heading inland at what seemed like hundreds of miles an hour.

Get out! I yelled to Paul. He was on his feet, trying to walk towards me. I twisted round, grabbed his hand and pulled him towards me as I steadied myself against the battering currents. I took a shaky stride forward towards the doorway, straining against the force of the surge that was gushing through it. The water was now waist-high and continuing to rise. Outside I glimpsed branches, sunbeds and whole trees being carried past on the tide. The thunderous roar continued to fill my head.

I inched forward and managed to get out through the door. I grabbed the door frame and pulled myself out of the room. With the other hand I helped Paul step free of the building.

A brick wall ran across the veranda at the front of the villa and, using a pole that supported the roof, I pulled myself onto it and grabbed another pole that ran across the lip of the roof. I tried to pull Paul up next to me as the current attemped to drag him away.

I held onto Pauls hand with grim determination. The wall underneath me gave way beneath my feet, washed away as if it was made of sand. I hung there, suspended. One hand gripped the metal bar, the other gripped my brother. If I let go of Paul, he would be washed away to certain death. If I let go of the bar, wed both be killed.

All around us was chaos. The world was being washed away. Buildings were collapsing in on themselves, flimsy under the weight of the sea. Roofs were ripped off and crumbled to pieces, absorbed by the thick, chocolate-coloured water. Uprooted trees smashed into a soup of floating wreckage. Nearby power lines came down and hung menacingly in the water, sparking as they hit the flow.

To this day, I have no idea where the strength came from. I was a scrawny seventeen-year-old and Paul was only slightly smaller than me and two years younger. But, somehow, I managed to pull us both high enough out of the water for Paul to grab the bar too. Perhaps, in a bitter irony, the waters that were threatening to kill us both rose high enough to give us an extra bit of buoyancy.

We clung to the edge of the roof and pulled ourselves free of the rising wave.

Higher, I called to my brother and we both scrambled further up the roof as the lowest row of tiles was swept away. We climbed to the apex, the very highest point we could reach. We were both barefoot and the rough terracotta grated on the soles of our feet. We felt no pain. We were numb and breathless.

And then it started to wane. The torrent started to slow. It did not rise any higher and its destructive journey inland became gentler. Eddies swirled debris in lazy circles. In the distance I heard the clanging and scraping. The wave ebbed.

For the first time, I had a chance to look around properly. The world had ended. Everywhere was submerged. I couldnt see a soul. It was Boxing Day 2004. The previous night wed celebrated Christmas in the open-air restaurant. It had been strung with fairy lights and the waiters had worn Santa hats. Wed played games and surfed in the day. Now everything was destroyed.

And then I wondered where our parents were.

E VERY JOURNEY STARTS with a footstep; a single stride forward. Motion and direction. Our journey starts with Kevin Forkan, a man who always grabbed life with both hands and squeezed it until the pips fell out. Kevin was an adventurer, a visionary and a thoroughly decent bloke who lived by his wits and guile and always did what he believed was right. He travelled the world and along the way he got into a few scrapes. It built his character. In business he was fearless and forward-thinking. Kevin loved life, he loved people and he valued experience and family. Hed hitch-hiked across South Africa and lived in America and Australia before he settled down to run his own car showroom which was located in a place called Mitcham, the car-dealer capital of south London.

In the early eighties, when Kevin set up his showroom, Mitcham was full of men in sheepskin coats with questionable moral compasses, lured there by Mitcham Car Auctions, a sprawling conveyor belt where vehicles changed hands and the phrase sold as seen was used regularly as a form of magical incantation with the power to protect against grievances relating to mileage and MOT provenance. Kevin wasnt like his peers, however. In the world of car salesmen, he was an anomaly. He was a bit of a geezer but a decent bloke, and I never saw him wear a sheepskin coat.