Page 25 of The Island Girls

‘Good morning, Peggy.’ He beamed. ‘Miss Foster asked me to join you this morning so that Eileen could have the day off. Shesaid it would only be a small run today and we could manage between us,’ he offered.

Peggy was a little taken aback and realised that she’d entirely forgotten about the existence of Charlie since spending time with Darrell last night. But it was no problem. He’d already proved himself a fine boatman and all she was really focused on was ten o’clock and seeing Darrell.

Charlie impressed her with his skills again and managed to help with the mooring of the flying boat as well as bringing the launch alongside her and helping the passengers and crew off. They delivered them to Salterns Marina where a car to the hotel was waiting, and the crew took longer than Peggy liked chatting to Charlie about who he was and where he’d come from. She checked her watch repeatedly and was frustrated that they weren’t going to get back to Poole Quay in time.

‘Have you somewhere else to be, Peggy?’ asked Charlie with concern as they set off from the marina and back towards the quayside.

‘Yes, I’m meeting someone, and I don’t want to keep them waiting,’ Peggy replied.

‘He’s a lucky chap,’ said Charlie coyly. And for the first time, Peggy saw Charlie as a man. Not just a helping hand, or strong arms, or a good boatman, but a man. A man who had apparently noticed her. Embarrassed, though not unimpressed that two men – handsome ones – had now taken an interest in her, Peggy just shrugged and tried to shake off the compliment.

‘Tell you what, Peggy. If you’re in a hurry, you just go on up the steps when we pull in, and I’ll put the launch to bed. I’m quite capable, and I’m so grateful for the work. You go and meet your gentleman, and I’ll finish up,’ Charlie offered.

‘Oh, would you, Charlie? I’m not quite sure if Pat would approve, but she’s not there on a Saturday. Just nip into the harbour master’s office and drop the key in when she’s allsecure, would you? Thanks so much,’ gushed Peggy, thinking only of getting to Darrell and whatever fun might lie ahead today.

14

BROWNSEA ISLAND – JULY 1998

Rebekah finished her rounds of the bird hides that nestled in the woodlands on the edge of the lagoon, checking for any straggler visitors or detritus from the day’s activities. She didn’t want anything foreign to the natural landscape ending up in the lagoon, or anywhere else on the island for that matter. She recalled again the mantra from the Australian national parks back home:take nothing but memories, leave nothing but footprints.It was simple, but effective. Even something so ordinary and organic as a banana skin didn’t belong in this landscape and shouldn’t be left to rot among the leaf litter.

The birdwatchers had all left for the little quay to catch the last ferry off the island, except for those who were staying at the campsite or in the castle. The open-air theatre Shakespeare play was due to start in two days’ time, so excitement was building, and the campsite was booked to full occupancy. The castle was expected to be heaving with private guests, too. This all made it much more complicated than usual to keep an eye on who was supposed to be on the island, and who should have left by now, and there were dozens of people from the Brownsea Open Air Theatre company, known as BOAT for short, milling abouton the Church Field. Rebekah stood for a moment and watched them all buzzing around busily in the afternoon sunshine.

The seating gallery was all set up, and the stage was ready, complete with theatrically roped curtains. Final preparations were being made to the set forAs You Like It, and a group of actors was rehearsing a scene off to one side. Rebekah watched as she recognised the character of Rosalind in the act of revealing to Orlando that she was, in fact, the object of his admiration.

Rebekah sighed, and chastised herself for her gloominess over Paul. She was, after all, a confirmed bachelorette who had no intention of being roped into a relationship that might tie her down and hold her back, or worse – leave her black and blue and utterly violated. She still had plans: places to go, things to achieve, books to read. She snorted with mirth at her last thought and headed back towards reception to see off the last ferry and close reception for the day.

It had been almost five days since she had last seen Paul, the man she reluctantly admitted to herself now had become the object of her admiration after the blissful twenty-four hours she had spent with him last weekend.

Their evening out on the Isle of Purbeck had been pure perfection. The late-afternoon sunlight had been glorious and Rebekah had marvelled at the change in the weather from the gloomy rain when they woke up in the morning, to what had morphed into a beautiful summer’s evening. They drove through Wareham to the village of Corfe Castle and parked in the National Trust car park, which Rebekah could use free of charge.

‘Just another way to save money with the annual pass,’ she had pointed out to Paul, who was already convinced he wanted to come back in the daytime to visit the castle itself.

‘It’s absolutely amazing – like something out of a storybook,’ he said, gazing up at the perfect grassy mound with the remains of an ancient, fortified castle perched atop.

‘It probably looked a bit better a few hundred years ago, before the roundheads destroyed the place in the civil war.’ Rebekah laughed as she led him along the path and away from the castle. ‘This is a circular walk, and it starts with a nice little hill climb up some steps. We’ll be able to look back at the castle from the top,’ she told him.

As they walked up the steep steps to the top of the hill, they chatted about the lives they each lived when they weren’t being entirely spontaneous with a complete stranger in the Dorset countryside.

‘So how often do you actually work in London, Paul, compared to time spent on little jaunts like this one to Poole?’ she asked him, noticing how much more out of breath he was than her. An active life of constant walking in the outdoors really did pay off in fitness levels, she thought.

‘It’s probably about fifty-fifty,’ he puffed. ‘Around half my time, I’m based at home and lots of the jobs are within and around London itself, so there’s no need to stay away. But then the other half are jobs that can be anywhere around the country, or sometimes even abroad. I’ve been to Dorset several times before, but I’ve never seen so much of Poole as I have this time, thanks to you,’ he said, stopping with his hands on his hips to catch his breath.

They had reached the top of the hill and, as promised, had a wonderful view of the castle from above, which looked even more complete from this angle. Rebekah pointed out to him where the original external walls were and the shape of the castle itself from the remaining ruins and foundations.

‘I haven’t been out here for ages,’ Rebekah said. ‘One of the downsides to not having a car is that I don’t do these thingsas spontaneously as I’d like to. I could get here on the bus, of course, but it’s not quite the same.’

‘You drove at home in Brisbane, then?’ Paul asked her.

‘Oh yes – Brisbane is an impossible city to get around without a car because the areas are so huge. Public transport all works as if it runs on the spokes of a wheel – everything is fine if you want to get in and out of the city centre, but trying to get across suburbs is just about impossible without a car. The city bounds themselves cover over five hundred square miles, but plenty of my friends from university lived well outside that area and people commute into the city from as far as forty or fifty miles away. In comparison, just to give you an idea, the whole county of Dorset is about a thousand square miles in total. So, yes, I learnt to drive as soon as I could, back home.’

‘I only ever use my car when I leave London. The Tube is so handy, and the traffic so bad, that there’s really no point driving anywhere. But a drive in the country with good company? That’s precious,’ he said with a smile that reflected the warmth of the summer evening sun.

Rebekah felt her skin glowing and knew it was from more than the fresh air and exercise. As they walked on towards Brenscombe Hill, she pointed out the various islands in Poole Harbour, of which they had a virtual bird’s eye view from this height.

‘So somewhere across there is Rose Cottage on Brownsea Island, and beyond that, my bed in the Harbour Heights Hotel,’ he said thoughtfully, and she briefly let her mind wander to what a night spent in his hotel room could be like.

As the walk route brought them back around into Corfe village, Paul admired the cute little thatched cottages – all made from Purbeck stone, as promised by Rebekah – and each sporting a remarkably small front door. They found their way into the Greyhound Inn, Paul ducking under the low doorframe,and went through the stone-floored and timber-beamed main bar to the beer garden in the back where they could sit and look up into the ruined stone walls of the castle above them. They ordered their meals and drank deliciously cloudy Dorset apple cider while they waited.

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