Page 107 of That Island Feeling

‘What boat did she take, Billy or Hannah?’ I demand.

‘Isn’t the motor out on one of them? She’s refused my help to fix it, so it’s the other one that’s missing.’

Hannah. She took Hannah – the rowboat with Arthur’s stupid anti-gravity oars.

I feel like I’m going to throw up.

Chapter Fifty-one

ANDIE

Igaze at Dad, nestled between Toby and me on the couch, while the delicious fumes of chicken soup warming on the stovetop tickles my nose. Instead of taking him straight back to the home, we’ve decided to spend the afternoon together at my apartment.

It was a long shot, but I thought the shell might have triggered Dad’s memory of his teaching days at the University of Sydney. We rushed to the fig tree in the quadrangle where he always met Mum for lunch, only to find it deserted, and our hopes sank. But as we drove back to my place to get some much-needed rest, the police called. We’d been in spitting distance of him. A member of the marine biology department discovered him curled up asleep in the doorway of the science faculty staff room. Though his clothes were damp, he appeared unharmed. After a check-up at the hospital – and confirmation that his earlier scan was all clear – he was discharged into our care.

Now we’re watching Happy Feet and eating Maltesers while our soup simmers, as if this were a regular Friday activity.

Toby jumps up from the couch. I thought he’d agreed to stay.

‘I’ll be back,’ he says, noticing my alarmed expression. ‘Just gotta pee.’

‘Right, sorry,’ I reply, shaking my head and feeling silly. I’m still on edge.

As he leaves the room, I check the cracked screen of my phone, which, thankfully, Toby managed to temporarily resuscitate.

There’s a message from Grace letting me know that she’ll drop my bags off later, and a notification from Storytime.

When was the last time you were happy?

I ponder the question for a moment, glancing at Dad again, who’s happily munching his chocolate. The seashell, now chipped in a few places, rests on his lap. I’m so relieved he’s back with us safely.

Aside from right now? The last time I was truly happy was yesterday – on the lily pad with Jack.

Toby crashes my thoughts as he leaps over the back of the couch and settles into his seat. ‘Okay, so when are we going to talk about it?’

‘Talk about what?’ I thought we’d already hashed out stuff about Dad. I’m going to do my best to let go of the reins a bit and pass some of the responsibility over to Toby. It’s not going to be easy, but it’s necessary if I want to find time to even look into doing a film course, or allow any joy back into my life.

‘Duh. Don’t play dumb with me. Tackle-box man.’

Oh.

I sigh. ‘There’s nothing really to say.’

‘Come on, now. I’ve outgrown my car seat, and I’m now well versed in romantic tension.’

Toby grins, and I pretend to adjust the blanket over Dad’s lap. He responds with a sweet unblinking gaze that says he knows I belong to him.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I mutter, but my cheeks burn as I think about how Jack took us in his boat in the middle of the night, still looked out for me, even after I effectively made him feel like he didn’t matter to me.

My mind is stuck in a Jack loop, even though it has no right to be. It’s too late. I’ve ruined things.

‘That tension was so thick, sis, I could have cut it with a knife.’

Butter knife. Scarred hands. Salty sweet oysters.

I shake my head to rid it of the images.

‘Dad was missing, that’s why!’ I blurt.

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