Page 109 of That Island Feeling

‘What’s all this about, then?’ she asks when I finally release her.

‘Are you serious? You’ve been gone all night!’

She arches an eyebrow. ‘And?’

And . . . Well, okay, I suppose I often don’t know where she is – it’s not like we’re joined at the hip. The whole thing with Andie’s dad has obviously made me extra paranoid.

‘I was worried. Why didn’t you send me a message?’

‘If I could message you, then I wouldn’t have had to go to Port Hope to get the entry in on time, would I?’ she says matter-of-factly.

‘Huh?’ I can’t even pretend to be following what she’s talking about.

‘Entries closed at midnight, so I had no choice but to row to the mainland and book into Anglers Rest for the night – I submitted it at 11.59 p.m.,’ she says triumphantly. ‘Then I went down to the bar for a little celebratory tipple and met the most gorgeous man – a saxophonist here from the States. And now, well, here I am, returned to my worrywart son.’

I’m not sure where to start. ‘What did you enter?’ I finally ask.

‘Holibob magazine’s Best Island competition, of course! You didn’t think I poured my heart and soul into that documentary just for shits and giggles, did you?’

‘Well, I, ah . . .’ I stammer. Truthfully, I hadn’t thought too deeply about it after she mentioned wanting to make a tribute for Hannah.

Her eyes sparkle as she pulls a bottle of champagne from her shoulder bag.

‘We must celebrate with breakfast mimosas! You can’t get this delicious of a drop at the general store. Do you want to run over to Moorings and fetch Andie? We should have an hour or so before her ferry. It’ll be a nice send-off – though something tells me it won’t be long before she’s back on Pearl again.’

I look at the ground.

‘Oh, Jack! Surely, you’ve spoken to her since last night? What did she think of our dedication?’

The excitement in Mum’s voice causes a literal ache in my heart.

I clear my throat. ‘Briefly. I took her back to Port Hope last night – her dad’s missing.’

Mum’s mouth falls open as her hand flies to her chest. ‘Gosh, no! The poor thing! What are you still doing here? Why aren’t you with her? You didn’t come back looking for me, did you?’ Her words run together.

‘No, no,’ I reassure her.

‘Well, then why?’ Mum demands.

She made it pretty clear that she didn’t want me there, or anywhere near her life, that’s why, I think, heart sore. I swallow.

‘I did what you said, Mum. I listened to that soul-bending heart thrum, but I’m afraid that our lives are too different.’

With that, I take the champagne from her hand, sling her bag over my shoulder, and walk back up the dock.

REAL LIFE

Three Weeks After

Chapter Fifty-three

JACK

‘Cheer up, Charlie,’ Charlie says, placing a coffee at my elbow.

I lift my head up off the counter, arms folded in front of me. ‘Isn’t that my line?’

‘Mate, I am all the way cheered. You’ve seen the foot traffic recently. I am doing more than okay. Since that article was printed, it’s been standing room only in here. The joy I felt having to turn those blasted Lycra stay-for-three-hours-order-one-four-dollar-coffee bandits away! And did you know Brad came in here yesterday, begging – absolutely begging – to buy a box of ice creams? He was all sold out and hadn’t thought to order extra. I kindly gave them to him – at triple the price, of course.’ Charlie is positively gleeful. ‘Your mum is something else, Coops.’

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