Page 41 of That Island Feeling

I open Dad’s story next. His expression is flat, but there’s a flicker of awareness in his eyes that’s since dimmed. This footage must be at least five years old.

Dad, what was your favourite holiday? I cringe as the sound of my younger self resonates through my skull.

Pillow. Lily, he rasps.

Mum’s entire face fills the screen, her skin radiating a healthy glow.

Mum! You’re too close.

She steps back from the camera. She’s dressed in her teaching outfit: a T-shirt featuring a famous movie quote – this one reads: ‘Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn’, and is paired with a blazer and jeans.

Sorry, honey. He means Pearl Island too. Harry loved reminding me how I insisted on bringing my own pillows from home and made him cart them on the river ferry. But then I forgot my swimsuit. He never complained about my skinny-dipping though! It’s largely responsible for how we came home with you in my belly, Andrea. Of course, we didn’t realise we’d fallen pregnant at the time. You were made from oysters and wine.

I hug my phone to my chest, like Mum’s housed inside it and not in the ground.

I eventually make it downstairs and nibble on a piece of dry toast, chuckling to myself as the memory of nibbling on Jack’s hand flashes through my mind.

It’s another stunning day. But the mood at Moorings is low-key. Low-key dying of alcohol poisoning. Grace is open-mouthed snoring on a hammock outside, while Taylor and Lizzie have yet to make an appearance.

Miraculously, after a dunk in the pool, I’m feeling human enough to get dressed.

I’m setting up day four’s ‘Famous exes’ game when the girls finally trickle into the living room.

‘What’s all this?’ Taylor asks, rubbing sleep from her panda eyes as she takes in the flash cards with celebrity names I’ve arranged in the centre of the coffee table, along with a lemon-coloured notepad and pen set at each of our places.

‘A fun quiz!’ I say enthusiastically, and Grace groans.

‘Seriously, Ands. Aren’t you hungover?’ she asks, flopping onto the couch.

I swallow thickly, my throat dry. ‘Yeah, a little,’ I admit. ‘But I thought some games might help us feel better . . .’

And it was actually on the itinerary, I think – unlike most of what we’ve done over the past few days.

I brush off their lacklustre response and start explaining the rules. ‘Basically, we have to match the celebrity exes, and the person with the most correct pairs wins. So, for example,’ I pick up two of the cards, ‘Miley Cyrus goes with Liam Hemsworth.’

I’m met with blank stares.

‘Okay, let me show you another,’ I continue. ‘Olivia Wilde and Harry Styles are a match.’ I stack their cards on top of each other.

‘Do you want to have a go, Tay?’

She takes a moment to power to life. ‘Oh my God, Jack!’

My face scrunches. There are no famous Jacks on the table.

‘I just remembered that whole thing in the bathroom last night. He asked you out!’

Oh. ‘Ah, well, yeah . . .’ My face feels warm as my mind replays the interaction.

‘Shit, I was sooooo drunk, I completely forgot that happened – until Harry Styles just reminded me!’

‘Really? What do you mean?’ They don’t look alike. Different hair and eye colour and builds – I’d guess that Jack is twice Harry Styles’ size.

‘I think it’s the same whole unserious vibe thing he has going on. Remember when Harry showed up barefoot at the Brit Awards? Maybe it’s also an age thing? He’s younger, right?’

‘Mm, maybe,’ I say, purposely vague.

‘So are you going to go?!’ Lizzie asks.

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