Page 64 of That Island Feeling

‘She’s going to be at this group dinner thing at Moorings. I’m headed there now and was thinking of inviting her back to mine for dessert, or a nightcap, maybe? The only issue is, I’m doing a room set-up for a Clam Cove guest tonight.’

‘Well, ask her to come with you!’ Lena exclaims.

‘To work? I don’t think so,’ I groan, eyeing the lilies growing along Mum’s garden fence. If I reached down and . . . Oops, now I’m gripping a bunch of freshly picked lilies. I hope Mum hasn’t seen me through the window, or she’ll have me composted. The fact I’m her son is of no relevance when it comes to her garden.

‘I’m bringing her some flowers?’ I say to Lena, more as a half-question.

‘Yes! Perfect. A nice simple gesture that shows her that this isn’t just some hook-up to you. Wait, she’s not just a hook-up, is she?’ she asks.

Lena has known me almost as long as Charlie has, and she’s seen everything I’ve gone through.

‘No. I really like her,’ I say.

‘Excellent! That’s what I thought. Well, as your official dating advisors, we expect regular updates, please.’

‘Of course.’

Lena’s voice drops into a hushed tone. ‘Quick, Jack. Charlie’s taking the rubbish out. Between you and me, I don’t think you need any help. I heard all about your Pearl Cove date – what a bloody dream. If you wouldn’t mind, could you have a word with Charlie about arranging something like that? We have our ten-year anniversary coming up a few months after the baby’s born . . .’

‘Can do, Lena. How about I babysit? The boys and the new addition. I’ll bring the arts and crafts.’

‘Did I mention that I like you better than I like my own husband?’

‘Just a few hundred times.’ I laugh as I ring off.

I’m the last to arrive at Moorings. The kitchen is a hive of activity – the four boys, shirtless and in aprons, are bustling around performatively, while the girls sit supervising at the island bench, swilling champagne. My eyes go straight to Andie. Perched on the stool furthest from the door, she’s exchanged my mum’s bathers for a white top and flowy summer skirt patterned with tiny flowers.

She’s deep in conversation with Grace, so I’m not sure she’s noticed my arrival. I’m about to make a beeline for her when Tom intercepts me with an open beer.

‘Do you have your starter ready?’ he whispers as he hands it to me. ‘These boys are still stuck in uni mode. I just stopped Richie from zapping aluminium in the microwave. Don’t count on any mains until midnight.’

‘Ha, yeah, I do. And also: hey mate. Good to see you. I’ve missed you.’ I’d like to find a quiet moment to sit down with him and talk through Alec’s plan. I’m not sure if he’d be tempted to leave The Oyster House’s farm and come back and work on the island, or if that ship has sailed now that Hannah’s passed.

‘I’ve missed you too, buddy. I’m glad you could make it tonight.’

‘Yeah, thanks for the invite.’ I set the food down on the countertop. The lilies are poking out of my bread bag, so I pull out the loaf and tuck the bag out of sight.

‘You know where everything is, right?’ Tom asks.

I shoot him a look that says, you’re kidding me.

I retrieve the wooden bread board from the cupboard above the sink, carefully manoeuvring around Garth, who’s elbow-deep in a pile of gluey flour that resembles the playdough Mum used to make me.

‘Pasta from scratch,’ he offers sheepishly.

Tom’s right. This dinner party is headed for disaster.

‘What are you making?’ Taylor asks, leaning in on her elbows to inspect my work station. I’m peeling fat cloves of garlic to rub over the bread.

As much as I believe she could be a better friend to Andie, they’re still very close; I want to make a good impression. So I pause, look up at her and smile warmly.

‘Bruschetta.’

I make sure I pronounce it correctly – broo-sketta and not broo-shetta – so I don’t sound like I washed up in the last tide.

‘Bruschetta is bullshit.’

Wow. She says it like I’ve just informed her I’m preparing kangaroo testicles.

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