Page 16 of That Island Feeling

Example of said appropriate footwear?

A picture arrives. I click to see a blurry photo of Jack’s feet in Havaianas. His toes are covered in sand and cling to thongs that appear to have once been black but are now a washed-out grey. Of course, perpetually barefoot Jack is teasing.

You shouldn’t give away your feet pics for free, I type. Even 72 dpi feet.

I’m not. The cost of one foot pic is a foot pic.

Without thinking, I snap a photo of my sandals and send it.

Jack’s reply comes once I’m back downstairs and clearing away the dirty plates and half-eaten dips.

Pearl Island Bowlo approved.

Thank you. Btw any news from Clara? I’m not sure how much longer we can keep cohabiting . . .

I wipe the scallop crumbs off the counter – more aggressively than necessary.

You can’t just pretend they’re white noise?

I snort. I prefer my humpback whales not snore and leave their shit everywhere.

You’re right. I’m more partial to whales who don’t assault my fishing gear.

Ha. Just so you know, I had no part in that.

Oh, I know. And don’t worry, they’ll be out of your hair this evening. I’m escorting them to their new place before dinner.

My shoulders relax and I exhale slowly. Though I’m aware Jack didn’t sort things solely for me, it feels nice that, for once, someone else is taking charge.

Chapter Nine

JACK

After getting the bucks settled at Keith’s place, I head over to the bowling club with them to meet the girls. The evening unfolds in a blur of the usual terrible cover band, featuring Arthur as the sole musician in his signature red bandana and nineties sunnies, and some daggy dancing. Everyone is up on the dance floor except Andie. I watch as she ferries drinks between the bar and her friends’ table, hardly pausing to take a sip of her own.

When the club closes at 10 p.m., it’s clear the party has only just begun.

‘Back to ours for a nightcap?’ Richie asks as he stumbles down the wonky staircase and almost face-plants into the community garden.

Taylor leans forward, fumbling with her phone; she’s being held up by Lizzie.

‘And two-minute noodles?’ she slurs.

‘Genius!’ Garth cries. ‘Nightcaps and noodles.’

My stomach flips. I think about the way I scrubbed Keith’s kitchen from top to bottom only a few hours earlier. There’s no way I’m not going to chaperone them.

This side of the island is wilder; the pathways are less fringed than forested.

Taylor heads up the pack, her heels off and dangling from Ben’s hands. Richie and Garth, followed by Grace and Lizzie, walk behind them.

Andie hangs back, so I fall into step beside her.

‘Can you believe that after trying to get rid of them for the past twenty-four hours, we’re now choosing to spend time with them?’ she grumbles.

I let out a low laugh. ‘Clearly your decision.’

Her eyes slice sideways. ‘We should be in our pyjamas watching our day two movie by now. And day one’s,’ she adds, ‘since we missed that too.’

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