Page 40 of That Island Feeling

‘Shh,’ she whispers to me as she climbs onto the chair seat and thrusts the phone in the air above her head.

Hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo. Hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo. Hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo.

I watch as her eyes light up with each haunting hoot. I love seeing her in her element. After a few minutes of lyrical birdsong, she lowers her arm.

‘What was that about?’ I ask as she climbs down off the chair.

‘For the documentary,’ she explains, collecting the candle contraption and rushing into the house. This time I follow her. ‘I need to transfer this to my computer so I can get on with editing before it loses battery,’ she mutters, more to herself than to me.

This is why she was inside when I arrived, I realise as we step in to her study, which is lit with the glowing screen of her laptop.

‘Well, it looks like you’re all sorted here. I’ll call around in the morning if the power isn’t back on by then.’

‘Okay, Jack,’ she murmurs, but I can tell I’ve lost her to her computer.

I bend to kiss the top of her silvery head.

‘There’s some oranges and a box of broken glass for you on the kitchen bench,’ she instructs, eyes locked on the screen. ‘I had a few accidental bumps in the dark with some vases earlier.’

I laugh. ‘Thanks, Mum. I hope they weren’t good ones.’

‘Well, I’ll find that out in the morning, won’t I?’

I’m nearly at the front door when her voice drifts down the hallway.

‘I’ll put in a good word with that lovely Andie-girl for you tomorrow.’

I pause, my hand resting on the bronze doorknob. ‘What’s tomorrow?’ I call out.

‘It just so happens she misplaced the Tupperware from her cake. I’m sure she’ll be back for it.’

I snort. Just so happens, hey? Like mother like son.

Chapter Nineteen

ANDIE

It’s time to complete your prompt! The Storytime notification pops up on my phone as I roll onto my side to find a fresh, cold patch of sheet.

If my phone is on, then power must have been restored. By the time I went to sleep last night the battery was completely dead. A relief, really, because who knows what my drunkie self would have texted Jack. Apparently, adding ice to a pitch-black house on a full moon was a recipe for absolute madness. With no operational blender to make frozen margaritas, we opted for tequila on the rocks with the leftover ice. A game of murder in the dark was suggested and promptly abandoned – the only things we were capable of murdering were our livers. Then Grace found the penis piñata I was saving for our final night (I had grand plans for a sort of completion ceremony) and it somehow ended up in the fire pit along with our charred exes – after copping a thorough beating.

I haven’t decided if I’ll meet Jack tonight. All I know is that I can’t shake the image of his mischievous grin from last night’s escapades, the flowing conversation, and the intoxicating feelings that made me forget to worry about being anywhere but with him. The thought of seeing him again makes my stomach explode into a swarm of excited butterflies. One butterfly seems to escape, travelling south and fluttering between my legs.

I reach for my phone and type out a message.

You haven’t specified tonight’s footwear. P.S. I’m not saying I’m definitely meeting you.

Rather than torture myself waiting for a reply, I swiftly exit our text chain, send a quick check-in message to Toby, and then find myself clicking into the Storytime app.

Your life of stories collected to remember, the title screen greets me. I swipe away today’s prompt, What were you like as a teenager? and tap into the completed stories, scrolling through years and years of videos, until I locate the one I’m after.

What was your favourite holiday?

They’d both answered this one. I take a deep breath and click into Mum’s clip first. It’s like looking in the mirror. Her honeyed eyes are framed by dark curls that cascade around her heart-shaped face. Her hair is a deep blue-black compared to my brown. I reach out to touch the screen as she speaks, her velvety voice instantly soothing me.

Gosh! Hands down, Pearl Island. So many lazy mornings spent in bed after nights staying up late playing games of Jenga and UNO, paired with too much wine. After lunch, we’d eventually make it outside and roll straight into the river. Dinner was plate after plate of the freshest oysters eaten with a squeeze of lemon juice and a splash of Tabasco. Total bliss.

As the clip ends, there’s a faint clatter of something in the background. I remember accidentally knocking the TV remote off the coffee table.

---