Page 49 of That Island Feeling

If there’s a way of looking sexy while trudging through the sand, it’s certainly eluded me. At least it’s late in the day, so the sand is refreshingly cool underfoot. I’m content trailing behind Jack, quietly admiring his muscular calves, and grateful that he’s spared the sight of my uncoordinated clip-clopping, like a stunted thoroughbred.

We grew up near the coast, spending countless days at the beach. In the last few years, I’ve visited even more frequently. Mum, Dad and I, then just Dad and I, sometimes with Toby, would sit on a wooden bench overlooking the ocean. It always has a calming effect on us. The warmth of the sun, the gentle breeze and the sound of waves is said to trigger sensory memories. When Mum became unable to drive, shortly after starting her treatment, I took them to the beach after school. Our daily ritual always ended with a comfort movie of Mum’s choice.

I’m a sweaty mess by the time we reach the far end of the beach. Thankfully, there’s no make-up to slide off my face – I’d opted for a tinted SPF for a natural, dewy look and a lick of waterproof mascara. Still, I’d appreciate a quick mirror-check, or at least a glance at a shiny shell to make sure I don’t look like a sea anemone. But all thoughts of my appearance vanish when my eyes land on the gorgeous set-up in front of me. A peach picnic blanket, the colour of the changing sky, is laid out in front of a pair of sweeping palms connected by a hammock swinging lazily in the breeze. The blanket is scattered with cushions, a vintage wicker picnic basket, and an ice bucket holding a bottle of wine.

‘Is this all for us?’ I ask, glancing around, half expecting to see the Bachelor film crew materialise.

Jack clears his throat. ‘Well, it took a bit to get you here, so I wanted to make sure it was worth your while.’

He motions to the portable charcoal barbecue balanced on a boulder next to us. ‘This thing needs a bit longer to heat up. How do you feel about a quick dip while it’s still light?’

He sees me hesitate.

‘I know you ignored my footwear instructions, but tell me you brought your swimmers . . .’

‘I did, I did,’ I laugh. Jack’s fears are unfounded: unlike my mother, I remembered to pack multiple swimsuits.

I look from the glittering river to Jack’s eager face, then back at the clear water. It does look very inviting.

Screw it. I’m going in.

I peel off my sundress to reveal my trusty black one-piece. With its retro silhouette and full bum coverage, I feel semi-decent in it.

Jack unbuttons his palm-tree shirt and I turn, distracting myself by rummaging in my tote bag for a beach towel.

‘Wait! What about your hand?’ I exclaim as my fingers brush against the box of Little Mermaid bandaids I found in the back of the cupboard at Moorings earlier.

‘Oh, yes.’ Jack is quick to appear by my side, leaving me no time to suck in my stomach. ‘Will you do the honours?’

He removes the old bandaid then sticks out his hand, and I apply the plaster to a non-existent wound.

‘Aaand, you’re all healed,’ I declare. ‘Too bad I ate all the lollipops.’

As we wander down to the water’s edge, I’m grateful for the cover of the shadowy dusk light. I’m first in, delighted to find a soft sandy riverbed underfoot and not sharp oyster shells. The water feels like a warm bath. It’s only a few degrees cooler in than it is out.

I’m chest-deep when a loud splash sounds from the shore and I turn to see Jack stroking powerfully towards me, his head above the water and a knife clamped between his lips, like a dog with a stick.

‘Shit. What’s that for?’ I ask as he pulls up beside me. I’m still standing, trying to avoid getting my hair wet.

He removes the knife from his mouth. ‘For the sharks,’ he says, expression solemn.

‘What?!’ I yelp.

I’ve been so worried about Jack seeing me in my swimsuit that I haven’t even stopped to consider what dangerous creatures might be lurking beneath the surface.

‘Duuunn dun . . . duuuunnnn dun . . . duuunnnnnnnn dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dun dunnnnnnnnnnn dunnnn,’ Jack hums ominously.

‘That’s not funny.’ I inch closer to him and have to hold myself back from jumping into his arms and wrapping my legs tightly around his waist.

‘Sorry, Andie. Bad joke.’ He sounds somewhat remorseful.

‘So, no Jaws?’ I ask shakily.

‘No Jaws,’ he reassures me. ‘Well, I can’t really guarantee that, but I’ve been swimming in this river my entire life and I’ve never had a close encounter.’

I relax and sink my whole body into the water, forgetting about my hair.

‘Except for Woof,’ Jack adds, a cheeky glint returning to his eye. ‘But he’s kinda like the island pet at this point.’

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