Page 81 of That Island Feeling

‘I’m perfectly capable of repairing the motor myself, when I get to it,’ Hazel continues. ‘Anyway, these gravity-defying oars that Arthur made me really give this baby some extra juice. Feels like I barely have to lift a finger.’

I’m not well versed in oars, but hers do seem to be curiously shaped, like hexagons.

Jack groans. ‘Honestly, Mum. You need to stop encouraging that man. Somehow, I don’t think they’re approved by the Maritime Safety Authority.’

‘Well, lucky you’re not required to think anything about it.’

I swallow a smile at Hazel’s frank attitude.

‘Anyway, I stopped by to invite Andie to the documentary screening.’

I’m amused by her casual phrasing – like she hasn’t rowed hundreds of metres to speak with us.

‘I’m finishing up the editing today, ready for the most exclusive of premieres at my house tomorrow night, 7 p.m. Can you make it, Andie?’ she asks eagerly.

‘Oh, ah – well – um, let me have a quick think.’

My first thought is not the girls, but Jack. It’ll be our last night together. Holiday hook-up rule number twelve: Let it play out naturally. But surely that doesn’t apply to the final night of the holiday fling.

‘You’ll be there too, Jack.’

‘I will, will I?’ I can’t see his expression, but I can imagine the exact quirk of his eyebrow. ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ he says, warmth flooding his voice.

‘Me either,’ I confirm enthusiastically, attempting to right my initial hesitation.

‘You’re more than welcome to bring your group, Andie – although I can’t guarantee seating for everyone. Unless they happen upon some river treasure on the way. How does that silly poem go? “Admission is free, you can pay at the door. We’ll give you a seat, so you can sit on the floor”.’ Hazel chuckles.

‘Oi!’ booms a deep male voice.

We’ve been so engrossed in our conversation that we failed to notice a fishing boat approaching. Richie leans over the edge and waves.

The boat chugs to a stop and Ben and Garth rush to join Richie at the side nearest to us, causing the boat to visibly tip.

‘Guys!’ Tom shouts from his position at the wheel. It’s evidently been a bream-and-beers kind of fishing trip.

Instead of returning to the centre of the boat to distribute their weight more evenly, Richie yells, ‘Yew!’ and leaps off the side.

‘Idiot,’ Jack mutters.

Tom shakes his head as Richie pops up, gasping. ‘Mate, that was incredibly dangerous. I haven’t even dropped anchor.’

An instinct that feels suspiciously close to evil washes over me. It’s my turn to cry Woof.

‘Careful. We saw a bull shark in that exact spot earlier,’ I call.

‘Oh, Woof.’ Hazel laughs. ‘You really are getting well acquainted with this island, aren’t you?’ She exchanges a meaningful look with Jack.

Meanwhile, Richie splashes and splutters his way back to the boat.

‘I’ve heard that the calmer you are, the less likely you are to lose a limb,’ I shout sweetly.

Jack turns to grin at me. If he didn’t know what I was made of before, he certainly does now.

‘We might head back,’ he says to Hazel. ‘It’s getting busier on the water, and I don’t want to get caught in any river crossfire. I’ve got precious cargo to return to shore.’

Shit. What was that holiday hook-up rule again? Don’t catch feelings.

The fact he’s speaking about me like this in front of his mother is making my heart race.

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