Page 89 of That Island Feeling

Her eyes flick up at me. ‘Yup. Well, it did. Before I became fixated on this darn island feeling.’ She laughs lightly.

‘And do you think you’ve found it here yet?’ I probe, feeling a flutter in my chest.

‘Hmm, I really don’t know. I don’t have any photos or footage to guide me, so I’m just following the clues from her stories and my instincts. I suppose I’m waiting for that overwhelming sense of certainty to hit me.’

As I study her beautiful, hopeful face I can’t shake the thought that perhaps this magical feeling she’s searching for vanished with the oysters.

What is Pearl Island now, without them? My chest tightens as if pressed by a heavy weight.

Back at my cabin an hour later, I’m grilling us our bacon-and-egg sandwiches. Instead of sitting on the counter, supervising the bread as it crisps up into the perfect golden brown, Andie is curled up on the couch. I’m glad she feels comfortable here, but it’s clear that something is troubling her.

‘Do you want to call your dad?’ I ask, raising my voice slightly to be heard over the sizzle.

‘Mm?’ She looks up from her phone, eyes glazed. She could just be tired from a combination of too much wine and our long boat trip home.

‘Your dad? Or Toby? You should have reception here,’ I repeat.

‘Oh right, yes. That’s okay, thank you.’ She looks back at her phone.

I glance at her again, then lift the hot skillet from the hob and turn off the flame. I walk over to the sofa and sit down beside her, placing a gentle hand on her leg.

‘Hey, is everything okay?’ I ask quietly. ‘Is it your dad?’

‘Oh no, no. Toby texted earlier to say everything was fine there. If I call Dad, it will only confuse him. We decided it was best to have no contact.’ Her voice wobbles as she says it.

‘But I bet you’re missing him?’ I ask, taking one of her hands in mine and preparing to listen intently.

‘A bit, yes. I gave him this seashell to help him remember where I’ve gone – not that it will actually be useful – but I realised I didn’t bring anything of him with me . . . So I was just looking at some videos on my phone. It’s silly, really. I’ll be home the day after next anyway. I think maybe our conversation earlier about the movies and why I came here stirred something up, and now I can’t remember if I replaced the coloured dots on his television remote. He needs a green sticker for the on button and a blue one for the volume otherwise he sits there with no one to hel–’

‘Andie, breathe,’ I cut in, drawing her close and cocooning her in my arms. ‘I’m sure Toby has it under control. Right now, your only job is to relax. I get the feeling that you’re good at everything else, except for maybe that.’

She shuffles out of my arms and tilts her head, eyeing me incredulously. ‘Excuse me, but I can be very good at relaxing.’

‘Alright, show me,’ I challenge, already feeling triumphant at the sight of her watery smile.

She kicks her feet up onto the sofa and settles back against the cushions.

‘See?’ she says, sticking out her tongue.

‘Now, how about closing your eyes?’ I suggest.

‘I mean, I could . . . or I could stay awake for our late-night snack?’ she replies, her smile turning wry and wide.

‘Message received.’ I grin back, leaning down to kiss her deeply before leaping up to switch the hob back on to finish grilling our extra-hot sandwiches.

She leaves before sunrise again, even though I ask her to stay. My thoughts should be consumed by my impending decision for Alec later today, but instead they’re preoccupied with her.

Chapter Thirty-eight

ANDIE

‘Fuck!’ I shout as I stub my toe on the path somewhere near Jack’s cabin. A sharp pain shoots through my foot, and I squat down to inspect my injury. It isn’t bleeding, but it still registers a solid five on the jellyfish pain scale. I glare at the culprit: a pothole that urgently needs to be filled with crushed oyster shells. I had hoped to become a birdwatching expert by the end of this trip, but apparently my focus has shifted to roadworks, the intricacies of limestone production, and one irresistible island local.

Serves me right for having my head in the clouds, I think as the throbbing starts to dull. I’m lucky I didn’t twist my ankle. I should have been more careful in the dark. Lights dot the way, but they’re more for ambiance than any real functionality. I straighten up and scan my surroundings for a familiar landmark. I don’t recognise where I am. Have I somehow overshot the usual employees’ access gate, I wonder? I decide to press on anyway, growing increasingly disoriented with each step as my thoughts swirl.

I’ve just experienced two of the best nights of my life – so why do I feel so anxious? I mull, grappling with what feels like a vulnerability hangover. Maybe it’s an actual hangover – I did have most of that sparkling.

I didn’t mean to reveal everything about Mum and that island feeling. But as Jack shared his own stories – about Clara, and caring for Hannah – it crystallised what I guess I’d sensed all along. He wasn’t just a flirty local seeking out a good time with tourists. Maybe he was someone I could truly rely on, someone with real feelings for me.

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