Page 2 of The Island in Bramble Bay
And who was Charlie?
2
FROM HIS VANTAGE point in the canopy of an ancient oak tree, Charlie watched the ferry cross the harbour wondering whether any of the teeny people he could see was the new park manager. As the boat docked, he leaned out from the tree, trusting his weight to his harness and the safety ropes so that he could get a better look.
The most likely candidate, he decided, was a woman with a mane of brown hair which glinted with hints of red when it caught the sun. No one visited for the day or even for a week in a holiday cottage with as much luggage as she had. From a distance, it was hard to tell how old she was, but she looked fit and dressed appropriately which Charlie thought was a good start. He had already concluded that there was little point in expecting anything from her because no one ever stayed. The island rarely lived up to the dream that new residents arrived with unless they were holidaymakers. The two managers that Charlie had known in the almost two years he’d been there had been worn down by the isolation and the bad winter weather and eventually left, each having had only one summer season on the island. He didn’t imagine it would be any different with this person.
Charlie didn’t mind the weather or the isolation, he loved the island all year round. It helped that he lived close by rather than actually on the island. A bit of distance and the ability to get away from the place whenever he wanted were definitely good, but he still struggled to understand how people could come here without having considered what the reality might be of living on an essentially uninhabited little island. The first manager Charlie had worked with had left because he realised he was never going to meet a woman who would be willing to relocate to Bramble Island. The chances of him ever meeting a woman and getting to the point of being able to ask a woman to do that anyway were slim because he was the only inhabitant of the island for much of the year. That kind of predicament didn’t matter to Charlie.
Once he’d finished checking the ancient oak for storm damage which was what he’d gone up there for, the view of the ferry being a handy coincidence, Charlie began to lower himself down. Still some ten metres from the ground, he paused. He could hear the crack of twigs as someone approached. It was the woman from the ferry, the new manager. Quickly debating whether to stay up in the tree to avoid having to meet her or whether to just get it over with, he plumped for the latter and carried on descending.
‘Oh, hi!’ she called, looking upwards and shading her eyes from the sun. She was smiling, she looked and sounded friendly, but Charlie was wary. He often found that first impressions were not always a good indication of what a person was like once you got to know them. Admittedly, it could go either way; better or worse, but best to be cautious, he thought.
As he reached the ground she made her way towards the tree, picking over the winter debris of twigs and branches, finally holding out her hand as she reached him.
‘I’m Maggie Cassidy, the new park manager. I’m guessing you’re part of the team?’
‘Charlie,’ he stated simply, ignoring her hand in favour of unclipping his harness.
‘You’re the forester?’ She’d lowered her hand and shoved it back into her coat pocket.
‘Yes, that’s right. Good to meet you,’ he said curtly, aware that he sounded like it was anything but.
‘Well, I look forward to working with you.’ She smiled in a disarming way that made Charlie fleetingly wonder whether perhaps she was different to the others after all.
‘Welcome to Bramble Island,’ he said, finally holding out his hand to her and seeing a look of relief sweep briefly across her face as she took it.
‘Thanks, Charlie. See you soon.’ She walked off, still smiling.
He watched her as she went, noticing how she was scrutinising the woodland, taking everything in, briefly stopping to examine a plant and then gazing up into the trees as she walked. He was pleasantly surprised at how much she seemed to be enjoying the environment and wondered whether that would last once she properly started work.
He sat down on a nearby log and dug out his sandwiches from the depths of his rucksack. On days like this, it was the only place he wanted to be. The wood was quiet with the only activity coming from the trees busily unfurling their acid green leaves and the wildflowers forcing their way through the dense woodland floor. Soon enough the island would be invaded by hundreds of visitors every day and then Charlie knew he would start to long for the winter when the woods would be his again.
His mind wandered back to Maggie. It would be good to have a like-minded person around, someone he could share his love for the island with. On a professional level, of course. It didn’t seem like too much to hope for. Then he shook his head and smiled ruefully to himself. He had based this hope on less than a minute of interaction with her, so not a lot to go on. She was trying to make a good first impression with her smiles and handshakes and could easily turn out to be a complete bitch. But something about her made him doubt that. She had seemed genuinely friendly and as out of practice as he was, he resolved to make an effort to be the same.
3
MAGGIE TRIED NOT to overthink Charlie’s reaction to her. She wanted to concentrate on the island, get back to losing herself in the tiny details which made it special. In the sunshine, it was perfect. The bright green colours of fresh spring leaves were everywhere and she had even seen a carpet of wood anemones that were already in flower.
Spotting cyclamen tucked in between the roots of a huge sycamore tree, she left the main path and went to have a closer look. The ground became springy as she trod where nothing had yet compacted the leaf rot from the previous year. The damp smell of the wood closed around her and she was enveloped by the cooler air where the trees were closer together. She loved looking for these tiny plants which grew, unplanned, in the most perfect of places.
Once she left the woodland, the island opened up into a clearer, more cultivated landscape. She strolled down the path to the Scout and Guide campsite and carried on, following the shoreline, to where there were ruins of an old village. There was so much to know about this place. She was at the opposite side of the island to where she had started and it had only taken her about half an hour, even accounting for the awkward few minutes she spent talking to Charlie. It felt amazing to be living somewhere that had so much history to it and somewhere she could easily explore and end up knowing like the back of her hand.
After her stroll around the island, Maggie headed back to the office. It was difficult to know where to start because there were messy piles of paper everywhere. She sat down at her desk and trying to be methodical, began reading everything and stacking it into piles for either rubbish, filing or to-do.
As it was only her and Charlie at the moment, she would have to request some volunteers from head office. They would be students, probably studying for an ecology degree or something similar, who wanted to get some relevant experience over the summer. Bramble Island must be a popular destination with volunteers, so she didn’t think it would be long before they would have some help.
She flicked the computer on to check the emails, already dreading the size of the inbox knowing that it had been a few months since her predecessor had left. As she waited for it to come to life, she picked up another pile of paper to tackle. It was several invoices from a tree surgery company in Poole for work they had done on the island. On closer inspection, it didn’t appear that they had carried out any work but rather that they had been checking work carried out by someone else. Was it to check Charlie’s work? At the moment, she knew so little of how everything operated on the island that although it seemed surprising that the Trust would employ a full-time forester and yet pay for his work to be checked, it was a possibility. From what she had seen, the woodland appeared to be well-managed and in good health and that must be, at least in some part, down to Charlie.
Charlie. Maggie hadn’t known what to make of him. When she’d watched him lowering himself down from the trees, the harness tight around his thighs, her stomach had flipped. The dark hair that flopped down over his eyes was lovely and she had found herself suppressing a sudden desire to sweep it out of the way until he’d done it himself with a hand that told of the rugged nature of his work, tanned already by the spring sunshine, the muscles rippling along his forearms as he had unclipped himself from the harness. She thought she’d detected an American accent but he’d said so little that she couldn’t be sure.
The fleeting moment of lust she’d felt had made her blush right down to her toes as it was replaced with embarrassment when she’d thought he wasn’t going to shake her hand. In the end he had, but she was left feeling confused. Did he like her or not? What reason would he have for being unfriendly? Unless it was to do with the paper she held in her hand now. It would come to light eventually, she supposed. These things always did.
Maggie checked through some of the emails and flagged the ones which she’d need to address sooner rather than later, finishing off by emailing her request for volunteers to head office before she called it a day.
Back at the cottage, she flung open all the windows and doors and set about giving it a cursory clean; it wasn’t dirty, it just needed freshening up. She unpacked the few home comforts she’d brought with her and placed them thoughtfully throughout the cottage. A woven woollen blanket was draped over the back of the squashy two-seater sofa, a blanket that her grandmother had crocheted for her when she went to university was folded across the foot of the bed and she dotted framed photographs and scented candles around the bedroom and lounge.
The spring sunshine had given the last of its heat as the afternoon headed towards dusk and Maggie closed the windows and lit a fire in the grate to make the cottage cosy. Luckily, she’d had the foresight to buy some milk from the café before it had closed so she made a welcome cup of tea and collapsed on the sofa.
