Page 7 of That Island Feeling

Puzzled looks fill the room.

Andie narrows her eyes. ‘So this is actually for real – it’s not some big joke?’

‘Unfortunately not. Moorings is Clara and Tom’s late mother’s house.’ I hope she can tell that breaking this news is not fun for me either. At least I’ve become adept at handling disappointed tourists, diverting their attention from the fact that the island’s major attraction has vanished. ‘Hannah’s house,’ I add.

I know the name will mean nothing to them, but it still feels important for me to say.

‘Anyway, the crux of the matter is this: we’re not likely to hear back from either of them tonight, and the tide is too low for me to take any of you back to Port Hope. Here is what I propose –’

‘You’re taking the piss, right, mate? This is bullshit! We paid in full. We should be a case in by now!’ Richie whines.

I swallow hard, trying to regain my composure. They appear to be a multitude of cases in. Ben the buck is sloppy in his undone bow tie, and Garth’s head has fallen back against the couch.

I put my hand up, palm facing him. ‘Please hear me out, mate. Don’t shoot the messenger.’

I wonder if my cheeks are as red as the rage burning inside of me.

‘I would host you all, but I don’t have the room, unfortunately. I can show you the blankets if you guys are okay with staying on the couches down here? Ladies, we may need to make some room . . .’ I glance at the yellow foil ‘DIVORCED AF’ balloons floating around the room like alphabet soup.

If these weren’t Tom’s mates, and if I wasn’t doing everything in my power to encourage tourism, I’d be tossing them swags and suggesting they find a hard patch of ground to crash on.

‘Wait. Why do they get the beds?’ Richie demands.

I respond with a stern glare.

‘This could be fun!’ The blonde hat girl, Taylor, exclaims, standing and crossing over to the men’s couch. She pats Ben’s knee, motioning for him to shuffle over, and slots in next to a comatose Garth.

I observe Andie’s eyes on Taylor. She clears her throat then hesitates, as if wrestling with herself about something. ‘Yup, this could be fun,’ she echoes after a beat, voice falling flat as her eyes tick towards me.

Our gaze locks for several seconds; her expression remains unreadable. I hope she trusts that I’ll sort things.

Then she looks away, rises to her feet and marches straight over to the runaway balloons.

‘I need to borrow some of that height to fish these down,’ she directs at Ben.

‘I’ll grab the blankets,’ I say, trying to diffuse the room’s frosty atmosphere.

Chapter Six

ANDIE

Even with the bucks camped out downstairs we sleep in only two of the bedrooms. Lizzie and I jump into the queen and Grace and Taylor hunker down in the king next door. As I snuggle into Lizzie’s side, I’m instantly transported back to one of our many slumber parties.

‘Well, this is one for the history books,’ she laugh-whispers.

‘Do you think she’s mad?’ I whisper back.

‘Who?’

‘Taylor,’ I clarify. ‘Like, what a mess! This is not the start to the trip I had planned.’

‘Oooh, I don’t think she cares,’ Lizzie says, rolling onto her other side, away from me.

Maybe she’s right. After the captain left, we lingered downstairs, opening a bottle of red for a nightcap. A few nightcaps in, Ben pulled out his phone and started showing Taylor pictures of his fiancée. It seemed sweet, but I didn’t love how closely their heads bent together.

‘Did you think she was being a bit too familiar with Ben?’ I ask.

‘Ben? Nah. She could use some holiday fun.’