But Anna, though relatively fit, is not an athlete. As the sun slides towards the horizon, she knows she is at the end of her physical strength. Worries they will be stranded start to filter in. Although they are within sight of the island, there is no landing here. The land meets the sea in a sheer cliff. A tiny lick of panic thrills through her. There is a limit to trust beyond which lies idiocy, and they are fast approaching that line.
Enchanted
As if he can sense Anna’s thoughts, Tolly says, “Not far now.”
They round the next headland and Anna is relieved to see a beach. It is larger than most of the ones they have passed.
“Stop paddling,” Tolly instructs. “I will guide us in.”
Anna is happy to be obedient. She lays her paddle across the front of the kayak as Tolly powers them through the last stretch and up onto the sand. The beach is deserted, but stacked stones and random boxes raised on legs show it experiences regular occupation by humans. Anna waits until Tolly has got out, knowing he will steady the kayak for her. Still, she stumbles as she exits and Tolly catches her. She would like to admire the hard planes of his body against hers, but the arm clamped around her belly has given her a more urgent consideration.
“What’s the etiquette here?” she asks, ducking her head to remove her life vest. “Do I find a bush or dig a hole or what?”
Tolly grins. “This is a campsite. It’s got toilets.” He points and she sets off. The porta potties are ugly and strangely alien to this beautiful area, but they are probably a necessity to prevent further damage to the environment. When she exits the chemical toilet, she sees Tolly waiting for her. He’s carrying a container of water and a bundle of firewood. She looks around. There is no sign of a hotel or other accommodation.
Cautiously, she asks, “We aren’t planning on staying here overnight, are we?” There are limits to her adventurist spirit. Best to be upfront about them. “I’m not a keen camper.”
“No,” he admits. “Marco will be along later to take us off. This is just dinner.”
While Tolly bustles about laying and lighting the fire in a ring of stones, Anna sits on a picnic table to watch the sun set. Her stomach has long forgotten the burger at lunch and the snacks Tolly provided along the way. It growls. From the depths of the kayak, Tolly produces a small cool bag. He sets a line of foil wrapped parcels into the fire to cook. It isn’t long before he joins Anna and hands her two parcels on a flattish stone as a plate. They sit shoulder to shoulder, and despite their shirts separating their skin, Anna is hyper-aware of the contact. She unwraps the foil to find bamboo skewers with pieces of fish and vegetables. She blows on her food and then delicately lifts the skewer to her lips to nibble at anything cool enough to eat without scorching her tongue. As they eat, the sun disappears, a ball of brilliant orange slipping below the endless sea. The darkness soon closes in, the little fire in the stones the only source of light.
Anna breathes out slowly. She takes a sip from her refilled water bottle and thinks about their day. She knows the effort it must have taken on many people’s behalf to organise this trip, especially at short notice. It would be easy to overlook it, it is so unobtrusive. But Anna grew up with staff easing her path through life. She recognises the patterns. Food ready prepared, firewood handily available and, of course, the trips to and from the island facilitated by the taciturn Marco.
“Thank you for today,” she says to Tolly, her eyes looking out to sea. “And thank your staff too for arranging it.”
“No problem,” he says, but it is not clear if he is speaking for himself or his staff.
She lies back. The dark is absolute; there is no moon. But the sky overhead seems ablaze with stars. Some of them are startlingly bright. She wishes she could identify them all, but beyond the easy-to-find constellations of Orion, Cassiopea andthe Plough, she has no clue. She thinks she finds Venus near the horizon, but she cannot be sure.
Tolly crumples his foil and lies back to join her. The temperature is dropping, and she is happy for the added warmth emanating from his body. Her muscles are tired. She must remember to stretch them before she goes to sleep later, or she doubts she will be able to lift her arms tomorrow. Strangely, she doesn’t feel the need to fill the vast starlit void with chatter.
Her mind tunes in to the rush of the waves coming into shore, their gentle retreat. If the table were not so uncomfortable, she could fall asleep. She has not felt so at peace for years. This must be why Tolly likes it.
A bark startles her and she almost falls off the table. Tolly’s hand catches her. Through it, she can feel him chuckling. Despite her faith in him to keep her safe, she can’t help asking, “They don’t have dingoes, do they?”
“No. They have foxes, but that’s a sea lion. Be glad it isn’t breeding season.”
Not much later, her ears pick up the sound of an engine, a discordant industrial mutter amid the natural rhythms. Their day is ending. She is tired enough to welcome the motorboat’s arrival but inexplicably sad to be leaving the island.
“Marco,” Tolly says, a regretful tinge to his voice. He sits up. The little fire is down to glowing embers. Using his phone light, Tolly stows their waste in the kayak and then returns for Anna.
The motorboat is idling, not far out to sea, its lights shimmering on the water’s surface. Anna reckons she could wade out to it if she didn’t care about getting wet. Instead, Tolly instals her once more in the kayak, then pushes it out to sea to turn it around. Anna feels the kayak dip as his weight transfers to it. A few strong strokes later, Marco is wordlessly half-hauling, half-helping Anna onto the boat. He ignores her ashe holds the kayak steady for Tolly, and then the two of them haul it out of the water and store it down one side between the guardrail and the cockpit. Anna retreats to the seating area to make sure she is out of the way as the two men move about. She gives in to her tiredness and lies flat. The foam pad on the bench seat is certainly softer than the picnic table. She wonders how Tolly can still be going – she is exhausted. Looking up at the stars, she thinks about home. Not London, where the ever-present streetlights make it impossible to see the heavens, but her family home across the other side of the world. She imagines her father and mother and Eleanor and the twins looking up at the very same stars.
Then Tolly’s hand is on her shoulder. Her eyes open. Sense returns quickly. “Are we at Two Harbours?” she asks.
“LA.”
“But the kayak?”
“We offloaded it. You slept through it all.”
“Oh.”
She stands. Marco is waiting by the boat platform, ready to help her step on to the quay.
She looks at him. She wonders if he is Hispanic and decides to risk it. “Gracias,” she says. His eyebrows shoot to his hair.
“De nada,” he responds and his face creases up with humour. Anna can’t help but feelsheis the joke.
