Page 88 of The House Swap

He hadn’t used the anchor?

Poppy thought back, realising she had never seen him put it down.

‘The sea moves, so that means the boat does too.’

He spoke like he was trying to explain it to a six-year-old.

‘You could have helped me,’ she insisted, even as her face burned.

‘And come after you for drifting a few metres?’ He gave a small shake of his head, as if she had suggested something ridiculous. ‘You were swimming fine.’

She had been so certain he had moved the boat on purpose. But he was right. There was no way he could have done without her hearing the engine.

Yet again, her own fear had directed the narrative.

Still shaking, she wandered over to the front of the boat, lowering herself onto the bench seat. As she pulled her towel tighter around her shoulders, salt water trickled down her legs, pooling on the deck beneath her feet.

Out here, with only the sea around them and Martin moving quietly about the deck, it was impossible to decide what the worst part was.

Had she just imagined the threat or had something far worse just revealed itself?

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They didn’t speak on the ride back inland, and Poppy stayed focused on the approaching shoreline, eager to get off the boat.

Eventually, they were back in the harbour, Martin pulling up alongside the jetty and cutting the engine. It left a hollow ringing in her ears.

‘We’re back,’ Martin announced, stating the obvious.

She nodded, though didn’t move straight away, watching him step out of the boat with practised ease, working quickly and efficiently as he looped the rope around the mooring post. The water lapped gently against the hull, a soft repetitive sound that should have been calming. Instead, it only unsettled her.

‘Come on,’ he said impatiently, as soon as he was finished. He was acting so nonchalant that again she began to wonder if she had misread what had happened.

Poppy stood, her legs unsteady beneath her as she made her way to the edge of the deck.

‘Careful. It’ll move.’

‘I know,’ she said, a little huffily.

She refused to take his offered hand this time. Instead, she timed the slight rise of the boat and stepped across by herself, landing a little too hard on the wooden boards of the jetty. The impact jarred through the shoulder she had hit, and she winced.

Martin noticed immediately. ‘You’ve done something to your shoulder.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘Probably gonna get a nasty bruise.’

‘I said it’s fine.’

The sharpness in her voice hung between them for a moment, and she hated how brittle she sounded, but she couldn’t help feel angry towards him. Perhaps if he hadn’t left her in the water, seconds away from having a full-blown panic attack, she wouldn’t have bashed her shoulder on the hull of the boat.

It was a little late to pretend he cared.

‘I need to get back.’

Martin studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he gave a small nod.

‘I can drive you,’ he said. ‘Save you the walk.’