Page 35 of Shipwrecked

Mathieu hands it to me, flashing a dimpled grin. I stare at him.

“Pillow next,” he says.

Mathieu leaves before I can say a word. I study every inch of the quartz, listening to the fire crackling and Mary working, talking softly with Charles. I’ve always loved her relationship with Charles. How nice they are to each other.

As I run over everything Mathieu said, a knot of guilt forms in my stomach. Mathieu noticed I purposefully kept my distance from him. He worried it was because of his personality. He has a wonderful personality. The last year of college would have been incredible had Mathieu and I grown closer right at the start.

But for that to happen, I would have had to break up with Darren earlier. A killer trade. Having a friend who likes the way I plan things out instead of thinking it’s controlling would have been nice.

It could still be nice. Just because college is over doesn’t mean Mathieu and I have to lose contact.

I slide the quartz over my head. The stone sits warmly over my breastbone.

◆◆◆

That night, Mathieu tells us about his grandparents. They have a small vineyard in the south of France, and he visits them every summer to help tend the farm. He invites me to visit and reaches over to pat Cillian’s side.

“You too. They’ll appreciate having someone to do all the heavy lifting.”

Mathieu and I laugh. I don’t feel guilty because Cillian won’t let me lift anything heavier than my own two hands. He’s got some freaky sixth sense and knows when I’m about to try.

“I like horses,” Mathieu adds, as we’re about to drift off to sleep. “And libraries. I’m trying to figure out a job that combines the two.”

There’s no rescue the next day.

◆◆◆

That night, Cillian tells us about all the courses he’s done. Skiing, mountain climbing, sailing, kayaking—every single outdoor activity you can think of, basically. He works at an adventure centre in Wicklow for half the year, and skills up during the off-season.

“I like spending my money on experiences and certificates,” Cillian explains.

“And tattoos,” I say.

“And tattoos,” he agrees. “Can’t take those from me either.”

Mathieu and I agree that he’s the “cool” instructor. I privately guess that everyone who sets foot in Wicklow Adventure Centre has a crush on him.

◆◆◆

The next night I tell them about all the jobs I worked growing up. Cafés, pubs, restaurants, hotels, bike shops, gardening centres, and even a florist.

“My favourite was at a rec centre. We’d get in huge groups—birthday parties, hens and stags, office bonding trips—every single day. It was chaotic at first, but once I was trained in all the stations, I got to help the manager with organising everything. Once I was doing that, I loved going in every day. I only left the place because I had to move for university.”

Darren would have rolled his eyes if I told him that.

Mathieu makes a happy sort of noise. “Suits you,” he says.

“You’d be good at that,” Cillian agrees.

If they’re curious about why I had so many jobs, they don’t let on. Once I turned fourteen, the government seemed to struggle to find me a permanent place to stay. Workplaces were more stable than ever-changing residences. I preferred that.

◆◆◆

“It’s been a week,” someone says.

There’s been no sight or sound of boat, plane or people. Seán’s face tightens every time someone mentions the lack of rescue, and I try not to repeat the obvious too. I focus on other things.

I wait for Cillian at the edge of camp, eager to be off. He’s finally given me permission to do a water run with him. I think because he’s sick of me complaining about being left out. We’re sleeping in the same lean-to, so I have full access to him for said complaining at night. The fact that my neck has improved a huge amount likely helped my argument.