The Three Day Rule

by Emlyn Rees

  It wasn’t long before Kellie realised that Ben really wasn’t joking, despite being so calm about it. She looked on anxiously, passing him tools as he tried to repair the propeller, but after what seemed like ages, the engine still wouldn’t work. They were slowly drifting as the tide began to suck them out.

  Finally, he turned round to face her. He grimaced apologetically.

  ‘It’s even worse than I feared,’ he said. ‘It’s totallyutterlyfuckedup. Or utterlytotally. I can never remember which.’

  ‘You mean you can’t fix it?’ Kellie asked. Despite his attempt to humour her, she was worried now. She wrapped her arms around herself.

  ‘Probably, but not here. We’ll have to go ashore.’ She hadn’t noticed before how green his eyes were.

  Ben turned the keys in the ignition one last time, but the engine still wouldn’t start. Kellie shivered, holding out her hand as fatter snowflakes started to fall. The wind was picking up, too.

  ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘It’s getting worse.’

  ‘And a blizzard? Great!’ Ben said. He stared up at the sky. ‘How about a plague of locusts, too?’ he asked. ‘Or maybe a localised typhoon, just for us, to keep us on our toes? I’m turning out to be a fabulous tour guide, aren’t I?’

  Kellie laughed. ‘It’s OK. What shall I do to help?’

  ‘Grab an oar. We’ll have to row in. Let’s head for that cove over there.’

  Kellie had worked up a real sweat by the time they reached the shore. She was used to the rowing machine in the high tech gym in the basement of their office building, but the real thing was much more difficult in these weather conditions. It was hard keeping in time with Ben and she kept getting it wrong. It didn’t help that every time she made a mistake, he made her laugh. The whole situation seemed so bizarre. It was surreal to be in a boat in the snow.

  By the time the bottom of the RIB crunched against the sandy shore, the snow was settling.

  ‘I’m going out, Captain Scott,’ Ben said, ‘and I may be some time.’

  He jumped down into the shallow water.

  ‘Wait for me,’ she said, leaning forward and letting him lift her out.

  She could see now that the cove was bigger than it had looked from the water. Kellie imagined that the small beach here must be incredible in the summer, but on a bleak winter’s day, Ben was right, it did seem like they were Arctic explorers. At the back an old ramp led up to a fisherman’s wooden shed. Set high in the cliffs above, the great black eye of a cave looked down upon them.

  Ben lifted the beer barrel out of the boat. He winked at her. ‘Just off for a quick pint,’ he said, before trotting up the beach, rolling the barrel before him as he went.

  He was back in a moment and she hauled on the plastic handle at the front left side of the boat, as Ben went to the other side, and they began to drag the RIB up the slope of the beach towards the fisherman’s ramp.

  By the time they got there, Kellie was exhausted.

  ‘Well done,’ Ben said, clapping her on the back. ‘Nothing like a nice afternoon workout.’

  ‘Maybe you should consider a career change,’ she suggested. ‘Personal trainer instead of tour guide. Move down to London and you could make a fortune.’

  ‘Maybe I will,’ he laughed, dragging the boat the last few metres on his own, right to the top of the ramp. ‘We’re safe here,’ he said. ‘The tide doesn’t come up this high.’ He tried to beat off snowflakes which swarmed around them like bees. ‘Not that the tide’s exactly our number one worry right now,’ he added.

  He reached in and pulled a tarpaulin out of the boat.

  ‘I’m so sorry about this,’ he said. ‘I normally leave the old kidnapping the maiden and taking her to my icy hideaway routine to the other guys . . .’

  ‘Like Frankenstein . . .’

  ‘Hey,’ he said, feigning offence, ‘just because I haven’t shaved . . .’

  ‘I meant the film . . .’

  ‘With Robert De Niro . . .’

  ‘Of the book . . .’ she said.

  ‘By Mary Shelley . . .’

  She found herself staring into his eyes, remembering the similar conversation they’d had about Meryl Streep back in Fleet Town. For a guy who worked boats in a remote corner of England, he was surprisingly easy to talk to, and he sure knew a hell of a lot about books and films. Why was it so easy to share banter like this with him? Elliot hardly ever got any of her cultural references. He was much more interested in fancy restaurants and fine wine.

  ‘We must stop doing this,’ she said, half meaning it.

  He smiled. ‘You’re right. We should confine ourselves to statements of fact instead.’

  She waved her hand at the snowflakes spiralling from the sky. ‘Like remarking on the weather,’ she joked.

  ‘Exactly.’ He paused. ‘Fucking freezing.’

  ‘I’d say that was a fairly accurate statement of fact.’

  ‘I mean it. You should get in the hut, or you’ll get frozen.’

  But Kellie stayed to help him. She felt they were in this together. Just before they covered the final part of the boat, Ben reached inside for the thermos flask his mother had given him.

  ‘I thought it’s always supposed to be sunny here?’ she said, as Ben joined her at the door of the fisherman’s hut.

  He said, ‘Looks like the rules just changed,’ and with that they stepped inside.

  It was a plain wooden shelter, with a tiny window, and a couple of old nets rolled up and attached to the ceiling. The floor was just the rock on which the hut had been built. It didn’t look like anyone had been here for years, but at least there was a bench. Kellie sat down and rubbed her hands together, before pressing them between her knees. She was freezing. She looked at her feet; her new leather boots were sodden with salty water. She stretched out her legs and flexed her toes.

  ‘Looks like that’ll be two hundred quid’s worth of Russell and Bromley boots ruined,’ he said. ‘Who didn’t get the protective spray from the assistant, then?’

  She laughed, surprised that he even knew the name, let alone that he’d rumbled her about the leather spray. ‘How on earth do you know that?’

  ‘I knew a woman once who was into that kind of thing.’ There was something disparaging in his voice, but she wasn’t sure if it was because he was thinking about the woman, or the cost of the boots. ‘And you’ve still got the label on the bottom,’ he added.

  She smiled, feeling herself blush. She hadn’t met someone who could tease her like this for years.

  ‘So. What now?’ she asked.

  ‘We wait, for the snow shower to pass. I thought it wouldn’t settle until later,’ Ben said, pulling the door closed.

  ‘You mean you knew it was going to snow?’

  ‘Sure, but I thought we’d be back by the time it started.’

  Kellie suddenly felt unsure about this whole situation. It seemed to have got much more out of hand than she’d realised. Her decision to come with Ben had been impulsive, but she’d assumed that she was going to see the island from the boat and then go back to the hotel, before there was any chance that she’d cross Elliot’s path. Now that they were land-bound by the snow, suddenly things looked a bit more serious.

  ‘And then what? After the snow passes. Assuming it actually does. How are we going to get back to St John’s?’

  ‘I’ll sort out the boat, and if I can’t, then there are other people here on Brayner who can help. It’ll be fine.’

  Here on Brayner. Other people. The phrase rang like an alarm bell in her head. Here on Brayner was exactly where she wasn’t meant to be, and there was a chance that those ‘other people’ were exactly the people she couldn’t risk meeting.

  ‘Aren’t you worried?’ she asked, sounding more stern than she meant to. ‘I mean, this is quite serious, isn’t it?’

  ‘Hey! There’s no point in getting uptight.’ He smiled at her and there was something infectious about it that made her relax a little. Kellie wondered wh
ether he was always so confident and calm in a crisis. He crouched down on his haunches, unscrewed the lid of the thermos flask and poured a cupful of hot chocolate.

  ‘This will warm you up,’ he said, handing it to her.

  ‘Thanks.’

  She took a sip, feeling awkward. She hadn’t been alone like this with a man other than Elliot for as long as she could remember.

  ‘So,’ Ben asked. ‘What made you change your mind?’

  Kellie shivered, taking another sip of the sweet warm chocolate. ‘About what?’

  ‘About coming out here to Brayner with me? Don’t tell me it was the offer of Marmite sandwiches that swung it?’ Ben set about unwrapping the tin-foil package.

  ‘No way, I hate the stuff.’

  ‘Of course. You’re an Aussie and if you’re like all the Aussies I met over there, then Vegemite’s probably more your thing? Brand loyalty, right? You wouldn’t be seen dead eating any of this Pommie excrement.’

  ‘You’ve been to Australia?’ she asked, laughing at the dreadful Aussie accent he’d just attempted.

  ‘Yeah. I went there on my honeymoon. On a diving holiday. Cairns.’

  So he was married. Kellie felt a momentary and quite ridiculous flicker of disappointment. She looked at Ben, imagining him in a wet suit and how graceful he would probably be below the waves. She couldn’t imagine what his wife must look like. Was it she, she wondered, who was into the shoes? She noticed, as he offered her the mound of unwrapped sandwiches, that he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. He obviously wasn’t the type.

  ‘Seriously. No thanks.’

  Ben smiled. ‘Do you dive?’

  ‘Of course. I used to love it. I was brought up near Manly beach in Sydney. I’m a typical Cancerian. I love the water. I was a swimmer for ages. I got on to the Sydney junior team.’ She wanted to tell him more, to relive her sun-filled days back at home, but she was too intrigued about his wife. ‘Do you and your wife still go diving?’

  ‘I’m afraid we don’t do much of anything any more.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘We’re divorced.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Yeah, well, shit happens.’

  Kellie didn’t push more for details. She didn’t want to pry, but she couldn’t help wondering how it must be for Ben living on an island like St John’s. She wondered whether his wife was still nearby, whether they still saw each other around, and how he felt about getting divorced when he so clearly had all the rest of his life ahead of him. Looking at him now, she found it hard to believe that he was the one who had done anything wrong. Somehow, he seemed too honest and straightforward.

  But what was she thinking? She couldn’t judge him on a situation she knew nothing about. In fact, she shouldn’t really judge him at all. After all, very soon she’d be officially with a divorced man herself. Suddenly, she had an inkling of all the prejudice that Elliot being divorced might bring. Would people automatically assume that she and Elliot had loads of baggage, that their relationship was more complicated and therefore somehow less likely to succeed?

  Elliot. She reached into her pocket and pulled out her mobile phone, handing the chocolate back to Ben, so that he could have his turn with the cup. If she could only get through to him on his mobile, maybe he’d be able to come and rescue them.

  ‘Why don’t I just see if I can call someone –’ she started to say.

  ‘Forget it. You’ll never get a signal in this,’ Ben said. Brayner’s got terrible coverage, even in good conditions. Anyway, who would you call? Thunderbirds?’

  She didn’t have the courage to admit that she wanted to contact Elliot. ‘What about air sea rescue?’

  ‘Believe me, they’ll have more important things to do than worry about us.’ Ben nodded in the direction of the sea. ‘We’re not out there. That’s the main thing. And I don’t think the helicopters can even fly in this, particularly if the wind keeps picking up.’

  Kellie’s cheeks burned as she put her phone back in her pocket. If there was no coverage, that would explain why she hadn’t heard from Elliot, and it didn’t seem likely now that she would. But even if she had been able to get a signal, it was a crazy idea to even attempt to contact him. Elliot would be furious if he discovered that she was here, and he’d be right. She’d been stupid. She should never have come.

  ‘Do you go home much?’ Ben asked, unaware of her racing mind. ‘To Australia?’

  She had to focus. She must put Elliot out of her mind and trust that Ben would get her back to safety, without Elliot even suspecting that she’d been here.

  ‘No. I live in London now. What about you? Were you born on St John’s?’

  ‘Born there, grew up there, same with my parents and grandparents. We even lived here for a bit on Brayner when I was younger. My dad used to run the boatyard, but then he took over the boat taxi business on St John’s. I think my mum still misses being here.’

  Kellie thought back to the friendly woman she’d met on the quayside and how drawn to her she’d felt. It was the same with Ben – as if she had connected with him straight away. Did this happen to other people, she wondered. Was it normal to meet a complete stranger and banter with them, as if they were an old friend?

  ‘She’s lovely. Your mum.’

  ‘Yeah? You think so?’

  ‘I wish my mum would bring me sandwiches to work every day.’

  Ben looked embarrassed. ‘She doesn’t . . . not every day –’

  ‘I’m just teasing.’

  ‘OK,’ he said, smiling. ‘So what about you? What do you do?’

  ‘I’m a lawyer.’

  ‘That’s cool.’

  ‘Most of the time. But I don’t know . . . being here . . .’

  She paused. What the hell, she thought. She might as well tell him a little bit about herself. She had nothing to lose. After all, Ben had nothing to do with her life and in a few hours’ time, once they’d sorted out the boat and returned to St John’s, she probably wouldn’t ever see him again.

  ‘I haven’t really stopped work for months,’ she admitted. ‘To tell you the truth, I haven’t even really been outside for months. When you get away from it all, from London, the rat race . . . you realise . . . well, sometimes I wish my life could be more simple.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘I don’t know. You seem to have a good life. I mean, people like you . . .’ She didn’t want to sound patronising, but she couldn’t help admiring Ben’s uncomplicated way of life, even though he had got them into this scrape. ‘You get to do all the simple things, like go and hang out with seals for the hell of it. I wish I could be more –’

  ‘Engaged with nature?’ he asked, and she knew that she’d sounded patronising after all. There was a trace of annoyance in his voice. ‘Living a yokel’s life, like me?’

  ‘I didn’t mean to offend you,’ she said, meaning it. Actually, she was rather shocked that she’d been so honest. She wouldn’t dare admit to Elliot that her career wasn’t the most important thing to her. Maybe it was seeing Ben with his mother, their close family bond, that had made her suddenly homesick, as well as worried for her own future. What kind of mother would she make? she wondered. Then it occurred to her once more, would she ever get to be a mother at all?

  He grinned and raised his eyebrows at her.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘you’re teasing me.’

  ‘What you said about hanging out with seals . . . you could always get a season ticket to London Zoo.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll bear that in mind.’

  ‘So,’ he then said, ‘what is a girl like you doing out here on her own on the islands at Christmas?’

  ‘Mostly thinking.’

  ‘I see.’ She wondered whether he was going to press her for details, but instead he seemed to respect the fact that maybe the time wasn’t right. ‘More hot chocolate?’ he asked.

  She watched as he poured some into the cup for her. What would he think about her, she wondered, if he knew the
real reason she’d come to the islands for Christmas? Why had she chickened out of telling him about Elliot when she’d had the chance?

  Ben stood up. ‘I think I’ll try and sort us out with a fire. Then I’ll have another crack at the engine,’ he said.

  Kellie nodded, but didn’t look at him as he left the hut.

  Chapter 7

  Michael was lying sprawled on a seat in the bay window of the Thornes’ sitting room when he heard the front door slam. Outside, the snow danced thick and fast, so that each of the square lead-beaded panes of glass in the windows looked like a TV with the aerial pulled out.

  Looking up from the Nintendo DS’s split-screen, Michael listened to the footsteps in the hall and fleetingly wondered if it was his mother, come to pick him up and take him back home, but almost as quickly dismissed the thought from his mind.

  His mother hated the cold. She kept the pub as hot as a snake house all year round and nothing short of mortal danger would convince her to come out in this. And she knew Michael was safe. Taylor’s grandfather had already called her on the radiotelephone, which the islanders used to communicate with one another, to let her know that he was here.

  Taylor was lying a few feet away from Michael, stretched out like a cat on the red Indian rug in front of the crackling, flickering fire. She was silent, listening to her iPod, and idly flicking through a back issue of heat.

  She’d taken off her jacket and jumper when they’d got back here from the mine. She was wearing a tight, V-neck white top and a grey coral necklace at her throat. Her bra showed through the top’s thin material, clearly outlining the shape of her breasts.

  Michael thought her tits were pretty much perfect. Not too small, but not too big either. Not too round, but not too pointy. There were some girls at his school whose tits all the boys covertly, and sometimes overtly, discussed and admired. If Taylor had been at Michael’s school, he figured that she’d have been one of those girls. People would have pointed her out as she’d run round the athletics track, or nudged each other discreetly in the ribs as she’d hung out in the schoolyard at break, or simply gazed as she’d queued up alongside them in the refectory for pizza and chips.