Island Skye

by Fox Brison

  Tommy was standing in his boat waiting patiently. He’d just returned with a few visitors, and judging by the clouds he’d be doing no more runs to Hobthrush today. “Are ye sure you want to do this, Skye? The weather’s turning.”

  “I’m only going over for an hour, two tops. Andy’s coming for me when he finishes work. I know you need to get off quick, I really appreciate you doing this, Tommy.”

  “Nae worries, Skye. I hope you’re not feeling sea sick, she’s a bit rough the day.” And she was. Grey and anxious.

  “I never get seasick-”

  “Not like that lass of yours!” he guffawed.

  “She’s no longer mine,” I murmured and wondered if she ever really had been.

  We eventually reached the island and after Tommy disappeared into the mist, I did a quick circuit watching the stormy waves angrily attacking the rocks that skirted the islet. I was mesmerised by the clouds staining the sky, the billowing wind making the gulls swirl and dance like they were contestants on Strictly Come Dancing. Opening my notebook, my mind finally free, the words flowed like water down a steep cliff. Even for someone like me who relished solitude, it was horrendously lonely. I shuddered at the thought of being here for longer, of suffering the violence thrust upon this tiny piece of granite with no thought of leaving, with only the wind and the sea for company. I lost myself in meditation, the hypnotic rhythm of the tempest swaying my mind to the past.

  My parents. My brothers. The people who made my life hell at school.

  My parents. My brothers. The people who made my life hell at school.

  I began to write again but this time it was about my family, how they made me doubt myself, hate myself. Next up I wrote a short poem about the mean girls at school, how they ruled with a tongue of poison and cruised the corridors, harpies and sirens of mythological proportions.

  Bugger.

  I could have slapped myself. I allowed that to happen, I had allowed how they made me feel as a teenager influence my life even now. I looked up from the damp notebook. All that was going to change. I had nothing left to fear – apart from fear itself.

  Today was as good a day as any to reclaim my past.

  ***

  “Shit!” I cursed and quickly shoved my book into my rucksack. Not only had it started to rain, but I’d switched off. Again. “Where the hell are you, Andy?” I muttered. It was well past the time he was due and I double checked my watch. Honestly, I’m not usually so absent minded but something about being on the island relieved me of the responsibility of being, well, me. I reached into my pocket for my phone to call him, which was…

  … on the kitchen counter. I kicked a stone. There was no shelter on Hobthrush, so I was basically stuffed until the morning.

  Natalie.

  I groaned. Would she think I’d stood her up? I hoped not. She was the only chance I had of getting off this island tonight. If she went to the cottage to look for me and I wasn’t there, she might put two and two together and call Andy to find out what had happened.

  Hopefully.

  There was a lot of hopefullys in there and a few buts and maybes thrown in for good measure. Let’s face it, I was screwed. Why would she bother? I’d hardly been gracious and charming during my interactions with her. I sat in the lee of the rocks where Cuthbert had once made his home, and settled in for a wet evening – and not the good kind of wet I was planning for either. Despite it being June and allegedly summer, the night crept in quickly and soon it was pitch black, neither moon nor stars out to illuminate my predicament. I pulled my knees tight up to my chest, desperate to stave off the cold which was beginning to permeate through my clothes and into my bones.

  Hypothermia hadn’t even crossed my mind, which was a testament to how awful I felt about letting Natalie down. Yeah. It was on my mind now though.

  Fuck.

  Chapter 15

  Skye

  “Okay sleepyhead,” Natalie’s voice instantly cocooned me in warmth; I adore dreaming about her. But thankfully for my sake, this was no dream. “Up and at ‘em.” She put her hands under my arms and helped me to my feet. I stumbled forward but she held me tight, and I grabbed onto her waist, burying my head in her shoulder. I couldn’t feel my feet. Nor my hands. But I felt her. Dear god how I felt her. She guided me down to Tommy’s boat, and then swaddled me in a thick woolen blanket. Soon we were on the way back to the main island, the rain easing, but the wind pitiless in its attempt to take the skin off my nose. Natalie didn’t say a word, although I felt the tension in her arms as she lifted me out of the boat and carried me up the shore. I was glad. There’s no way I could have walked.

  But boys alive, I could get used to this.

  Not the life threatening danger thing, but the being held in her arms thing. “I didn’t forget our date,” I whispered, “I promise.”

  “Good,” she whispered back and kissed my lips, softly, gently. I shivered, but this time it wasn’t from the mind numbing cold.

  Okay, so maybe hypothermia was beginning to set in.

  I shook uncontrollably and I felt her pace quicken in response, yet I never felt in any danger, I felt nothing but safe. The door to the cottage was thrust open and light streamed into the dark night. Natalie brushed by Sara and took me straight into the bathroom where the shower was already running. I tried to take my jacket off, but seriously, my fingers may as well have been Kit Kats – in fact I might have had more control over them if they were. Natalie swiftly pulled the zip down. “Nat,” I heard Sara’s voice call softly from the doorway.

  “I’ve got this, sis,” Natalie interrupted. “You put the leccy blanket on? Good. Heat up the soup Mam sent.” I was surprised Sara didn’t argue at the barked instructions, she normally didn’t take well to being ordered about, and certainly not by her little sister. “I’m so angry with you right now, Skye, I don’t think I can even speak.” Natalie continued undressing me.

  “I’m sorry.” I was. I didn’t know why she was angry, it wasn’t exactly my fault I got stranded. And it made me sad that I had this effect on her. Natalie was generally such a happy camper, she just brightened everyone’s day.

  “Just shut up,” she said and kissed me again. Only this time it was different. This time it was bruising, possessive, an angry kiss that had me moaning into her embrace. Stepping back she held me at arm’s length. “Can you stand?”

  “After that?” I may have been heading towards the light, but at least I retained my humour.

  “Skye,” I heard the warning growl. Shit, she had been really worried.

  Hang on a minute. Aww. She’d been really worried.

  “Let me sit on the edge of the bath, I’ll be able to finish undressing myself.” Natalie arched two perfect eyebrows. “Okay, I might need a little help with the buttons,” eyebrows arched higher, “and maybe my boots,” her eyebrows completely disappeared into her fringe, “just undress me, Natalie,” I smiled up at her, “and I honestly didn’t think that the first time those words came out of my mouth we’d be in my bathroom with your sister hovering by the door.” Natalie turned and grinned at Sara.

  “Fine!” Sara stomped off to the kitchen and Natalie efficiently disrobed me. She’d obviously had some practice in the art of removing a woman’s clothes, she boasted serious skills. And speed. As she unfastened my bra I saw hunger in her eyes and felt the hunger in her touch as she trailed her fingers down my arms. I wanted her to jump in the shower with me, to warm me with her kisses and touches. I physically ached with longing. At that precise moment I couldn’t have cared less about any ramifications our relationship might bring. I would have sold my soul to have her inside me.

  I wasn’t the only one overcome.

  “I’m going to help Sara,” Natalie said as she turned on her heel and I slumped against the side of the shower.

  I don’t think my heart could take any more of these moments.

  ***

  When I eventually made it out of the shower I was grateful to find Sara had placed my
pajamas and fleecy robe neatly on the bed. I dried myself, rubbing vigorously to increase blood flow and warm my body. There was no sound coming from the front room, and I wondered if Natalie and Sara had left me to my own devices. I didn’t know how I felt about that.

  “Soup’s ready,” Natalie said, “and Sara’s gone home. She told me to tell you she’d see you in the morning.” She was leaning against the door jam, her head tilted. She looked pensive, thoughtful, like she was reaching a major life decision.

  Was I the major life decision?

  “Okay. Is it your Mam’s soup?” I asked, more to make conversation than anything. Natalie was closed off and I didn’t know what to do about it.

  “Aye, it’ll warm you up.” Her plain speaking and simple answers were starting to scare me.

  “I’m feeling one hundred and ten percent better. If you give me a minute, we can still go out for that drink.” Please. Please don’t let me have ruined this.

  “Maybe another time.” She left the room and I bit my bottom lip. Not through nerves, but through trying, and failing, to stop myself from crying. I didn’t notice Natalie returning until I felt the mattress wobble when she sat next to me. She put her arm around my shoulders and I leant into her, even though I had no right to seek comfort from her. “Hey there, c’mon, the soup isn’t that bad.”

  “No,” I hiccoughed. “I’ve messed up big time, haven’t I?”

  “No,” there were her hands raking through her hair again. “You gave me a fright, Skye. When I found you, I thought…” she hesitated. “For a second I thought you were dead. That… that I’d lost you. I never dreamed I’d have you in my life, not like this. And to have lost you before I had the chance to-”

  I shut her up with a kiss. “I’m not dead. I’m alive and well and a total idiot. I should have checked with Andy, made sure he was still okay to collect me.”

  “He remembered. He tried to call you to tell you he was stuck in traffic. When he didn’t get any answer, he called Sara. You’re only an idiot for forgetting your phone.”

  “I forget on purpose most days. I hate my phone.” I sounded like a petulant child and tried to shake myself out of my ill-humour. “I’m also an idiot for the way I’ve handled things so far. Natalie, I’m a relationship psycho, you need to give me time to come to grips with this, this,” I waved my hand between us, “whatever this is might become. Much as I would love to push you back onto the bed, strip you naked and have my way with you,” she shifted her body. I affected her! Maybe she wasn’t out of my league after all. “I can’t rush into anything with you, you are way too important and I have way too much baggage. Christ, Heathrow lost luggage has nothing on the amount of baggage I carry around. It wouldn’t be fair on you.”

  “I have baggage too,” Natalie insisted and I laughed. She frowned at my response. “You’d be surprised, Skye.”

  “I would, which is why we need to go slow, take our time, get to know each other properly. If this is worth anything-”

  “It is,” she interrupted forcefully. The sincerity in her eyes gave me larger goosebumps than any I’d gotten sleeping on an exposed rock in the middle of the North Sea.

  “Then it is worth taking our time over. I want to know what you favourite film is,”

  “A toss-up between Castaway and The Perfect Storm,” she said smiling.

  I chuckled. “And your favourite song?”

  “Singing in the Rain.”

  “Right, now I know you’re taking the piss! Maybe drinks tonight are off, but can I interest you in dinner?” I asked with a sparkle.

  “Courtesy of my Mam?”

  “Of course, I would never try to top your Mam’s chicken soup.”

  “Would you try to top me?”

  I loved how the tone of Natalie’s voice changed and her eyes darkened, but I was serious about going slow. “See?” I nudged her shoulder, laughing. “This is what I mean, Jeffries. This is so not taking our time.”

  “Oh I’m sure you could take your time,” she took my hand, entwined our fingers, pulled me to my feet and whispered in my ear, “we could take all the time in the world, I have incredible stamina.”

  “Gutter, Jeffries,” I barely managed to find enough air in my lungs to say the words. “Do you kiss your Mam with that mouth?”

  “No, I keep my mouth for much more interesting pursuits,” she said before kissing my hand and heading toward the kitchen.

  I no longer needed soup to warm me up, her words and hell, that gaze, were doing fine all by themselves.

  Natalie poured two glasses of wine and ladled the thick creamy soup into my favourite bowls. Yes I had brought them from Durham, you never know where the ones in a holiday cottage have been.

  Anal. Yes I know. Get over it.

  The thick chunks of crusty bread she tore from a still warm loaf finished off the perfect light supper, even if it was stolen from her mother. We chatted companionably about movies, music and books, finding some we both liked, others we didn’t particularly care for and a few that only one of us preferred. And that was okay. I would watch horror movies from behind a cushion every night of the week if it meant Natalie would be sitting next to me on the sofa wrapped in a soft wool blanket holding my hand.

  And I'm sure she would join me in a Disney marathon with suitable persuasion.

  I sipped my wine and looked over the rim of the glass as she tidied away the detritus of our dinner. “How about tomorrow?” I was feeling brave.

  “Tomorrow?” she repeated.

  “Yes, tomorrow. You, me, my sofa and a movie marathon. I’ll even cook.”

  “I can’t tomorrow. Rehab.” She was rigid. She mentioned rehab so off-handedly but her body language didn’t lie, something was up. Was it the rehab itself or my reaction to it?

  “Rehab. In?” I kept my tone light.

  “Newcastle.” Okay so we’re back to the short answers again.

  “Want some company?” Wow. Way to go with the taking things slowly, genius, I berated myself. Rehab was such a personal thing,

  “That’d be nice, it’s an important day.”

  “Oh really? Why? Is it like, I don’t know, your three month chip or something?” Okay so my breadth of knowledge about rehab came from watching trashy American cop shows where the main character invariably had an alcohol problem, and of course, Girl, Interrupted. Dear god I hoped it was more the former than the latter.

  “My what?” She turned sharply, patently confused.

  “You know, the three month chip, or six month medal, or whatever you call it. For being sober.”

  “Sober?” Oh-oh. I recognised that look. I was in for some serious piss taking. “Sober? You think I’m a drunk?”

  “Ah… uhm… I don’t… I’m not…” I stuttered whilst my cheeks were a centigrade from spontaneously combusting.

  “Would Sara be inviting me to the pub if I was a drunk?”

  “In my defense you drank orange juice all evening!”

  “Because I was going to rehab the next morning.” She waggled her glass at me. “And if that’s what you thought, why are you constantly plying me with alcohol?”

  Okay so it was official. I was gaining a PhD in stupidity. “I thought Sara might not have known.”

  “You thought I would have shared my deepest secret addiction with my teenage crush and not my sister.”

  “Weellll,” okay it did sound stupid. Wait. “Crush?”

  “That slipped out?”

  “Mhmm.”

  “Ah.”

  “Ah.” I decided to take pity on her. I didn’t want to discourage the divulgence of any other similar little gems in the future. “So, not a drunk. Then why are you going to rehab? Did your daddy tell you and you said no, no, no?” I smiled, letting her know whatever she told me was okay, that we’d be okay. After all, I had just accused her of being a drunk, what could be worse than that?

  “I go to a sports injury clinic.” Natalie took our empty glasses and the bottle of wine in her right hand and to
ok mine in her left. She led me to the sofa before turning down the lights and lighting a couple of large church candles, then hit the play button on the iPod, Carole King started singing about the earth moving.

  She was quiet for a few minutes and I left her to her thoughts, as I began to enjoy mine. Eventually she sighed and gripped my hand even tighter. I hadn’t realised she was still holding it, it fit so perfectly. “I busted up my knee pretty badly, skiing off piste. It’s been kept quiet because they don’t know the full extent of the injury. Plus, well, I shouldn’t have been skiing never mind off piste.”

  “So, what? You might miss the season?” I was really crap at physiology and injuries and all that, but I figured I’d better get the abbreviated notes if I was to be supportive.

  “No, I might be out altogether.” She leant her head back against the sofa and I saw a tear leak out of her closed eyes. “God, I was an idiot.”

  “What have the doctors said so far?” I wiped the tear away and passed over her wine whilst taking an enormous gulp of my own. What if I said the wrong thing? Asked the wrong question? She was clearly hurting, and I wasn’t exactly known for my tact and diplomacy.

  “It’s a waiting game, but I’ll have an MRI tomorrow so they can see how the tissue is healing. It’s the biggest indicator yet whether I’ll be able to start light training, because until they can see how it reacts under some strain, I’m none the wiser.”

  “So, you’ve got this career threatening injury that has stopped you from training and you keep carrying me about like I’m your little joey?” I hit her arm when she nodded. “There’s only room for one moron in this relationship and that position is already taken by me!” This was not the reaction she’d been expecting and she looked shocked.