If she stayed on the island.
After what’d happened the night before, she wasn’t sure what to do. Maybe Sean hadn’t set the fire. But if he had, what then? She couldn’t stay on Coral Island if it meant Sean was a threat to her friends’ lives and businesses. He’d possibly burned Bea and Evie’s businesses to the ground, and if he was capable of that, what else might he do?
Her mobile phone dinged. She looked to see a message from Bea. Another one. There were a dozen messages that’d arrived throughout the day, people wanting her to call them back, offering support and encouragement. But she couldn’t read them or reply. All she felt was guilt and shame.
This was her fault. She should’ve given Sean the jewellery, or at least reported him to the police. Something to get him off Coral Island. Perhaps she should’ve left the island the first moment she spotted him in the street outside the café. But she hadn’t, and now the café was gone, along with Evie’s beautiful little bookshop. The place she’d felt most safe and alive here on the island. The one group of people who’d welcomed her into their lives and given her a reason to hope that the future might be better than her past.
Her phone buzzed again. She shoved it beneath her pillow and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her hair was matted against her back, her entire body sticky with sweat. She shuffled to the shower and left the water on cold, enjoying the feel of it as it washed her clean again.
With her hair still wet, she dressed quickly and grabbed her camera and a big floppy hat with oversized sunglasses. Maybe she could slip down to the shoreline to take some photographs without being recognised. She had to get out of the flat, but she didn’t want to talk to anyone. She had a lot of thinking to do, and in order to make a rational decision, she should clear her head and take a break from the manic spiral going on in her brain. The idea that her presence had caused so much pain to people she’d begun to care about was more than she could handle. It was causing a physical pain in her throat, chest and gut that made her want to cry.
She plodded downstairs to find her bike. Watson was still out. He preferred to be outdoors when it was disgustingly hot. He’d come back home in the evening looking for his dinner and would curl his tail around her leg, purring, until she fixed it for him.
Once she was on her bike, everything began to look better. The world flew by with a few quick pumps of her legs. The sun had begun to drift towards the ocean and the oppressive heat of the day had waned, even if it hadn’t shifted inside her flat yet. Seagulls squawked overhead as a pair of pelicans glided towards the dock.
She spent half an hour moving around the dock, photographing the pelicans as they followed fishermen and snapped up fish guts with their enormous beaks. She took pictures of the seagulls diving and squawking as they fought for any remnants, and of the boats as they idled to shore. A pod of dolphins cruised by, sliding through the azure water and playing in the golden light of the setting sun.
“Hi, Chaz,” said a small, sweet voice.
Charmaine spun around to find Samantha, Betsy’s granddaughter, standing before her in a swimsuit. Her brown hair was wet, and her face had a reddish glow. She held two handfuls of sand up over the beach and was letting the watery substance dribble through her fingers. She’d built a wet sandcastle with dribbles for each pillar, and a large moat that she’d dug around the entire structure and filled with water.
“Hi, Sam. What are you doing there?”
“I’m making the best fortress you’ve ever seen.”
“You certainly are.” Charmaine squatted beside the castle and snapped Sam’s photo.
“Can I see?”
“Sure.” Charmaine showed Sam the picture. She promptly continued building her fortress.
“Are you here by yourself?”
“Dad’s over there.” She pointed to where her father leaned against a pole, a phone stuck to his ear. He waved to her, then shoved the phone into his pocket and walked over to greet her.
“Hi, Chaz.”
“Hello, Frank. It’s a nice evening to be at the beach.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. I guess. Listen, is Mum at the shop?”
“Yes, I think so. I wasn’t at work today.”
“Are you sick?”
“Something like that. I was in town last night…”
“The fire? Yeah, I saw it. Drove past the spot this morning on my way to work. So sad. But I’m glad it didn’t spread any further than it did.”
She nodded mutely, her throat aching.
“Are you okay?”
“I feel a bit off, but I’m fine otherwise. I’m more worried about Bea and Evie.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and pretended she was swatting for flies.
“I wonder what they’ll do now,” he mused. “I’m going to stop in and see Mum on the way home. Thought she might like to come for dinner.”
Charmaine raised a hand over her eyes to cut the afternoon glare. “I think it’s good you’re making an effort to mend fences.”
