provided us with, I hear Roxi’s
voice next to me exclaim: ‘Wowie, Darce, you were right about that karma stuff … it doesn’t waste much time, does it?’
Seven
‘You want me to get in
that
?’ I peer hesitantly at the little red motorboat bobbing about below me as it patiently awaits its final passenger.
‘Sure, Darcy, it’ll be fine.’ Niall is already sitting down inside the boat wearing a red cagoule and a bright orange life
jacket that completely swamps him.
The other passenger on the boat stares up at me, a bored expression on his face. ‘Look, is she getting in or not?’ he asks,
turning to Niall.
‘Of course she is. Come on, Darcy,’ Niall says encouragingly, beckoning to me. ‘This is the only way of getting across to
the island right now.’
‘It’s just that I remember the boat being bigger when I was a child.’ I hug my life jacket tightly to my chest. ‘This one
seems so tiny. Are you sure it’s safe to take it across there today? Those waves look awfully big.’
The skipper of the boat, who is patiently waiting to untie itfrom the harbour, smiles at me kindly. ‘I’ve ferried many a boat across to that island in my time, and this one’s quite safe.
Plus,’ he says looking up at the sky, ‘this’ll be a calm day on the water – especially for January.’
I smile at him, grateful for his words of encouragement. He seems awfully young, though; usually the skippers of these boats
are gnarly old men with brown, wrinkled skin and gappy teeth. Maybe we should have got someone with a bit more experience
to take us across. This guy, while cute-looking with his sandy blond hair and bright blue eyes, looks like he’d know more
about handling a modelling contract than a motorboat. Now that I’ve finally agreed to sail across to this island today, I
at least want to be in a boat with someone who looks as if they know what they’re doing.
Yes: fate, karma, or whatever you want to call it has taken a hand in helping to make my visit to the island today a lot easier
to achieve. The new water feature in our flat turned out to be the result of our upstairs neighbour leaving his bath running
while going back to bed and nodding off to sleep again. So while our landlord is arguing with the workmen over quotes and
prices to get everything patched up, Roxi and I have decided that temporarily vacating our flat is preferable to trying to
avoid glancing upwards and spotting parts of Mr Jenkinson that we really don’t want to see as he wanders about his flat in
just his dressing gown. Roxi is staying in a room over the pub, and I’m kipping on Sophie’s rather uncomfortable sofa. So
my pre-planned weekend spent in a proper bed in an Irish hotel has come as quite a welcome bonus.
‘Right, I’m getting out if she’s not getting in,’ Niall’s boatingcompanion says, standing up inside the boat so that it rocks enough for Niall to need to hold on to the side.
‘No, don’t do that! I’m coming, really. I just need to change my shoes.’
Reaching down, I pull off my favourite pair of flat pumps and take a pair of UGG boots from my rucksack.
‘Why is she putting on slippers?’ I hear him ask Niall as he sits back down in the boat again.
‘They’re not slippers,’ I call to him. ‘They’re UGG boots, actually. And they’ll keep my feet nice and warm while we’re over
there.’
‘They might keep you warm, but I doubt they’ll keep you dry,’ the passenger mutters, shaking his head. ‘Have you any idea
of the terrain over on that island?’
‘Look … Miss?’ the boatman interrupts us.
‘Darcy. Just call me Darcy, please.’
‘Conor,’ he says by way of introduction, as a set of perfect white teeth now appear, matching the rest of his faultless façade.
‘Look, Darcy, why don’t the two gentlemen do what they’re supposed to do and actually act like gentlemen by helping you down
into the boat, and then we can be on our way? We
voice next to me exclaim: ‘Wowie, Darce, you were right about that karma stuff … it doesn’t waste much time, does it?’
Seven
‘You want me to get in
that
?’ I peer hesitantly at the little red motorboat bobbing about below me as it patiently awaits its final passenger.
‘Sure, Darcy, it’ll be fine.’ Niall is already sitting down inside the boat wearing a red cagoule and a bright orange life
jacket that completely swamps him.
The other passenger on the boat stares up at me, a bored expression on his face. ‘Look, is she getting in or not?’ he asks,
turning to Niall.
‘Of course she is. Come on, Darcy,’ Niall says encouragingly, beckoning to me. ‘This is the only way of getting across to
the island right now.’
‘It’s just that I remember the boat being bigger when I was a child.’ I hug my life jacket tightly to my chest. ‘This one
seems so tiny. Are you sure it’s safe to take it across there today? Those waves look awfully big.’
The skipper of the boat, who is patiently waiting to untie itfrom the harbour, smiles at me kindly. ‘I’ve ferried many a boat across to that island in my time, and this one’s quite safe.
Plus,’ he says looking up at the sky, ‘this’ll be a calm day on the water – especially for January.’
I smile at him, grateful for his words of encouragement. He seems awfully young, though; usually the skippers of these boats
are gnarly old men with brown, wrinkled skin and gappy teeth. Maybe we should have got someone with a bit more experience
to take us across. This guy, while cute-looking with his sandy blond hair and bright blue eyes, looks like he’d know more
about handling a modelling contract than a motorboat. Now that I’ve finally agreed to sail across to this island today, I
at least want to be in a boat with someone who looks as if they know what they’re doing.
Yes: fate, karma, or whatever you want to call it has taken a hand in helping to make my visit to the island today a lot easier
to achieve. The new water feature in our flat turned out to be the result of our upstairs neighbour leaving his bath running
while going back to bed and nodding off to sleep again. So while our landlord is arguing with the workmen over quotes and
prices to get everything patched up, Roxi and I have decided that temporarily vacating our flat is preferable to trying to
avoid glancing upwards and spotting parts of Mr Jenkinson that we really don’t want to see as he wanders about his flat in
just his dressing gown. Roxi is staying in a room over the pub, and I’m kipping on Sophie’s rather uncomfortable sofa. So
my pre-planned weekend spent in a proper bed in an Irish hotel has come as quite a welcome bonus.
‘Right, I’m getting out if she’s not getting in,’ Niall’s boatingcompanion says, standing up inside the boat so that it rocks enough for Niall to need to hold on to the side.
‘No, don’t do that! I’m coming, really. I just need to change my shoes.’
Reaching down, I pull off my favourite pair of flat pumps and take a pair of UGG boots from my rucksack.
‘Why is she putting on slippers?’ I hear him ask Niall as he sits back down in the boat again.
‘They’re not slippers,’ I call to him. ‘They’re UGG boots, actually. And they’ll keep my feet nice and warm while we’re over
there.’
‘They might keep you warm, but I doubt they’ll keep you dry,’ the passenger mutters, shaking his head. ‘Have you any idea
of the terrain over on that island?’
‘Look … Miss?’ the boatman interrupts us.
‘Darcy. Just call me Darcy, please.’
‘Conor,’ he says by way of introduction, as a set of perfect white teeth now appear, matching the rest of his faultless façade.
‘Look, Darcy, why don’t the two gentlemen do what they’re supposed to do and actually act like gentlemen by helping you down
into the boat, and then we can be on our way? We
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