Island in the Sea by Anita Hughes Page A

Thames.”
    â€œYou have a lot of free time for someone who is determined to be a songwriter,” Samantha murmured.
    â€œYou don’t know what you’ve done. I open a book and read the same chapter three times. I make a sandwich and forget the bread.” Lionel groaned. “Yesterday I walked to the newsagent in my dressing gown. And I sit at my desk and can’t write a word.”
    â€œI’m sure it’s just writer’s block,” Samantha soothed.
    â€œI was creating brilliant lyrics until you came along,” Lionel exclaimed. “Now I couldn’t write a jingle for laundry detergent.”
    â€œMaybe you should change professions,” Samantha suggested. “You could be a chef or an actor or a ski instructor.”
    â€œYou think this is funny,” Lionel retorted. “I have to write, it’s the most important thing in the world. Without writing songs I have absolutely nothing.”
    â€œThen I’m sure it will come back to you,” Samantha replied. “Try vodka and tomato juice, it’s the cure for anything.”
    Lionel heard the phone click and slumped on the bed. He put his head in his hands and let out a low moan. He heard the phone ring and picked it up.
    â€œAll right, I will go out with you.”
    â€œI have Thursday night off.” Lionel jumped up. “I’ll make dinner reservations at the Savoy and then we’ll see Cats . I have a friend who’s the stage manager, he’ll get us box seats.”
    â€œI’m taking Abigail and her friends to the puppet show at Regent’s Park this afternoon,” Samantha replied. “You can meet us at the side gate at one o’clock.”
    â€œYou want me to chaperone a group of eight-year-old girls to a puppet show?” Lionel spluttered.
    â€œWear something that doesn’t stain,” Samantha said. “The girls always want someone to hold their ice cream cones when they ride the carousel.”
    *   *   *
    Lionel wiped his brow and slipped his hands in his pockets. He gazed at the throng of boys and girls surrounding the puppet stage and thought he’d give anything for a scotch and a cigarette.
    He had spent the last three hours waiting in line for mince pies and fairy floss. He held Abigail’s doll when she rode the Ferris wheel and let himself be blindfolded for a game of pin the tail on the donkey. He barely saw Samantha because she was busy making sure the girls didn’t fall in the lake or eat too many bread rolls at lunch.
    Halfway through the afternoon, he was determined to tell her she could find another babysitter. But then he saw her tying Abigail’s shoelace and felt his heart melt. He studied her blue eyes and alabaster skin and wanted to run his finger over her mouth.
    *   *   *
    He leaned against an oak tree and waited for Lucy to come out of the bathroom.
    â€œExcuse me.” He stopped an older woman with silver hair. “Could you see if there’s a little girl inside, blond pigtails wearing a blue sailor dress?”
    The woman raised her eyebrows and Lionel flushed.
    â€œI’m watching her for a friend and I’m afraid she might be sick.”
    Lionel waited while the woman went inside.
    She appeared at the door. “There’s no one in there.”
    â€œShe has to be.” Lionel’s pulse raced. “I’ve been guarding the entrance.”
    â€œWell you haven’t been doing a very good job,” she turned around. “I’m afraid you lost her.”
    Lionel raced through the park past the cricket field and the netball court. He searched the playground and the souvenir shop. Finally he reached the lake and noticed a paddleboat in the middle of the water. He saw a small blond girl hunched over the steering wheel.
    â€œLucy!” he called. “What are you doing? Paddle back to shore.”
    â€œI can’t,” she called