Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
I woke up, thrashing around in my sleeping bag.
Outside the rippling canvas of my pillar-box red tent, I could hear the quiet rush of the sea.
I lay there for a few moments, staring up at the red spokes holding up my tent roof.
I felt hot and uncomfortable, like a frustrated caterpillar trapped in its cocoon.
Right. I’d get up and grab some fresh air.
I had no idea what the time was.
I scrambled my hand down by the side of my sleeping bag and picked up my watch. I squinted at it.
It was only five o’clock in the morning! What fresh hell was this?!
I sighed and pushed myself upright. What I wouldn’t give right now for my comfy, king-sized bed and a hot shower.
I scrambled forwards on all fours, my thick, candy pink and white checked pyjamas sticking to me as I fiddled with the zip on my tent. I poked my head out. It was still dark, with just the hum of the waves for company.
I remembered Logan saying something last night about getting up early to go and collect some fresh logs for the campfire and I was pretty sure I’d heard him moving around earlier, through my half-awake mental fug.
I shivered against the fresh sea wind whipping up from the Coral Beach. How on earth could anyone sleep out here in a tent, for pity’s sake?!
I reached back into my tent, located my thick fleece and threw that on, together with my walking boots. My hair was lodged on my head in a messy bun. I also grabbed my camera and hung it round my neck.
I just hoped I didn’t come across anyone who might recognise me looking like this, although as the beach was deserted, I thought that unlikely.
The sky was still charcoal and decorated with stars and I stood for a minute, the grass whispering under my feet, hoping for an eventual palette of colour to smear across the sky. The crushed, bleached coral was almost dusky mink in some areas and the North Atlantic was rippling like melted silver. It was like I was the only survivor in a zombie apocalypse movie.
Despite my bladder insisting I needed a pee, I decided to venture down to the beach to take some dramatic, moody photos for Instagram.
The shells crushed and scrunched under my boots as I negotiated my way across it.
I stopped and took a few shots of the dark sky, complimented by the ghostly quiet horizon, before turning my attention to the hills on the right. There were smudges of black against the moody backdrop of early morning, as though Skye was waiting for her cue to throw off her dark cloak and reveal a warm array of rich, rippling colour.
I glanced back at our tents, their triangular silhouettes rippling in the dark morning. They’d make a good photograph too, with the wild grasses, their angular shapes and the rugged scenery. I readied my camera and took a couple of shots.
‘It’s only just after five,’ I murmured as I then made my recording. ‘And I’m all alone on the Coral Beach here on Skye. This is a bit like walking on popcorn…’
I was about to mention the rock pools further up the shore, when an odd noise made me jump.
I jabbed the record button to stop and listened intently, twisting my head in one direction and then another. I was sure I’d heard something but perhaps I’d imagined it? I took in the stretch of beach. There was still no-one else around, except for the odd bird flitting on the horizon. I looked across and up to where the tents were again. I wondered for a moment if it was Logan trying to be funny again, after yesterday’s jape with Rusty the Highland bull, but there was no sign of him either.
I raised my camera and took a couple more images of the faint hint of raspberry ripple effect teasing in the black sky.
Wow. I’d never seen anything like that before.
Then the noise erupted again.
So, I hadn’t imagined it.
What was it and where was it coming from?
I strained my ears. It was like a high-pitched bleep.
I stopped taking pictures and looked to the right, down the ribbon of water and shells.
What was that?
A glossy, dark grey sheen was thrashing around in the shallows, about thirty feet away.
I pushed away some stray hair that had been blown into my eyes and tightened my top knot, which was secured with a scrunchie. Something seemed to be struggling in the water.
A couple more high-pitched squeaks shot up into the air, which made me jump, even though I’d already concluded it wasn’t a person as I moved further down the beach towards it.
As I drew closer, I got a flash of what looked like a dorsal fin protruding from the navy, slapping water.
For a moment, my crazy imagination pulled up images of great white sharks.
Yeah! In the Scottish Highlands?
I’d seen on the news a couple of times that huge basking sharks had been spotted cruising through the waters in this area over the years, but from what I could make out, this was too small to be one of those.
The pleading, desperate noises increased but I hesitated before moving a little closer. The water was lapping at the toe of my walking boots.
There was a flip of distressed tail, and I caught a glimpse of a long, snub nose.
It was a dolphin.
It looked like it’d got itself stuck between two rocks right at the shoreline. It proceeded to struggle and wriggle as the water lapped at it, in a desperate attempt to free itself. It made even more desperate blips and whirrs when it noticed me hovering nearby.
Bugger! Now what?
I spun around on the shore, but the beach remained empty. Of course it would be, at this time of the morning.
I stared up at Logan’s tent again, perched next to mine on the windswept hill but there was still no sign of him.
I whirled my attention back to the struggling creature.
Oh God! What should I do? What could I do?
I scrambled about in my fleece pocket for my phone and pulled up Logan’s mobile number in my contacts.
Great. It went straight through to his voicemail.
Probably too busy tearing up trees with his bare hands.
I gawped around myself with increasing worry. I mentally willed someone else to appear.
Nope. I was the only person standing there. But who was I hoping to see striding along towards me at this hour? The Scottish Military Pipe Band?
The morning light was beginning to seep across the top of the water, revealing little, tantalising glimpse of the aqua and orange that was to come.
The dolphin continued to wriggle and thrash, trying to free itself. Its attention kept drifting to me, as though appealing for help.
I rubbed a desperate hand against my forehead. The animal (sorry, mammal) was making even more noise and becoming even more agitated.
I recalled reading about dolphins becoming so distressed in this sort of situation, it could prove fatal for them.
It didn’t feel like time was on our side.
What was it with me, creatures and this island?
I gave the North Atlantic a glower.
Water was great for drinking and showering in, but as for getting into it… Why couldn’t I have come across a bird stranded on a nice, dry rock on the shore, instead? I could swim a few strokes, but I wasn’t confident.
I chewed my lip.
The dolphin squirmed again, waggling its tail and sending a terrified spray of water up into the air.
Right. I couldn’t just stand here and watch the poor thing fighting for its life. I had to do something.
‘Oh, I hate you, Justine!’ I screamed into the salty sprays of air.
With a frustrated puff, I set my phone and camera down on a nearby rock, before leaning against it to tug off my thick socks and walking boots. I peeled off my fleece next. Then I looked left and right to make sure there wasn’t a sudden arrival of fifty people and whipped off my pyjama bottoms.
Thank goodness I’d kept a pair of my black panties on.
I was now standing with the icy cold North Atlantic water nipping at my bare toes, dressed in just my black panties and my pyjama top.
I let out a sharp gasp as I made my way over the carpet of dry, brittle coral and shells, and into the sea. I also let rip with a few choice expletives on the way.
The chilled salt water immersed my bare feet and legs, as I edged my way in. My shriek at the temperature almost matched the dolphin’s in frequency.
I set my shoulders and waded in a little deeper. Come on, Darcie.
Now the sea was swishing against my bare thighs.
I took a deep breath and tried not to panic as I reached the trapped dolphin. Its slick body was still thrashing under the water, its liquid blue eyes swirling at me. No matter how hard it tried, it just couldn’t escape from between the two rocks.
‘Sssh, it’s OK,’ I said to the frightened creature, not sounding at all convincing, even to myself.
I raised my right hand in the air and lowered it towards the dolphin’s smooth, shiny head. I gave it a little stroke. It felt slippery.
Frustrated, I yelled at the top of my voice, ‘Logan! Logan! It’s Darcie! Help!’
But my words evaporated into the wind.
Oh, why was I bothering? He couldn’t hear me. No doubt rampaging around somewhere, thinking about rocks.
Trying to stifle a shiver from the chilly blue water, I turned my attention back to the dolphin and waded around it, trying to see a way of dislodging it.
I started to mutter what I hoped were calming words. He was a bit bigger than I’d initially thought and I didn’t fancy getting clobbered by his tail if he panicked. What was I going to do?
I bent over and scooped up some of the seawater in my trembling hands. I threw it over his protruding blow hole and arch of gleaming back. ‘OK, Flipper, just give me a minute to figure this out.’
If I could try to ease him out from between the rocks or even give him a gentle push, it might be just enough to propel him out and then he could just swim away.
It sounded easier said than done when I played it back in my head, but doing something was better than doing nothing.
I jerked my hands back up out of the water and braced myself, before trying to angle him from one side. Oh, for the love of God. It was like trying to move a brick wall.
With the saltwater frothing around me, I made a few more attempts to push Flipper free.
But he just gazed mournfully up at me as if to say, ‘You don’t know what you’re doing, do you?’
With the water leaping up and soaking even more of my pyjama top, I prepared myself again. I braced my arms and with one frustrated cry, pushed them underwater and against the dolphin’s flank.
But this time, I misjudged my actions on all fronts and stumbled backwards. The water closed in over my head like a freezing cold, salty roof.
The shock charged through me like an electric current.
I flapped and flailed, the gleaming grey image of Flipper’s fleshy underbelly bobbing up and down in front of me.
I started to try to swim, but a sudden, jerking motion on my arms made me gasp. I took in a mouthful of seawater.
It was then I realised that two strong hands had seized my arms and I was being unceremoniously yanked towards the surface.
I coughed, greedily taking in mouthfuls of fresh air. My hair had escaped from its messy bun and was streaming down and around my face, and my pyjama top was clinging to me like a sodden, second skin.
I blinked the salt water out of my eyes. Then I registered that someone was holding me upright by my upper arms.
It was Logan.
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
Shock gave way to indignation as I stared up at him through my curtain of wet, trailing hair. ‘I was shopping for shoes. What the hell do you think I was doing?’ I pointed at the struggling dolphin.
Logan studied Flipper, then looked back at me.
I was aware of Logan’s hands still clutching onto me. They’d moved up to my saturated shoulders now. His light, sparkly eyes flashed at me, framed by protruding, black lashes. ‘You’re trying to rescue him?’
‘No, I was asking him for directions.’ Then a thought struck.
Oh no.
My hands crept downwards to the rest of my body. I was standing there, in front of him, sporting just my sodden pyjama top and my black panties.
Embarrassment fired through me.
I took a step backwards in the water, thankful now that my bedraggled hair was concealing a lot of my eyes.
But if Logan noticed I was standing there in a pair of cotton knickers and looking like a contestant in a Ms Wet T-shirt competition, he didn’t acknowledge it.
‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ he asked.
‘Yes, I’m fine, thanks. Nothing a hot shower and a cuppa won’t cure. But he isn’t.’
Logan gave a decisive nod. ‘OK. Well. Before I get you sorted out, let’s deal with this guy.’ He took control of the situation. ‘Move back, Darcie, and look out for his tail. They can give you one almighty slap with that, if you’re not careful.’
I did as I was told and moved a couple of feet away, while Logan talked to Flipper in a soft, reassuring tone. His lilting, Scottish voice was almost hypnotic. ‘OK fella. You’ve got yourself stuck, but try to stay calm.’
Logan turned his attention back to me. He was wearing a pair of long denim cut-offs and one of his old sweaters. It suited him. ‘Right, we need to try and manoeuvre him, so he has enough leverage to push himself free.’ Logan then spent the next few minutes trying to ease one of the rocks a bit loose. He delved both hands into the water and I couldn’t help but notice that he’d rolled up the sleeves of his jumper and his biceps were on display, the muscles bunching under the skin.
‘Can I help?’ I asked, wrapping my arms around myself. ‘Come on,’ I urged, gritting my teeth against the cold. ‘I’ve not got soaked and drenched my hair in sea salt for nothing.’
Logan splashed around. ‘I think I’ve managed to loosen this rock. He seems to be at a better angle this side.’ He sloshed his way through the waves. ‘If you could come here and stand over his dorsal fin and give him a push when I tell you to, that should give Flipper some extra propulsion.’
‘OK.’
I reached out both my hands and held them against the dolphin’s proud, sharp dorsal fin.
Logan struggled again with the rock and grunted after another few moments. ‘I’ll count to three and then you give him a push.’
He took in a deep breath and wrestled with the same rock. ‘One, two, three … try now!’
I pushed Flipper’s dorsal fin as the rock Logan had been battling with for the past few minutes shifted in the water and the dolphin took off, weaving this way and that through the waves, like a freed twisting grey ribbon.
Logan spun round to look at me and his face broke into a relieved grin through his conker brown stubble. ‘We did it!’
I stood there like a drowned rat and watched Flipper melt into the sea and vanish. A frisson of happiness shot through me, along with satisfaction.
Logan waded back towards me, his hair glinting with seawater. He gave his head a shake. ‘You look frozen. Let’s get you dried off. You need hot tea and some breakfast inside you.’
Shivering, I stumbled through the waves and back to the shore edge.
Logan retrieved my discarded clothing. ‘Lean against this rock and I’ll give you a hand.’
I was aware I was still standing there in my black panties and saturated top, but Logan didn’t refer to my attire or allow his attention to drift in that direction.
I realised with a sudden jolt, that a part of me was irritated. What was wrong with me?
‘What are you doing?’ I asked, as he knelt down on the starched, dry shore.
‘Well, I’m not proposing marriage.’ Logan winked up at me as he held out my pyjama bottoms.
My cheeks flared with colour and I hastily snatched them and put them on. ‘Good,’ I snapped. ‘That’s a relief.’
He grinned. ‘Here, let me help you get your socks and boots back on.’
Feeling self-conscious, I fixed my attention on the squiggly waves on the horizon, while Logan helped me into my socks. I could feel his fingers brushing against my damp legs and tried to suppress the shiver that ran through me. A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold.
‘Thank you,’ I murmured, still aware I was like a drowned ragdoll, slumped against the rock.
Noticing my shivering, Logan thrust both arms above his head and tugged off the old cream jumper he was wearing, handing it to me.
‘Here. Put this on to keep you warm till we get back to the tents.’
I looked down at his hand, at his jumper bunched in it. He waggled it. ‘Go on. Take it.’
‘Oh. Right. Thank you. So, where were you anyway?’ I asked, trying to distract myself from his sculpted chest, which was now on display.
‘Collecting logs for the campfire. You good to go?’
‘Yes.’ I shivered. ‘Thanks, Logan. For the jumper. And for your help with the dolphin.’
‘No worries.’
We strode back to our tents under the dawning sky in silence and I sneaked a brief look at him. Were all guys like him on Skye? Gallant and kind?
‘What you just did was pretty stupid,’ said Logan, giving me a side-eye and killing the moment. ‘But very brave and kind of you too.’
‘What was? Letting you put my socks and boots back on?’
‘Yes, very funny. I’m talking about your one-woman attempt at a dolphin rescue.’
I blushed fuchsia pink. ‘I couldn’t just stand there and watch the poor thing fighting for its life. It’s what any decent person would’ve done.’ I flicked my stream of loose, wet hair behind me.
Logan fixed me with a look. ‘Learn to take a compliment, Darcie.’
I jutted my chin out. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
He eyed me. ‘Yes, you do.’
I marched further ahead, wanting to put some much-needed space between us. He had this knack for making me feel unsettled, self-conscious and not in control. He was an absolute pain in the arse, but a very handsome one.
I threw him a long look over my shoulder as we approached our tents.
I did appreciate him coming to my and Flipper’s rescue.
Very much.