Chapter Twelve
Liv was asleep when Ivy tumbled into bed.
She dreamed a strange confused dream – of tapdancing lobsters performing outside the ghostly lighthouse and Mr Hargreaves conducting, all set to a jazz soundtrack.
Trip was there too, hands in pockets, smiling his sunny smile and looking on.
You’re nice too, Ivy. In the dream, Ivy felt like everything was going to be okay.
For the first time in weeks she had slept deeply and was sound asleep when her alarm went off.
She sat bolt upright, disorientated, quickly turning it off so as not to wake Liv – why had she set an alarm so early?
Then it came back to her. Of course. Her appointment with Brooke, Trip and Seal Island.
Forty-five minutes later, outside the shop, swaddled in all the winter clothes she could pile on, she found Brooke alone, looking as usual effortlessly put together in leggings and a thick padded coat.
‘Trip’s just getting the snacks,’ she said, pulling on thermal gloves. ‘He doesn’t travel without them.’
Ivy smiled. ‘Of course. Did he tell you about the rehearsal last night? He had the show committee eating out of his hand. The children following direction for the first time ever. And he revised the script into something coherent in the space of an evening. It was quite something to watch.’
‘Trip has a way with people,’ Brooke said. ‘And he doesn’t do half measures.’ She gave Ivy a curious look. ‘He was out later than I thought he would be.’
‘We took the scenic route back to my car,’ said Ivy.
‘Hm,’ said Brooke. ‘Wasn’t it a bit dark for a stroll?’
‘Um. The moon came out,’ said Ivy, and for some reason she felt her cheeks getting pink.
‘Well.’ Brooke regarded her in silence for a moment, then said, ‘I’m looking forward to seeing Seal Island. Another Fox Bay secret?’
Ivy yawned into her coffee. ‘I mean. It’s an island, there are seals.’
‘Apparently it’s a dead ringer for Saltwater Isle in Ocean Deep though,’ said Brooke, pulling out her phone and clicking on a link.
‘Look.’ She held out the phone. ‘In this interview, Kathleen Lee says it’s exactly how she imagined it when she wrote the book.
She said, and I quote, “Fox Bay could have been conjured up out of my own imagination. It’s exactly where I imagined the captain returning when he comes home and finds love again”. ’
‘So you are a Kathleen Lee fan then?’ said Ivy curiously. She was sure she remembered Brooke saying the opposite.
Brooke shrugged and Ivy thought that she was also flushing. ‘Yeah, I mean her books are okay. I quite like them.’
‘I’m sorry. They’re okay? You quite like them?
’ Trip appeared, holding his backpack and tugging on his beanie.
‘Come on, Brooke, be honest now.’ A look of mischief crossed his face.
He turned to Ivy. ‘Ivy, I think it’s time for me to tell you my sister’s deepest, darkest secret,’ he said. ‘She loves— Oof!’
He broke off as Brooke elbowed him hard in the ribs. ‘Shut up,’ she hissed. ‘And come on, will you? We’ll be late.’
She stalked down the street.
‘What?’ whispered Ivy as they hurried after her. ‘What’s your sister’s deepest, darkest secret?’
‘Brooke loves rom coms,’ said Trip, his long legs keeping pace easily.
‘She’s the biggest Kathleen Lee fan. She’s read all of them.
She goes on Reddit forums talking about them.
And everything else. Jilly Cooper, Emily Henry, Tessa Bailey, Danielle Steele.
Brooke is never without at least one of those on her bedside table. ’
‘Really?’ whispered Ivy, panting as she struggled to keep up with Brooke’s rapid stride. ‘But that seems so unlikely. Rom coms are all about love and optimism and Brooke is …’ Hard as nails, she wanted to finish, but she bit her tongue. ‘She seems more of a realist.’
‘Oh, Brooke loves a love story,’ Trip said.
‘Romantic movies too. She’s always curled up watching something, so long as it has a happy ending …
Name a Hallmark movie and she’ll have watched it.
In fact, she usually clears this time of year just for that.
The whole of December. She said otherwise she doesn’t have time to finish them all before Christmas Day, what with all the subsidiary channels. ’
Ivy couldn’t help laughing, breathless from the pace the siblings were setting. ‘Brooke is just like the heroine at the start of every Hallmark movie, before she meets the smalltown man who melts her heart. I had no idea she was such a fan.’
‘That’s why she’s here,’ said Trip. ‘To see if—’ He broke off.
‘What?’ said Ivy, frowning. ‘To see if what?’
‘To see if Fox Bay is how she imagined it when she was reading Ocean Deep,’ he said, rather woodenly, looking straight ahead. There was something unconvincing in his tone that made Ivy study him closely. ‘Look,’ he said, pointing, ‘there’s Old Bill.’
Old Bill was sitting on the edge of his faded blue boat, whittling some indeterminate piece of wood.
‘Ah, you’re here for the island trip,’ he said, standing up as they approached. ‘Kate! Customers are here.’
Kate, a lean, tanned woman who Ivy knew used to run the surf school with Jacob, stuck her head out of the boathouse. ‘Hey, Ivy,’ she said. ‘Nice to see you back. How’s art school?’
‘It’s okay,’ said Ivy evasively. One day she would have to come up with a better answer. ‘Are you doing boat tours with Bill now?’
‘The surf shop is mostly shut up in the winter,’ she explained. She emerged holding a cup of tea and zipping up her jacket. ‘Apart from a few die-hard enthusiasts. Old Bill gave me this gig.’
‘What she’s not telling you is I’m not allowed to do long trips now.
I’ve got to be careful, the doctor says,’ grumbled Old Bill.
‘Eyes aren’t what they were, neither’s my balance.
I promised Simi I’d be careful and she’s watching me like a hawk.
Although I would be fine …’ He shrugged.
‘Anyway, Kate’s been helping me out till it’s lighter. ’
‘Sorry it’s so early,’ Kate said, taking a final swig of her tea and setting the tin cup down on the harbour wall. ‘The tours start at eight and we’re still booked out after the Kathleen Lee stuff last summer.’ She pulled on a bright orange bobble hat. ‘Shall we go?’
‘Sure,’ said Brooke, hopping neatly into the boat. Trip followed and both siblings settled themselves with ease. Ivy, who scrambled in far less gracefully, boat rocking, wondered if they were used to sailing. Whereas she, who had grown up by the actual sea, had barely set foot in a boat.
‘Cast off,’ bellowed Old Bill, seemingly oblivious to the early hour and the sleeping residents of Fox Bay. ‘May you have fair winds and following seas!’
Soon they were heading across the water under a sky that was slowly turning gold.
After about twenty minutes’ sailing, Seal Island rose ahead of them and, as they neared the rocks, seals began to appear, first a slick head or two, then dozens of them, lounging like sunbathers on the rocks, slipping into the sea with curious glances as the boat approached.
Kate slowed the boat and the seals bobbed in the water, watching.
Brooke, seated near the bow, laughed with delight at one particularly bold pup that barked indignantly at them.
Trip pointed, wide-eyed, as another darted beneath the boat like a shadow.
The siblings looked more alike when they were relaxed, Ivy thought – Brooke in particular was transformed in this moment, her whole face alight with excitement.
Ivy wished, suddenly, that she could draw this and found herself reaching into her coat pocket – but she hadn’t brought her sketchbook.
‘Here.’
She looked up to see Trip holding out a leather sketchbook and pencil.
‘You’re looking for your sketchbook, right? Because I saw this in the stationery shop and got it for you. I meant to give it to you at the bookshop,’ he said. ‘In case you did want to have a go at drawing Fox Bay.’
‘Oh.’ Ivy felt herself going pink. ‘That’s really … thoughtful of you. Thanks.’
Trip turned back to look out at the sea.
Her cheeks still hot, Ivy opened the sketchbook. Her pencil moved almost instinctively, capturing Brooke’s windswept profile and excited gaze, her pointing finger, Trip’s eyes crinkled in laughter, the glistening water and the shimmer of movement beneath it.
She flipped the page and drew their feet in the bottom of the boat, her battered, paint-spattered DM boots, Kate’s trainers, Trip’s brown leather Chelsea boots and Brooke’s expensive-looking hiking shoes.
When she turned the sketchbook page again, this time she focused on Trip and Brooke, heads close together as they looked out at the seals clustered on the rocks, talking quietly.
She hadn’t drawn like this in weeks, with the same ease and fluidity. Maybe longer. She leaned closer as she drew, trying to capture the siblings – and caught snatches of their conversation.
‘Another place Gran would have loved,’ Brooke was saying quietly.
‘Yeah,’ Trip said, voice barely audible above the gentle lapping sound of the water. ‘She really would. She wanted to see seals one last time, didn’t she? I had that trip planned to La Jolla, but …’
Ivy paused, pencil mid-line, struck by the expression on his face as she caught him in profile.
The unexpected sadness. She couldn’t resist drawing it.
The frown between Trip’s eyes, the way his mouth was set in a tight line, the way his hair fell over his forehead.
She glanced away and slipped the sketchbook back in her coat, feeling like she had just seen and captured something she shouldn’t have. The boat bobbed quietly for a moment.
‘I need to get back,’ Kate called over at last. ‘My first tour’s about to start.’ She cricked her neck. ‘Ugh, I’ve managed to pull a muscle,’ she said. ‘Today’s going to be fun.’
‘I can get us back,’ said Trip. ‘If you want a break.’
‘Really?’ said Kate gratefully. ‘I wouldn’t mind. If you’re up to it.’
‘Sure thing,’ he said. ‘I’ve been around boats since I was little.’
‘You sail?’ said Ivy, rolling her eyes. ‘Sailing, theatre camp. Did you really have the perfect All-American childhood?’
‘Um,’ said Trip, avoiding her eye as he swapped places with Kate. ‘Sort of.’
They began to sail back, Trip handling the boat with ease. ‘You know what you’re doing,’ said Kate, impressed. ‘Can you take over the rest of the tours today?’
Brooke snorted. ‘Don’t ask him, because he will.’
Trip shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t mind.’
‘Trip needs to learn to say no,’ Brooke said. ‘I’m trying to train him.’
‘There’s one more sight to see on the way,’ said Kate. She grinned. ‘Only you can’t actually see it, I’m afraid.’ She squinted and pointed just behind Seal Island. ‘Over there should be Mystery Island.’
‘What’s Mystery Island?’ asked Trip.
‘Old Bill claims there’s a secret island near Seal Island, that only emerges during a full moon.
Says that smugglers used to hide rum there, pirates would hide from the law – all sorts of tall tales.
I’ve never found anything myself, but then again I’ve never looked that hard. I like the mystery aspect.’
‘Mystery Island,’ Trip said, his ready smile starting. ‘I like that too.’
‘Very Famous Five,’ Ivy said. ‘But it doesn’t exist. Old Bill made it up, obviously.’
Trip grinned. ‘Be cool if it did though, wouldn’t it?’
All the way back, Ivy found herself watching Trip’s hands on the oars and ropes, the flex of his muscles under his T-shirt as she listened to the hush of the sea between them.