Chapter Twenty-One
Brooke and Ivy walked across the sands of Mystery Island in the pale gold light of the afternoon sun. The tide slapped lazily against the rocks and curlews wheeled above in long, slow arcs.
They had managed, with much bickering, to ease the boat into the shallow, almost hidden, bay.
Sure enough, the island seemed to have risen from the water as if by magic.
So not all of Old Bill’s tales were entirely made up, Ivy thought.
And there, seated on a rock, near Old Bill’s little boat, was Trip.
His back was to them and his legs dangled over the side. As they drew closer, Ivy saw that he wasn’t humming or smiling. For once, he was still, looking out over the water.
Ivy and Brooke exchanged a glance. ‘Come on,’ said Ivy.
They picked their way carefully over the rocks. ‘Hey,’ called Trip, glancing over his shoulder. He looked surprised. ‘You came all the way out here?’
‘Yes, because you went missing,’ said Ivy severely.
‘I wasn’t missing,’ he said, looking confused. ‘I just needed to get away for a bit. I didn’t mean to worry you.’
‘Well, you did,’ Brooke said, her usually steady voice faltering. ‘You can’t just take off like that, okay?’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said quietly, looking at his lap.
There was silence. Ivy nudged Brooke. ‘You go,’ she whispered. ‘Talk to him.’ She hung back, pretending to examine the shells that had washed up on the shore, but she was unable to resist listening in.
Brooke approached and climbed up on to the rock beside Trip, sitting close to him. ‘I’m sorry. I was just worried about you, buddy,’ she said quietly. ‘You’re my little brother. What’s up?’
‘I was thinking … I wish Grandma had seen this place,’ Trip said, eyes on the horizon. ‘She’d have loved it. The quiet. The ridiculous seals. Magical.’
There was a long silence.
‘I’m sorry,’ Brooke said at last. ‘About Grandma’s house.
About this past year. I rushed through the funeral and clearing her house and the sale like a checklist of things I had to do.
And then I hurried you off to Europe. I didn’t let you have time.
I thought I was doing the right thing but I was so busy trying to organise everything I didn’t let either of us feel anything. ’
Trip turned to look at her. ‘You were just doing your best,’ he said. ‘It’s not your—’
‘Can you let me finish?’ Brooke said, exasperated. ‘Don’t do the thing where you jump in and make everything okay. I’m trying to apologise here.’
‘Fine,’ said Trip, grinning. ‘In that case, continue.’
‘I thought if I could only … keep moving, do the next practical thing, we could skip the worst of the pain. But that wasn’t fair.
You lost her too. And I should’ve let you grieve.
’ She rubbed her forehead. ‘This whole year, I tried to think about what Grandma would have wanted for you. I set up adventure after adventure, because that was your thing, wasn’t it?
You and her, having adventures. And then I thought you’d be done with adventures and you could go to college and get back on track.
’ She gave a shaky laugh. ‘I was trying to be so logical. So, I’m sorry. ’
Trip nodded. ‘Fine, apology accepted. But now I get to make one too, okay?’ He reached out and squeezed his sister’s hand. ‘I’m sorry for not helping more. For letting you do everything.’
Brooke shrugged, blinking fast. ‘I am the big sister,’ she said, her voice wobbling. ‘That’s my thing.’
She let her head rest briefly on his shoulder, just for a second.
‘Um,’ said Ivy. ‘I’m really happy you guys have worked things out … but … the play is in an hour.’ She squinted at her phone. ‘Wait, less than an hour. And Trip, I think they need you.’
Trip glanced up and shrugged. ‘Do they?’ he said flatly. ‘I don’t know, Ivy. Maybe you’re right and getting so involved was a bit stupid. It’s just a school play – I’m sure they’ll all cope fine without me.’
‘No!’ cried Ivy. ‘I wasn’t right at all.
Things are totally falling apart without you.
I’m worried there might be some sort of mutiny at this rate.
Seriously, Trip we need your optimism and over-investment and annoying sunniness.
’ She noticed Brooke fighting back a smile and powered on.
‘And we need you now. The twins were holding Merlin hostage at sword-point when I left.’
Trip hesitated, a smile of his own tugging at the corner of his mouth.
‘The twins are holding Merlin at sword-point?’ he said at last.
‘It was a cardboard sword,’ Ivy confessed. ‘But still. We need you, Trip. The play needs you.’
‘Okay, okay,’ he said, jumping to his feet and brushing down his jeans. ‘Say no more.’
Ivy gave a laugh of relief. ‘Thank goodness. I feel like this island might be submerged soon, anyway. Shall we get back in the boat? I don’t want to end up as the subject of one of Old Bill’s tales.’
Brooke laughed too and slid off the rock. ‘Yeah, I’d rather not be the ghost of the American tourist who vanished on Mystery Island, thanks.’
Trip came closer to Ivy and touched her arm. ‘I’m sorry, Ivy,’ he said. He looked pale and tired and his hair was rumpled, but he seemed calm. ‘I shouldn’t have taken off like that. I just needed some alone time.’ He smiled wryly. ‘And that is not something I ever thought I’d say.’
‘Solitary brooding behaviour does seem out of character for you.’ Ivy swallowed. ‘I wanted to make sure you were okay,’ she added in a small voice.
‘Well, thanks,’ Trip said. Their eyes met, and Ivy noticed the different lights in them. Caramel, gold, flecks of bronze. ‘Thanks for coming to find me.’
Brooke rolled her eyes. ‘Come on, you two. Let’s go put on a show.’