Page 7 of Second Chance Summer
Fifteen minutes later, she checked her watch, standing in the porch of the helicopter hut. She was the only person left, fog had enveloped the whole field and she felt alone and abandoned. Several times, she’d seemed to be on the verge of tears, which was absolutely shameful.
She had to get a grip on herself. She’d had many setbacks in her life and she’d overcome those. The fact some resort manager wasn’t ready with flower leis and hot towels at the airport was a minor glitch.
Still, leaving a client waiting for twenty-five minutes without a call wasn’t a good start, especially when they’d – she’d – had such a long and tiring journey.
‘Ah. There you are. I suppose you’re the guest.’
Lily glanced up at the gruff voice.
Its owner was wearing cargo shorts, a Henri Lloyd waterproof and muddy construction boots.
Lily almost burst out laughing. If you could have conjured up a ruggedly handsome outdoorsy type, this man lived up to every expectation. He was tall, tanned and clearly hadn’t had time for a shave that morning – or to change his clothes, judging by the splashes of cream paint on his shorts.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ he said. ‘I was on my way but there was a rope caught around Rory’s propellor. He asked me to help and I thought it’d be a five-minute job but it took longer. Hoped you’d be OK for a few minutes.’
‘You must be Mr Teague,’ Lily said coolly when he didn’t introduce himself.
He laughed. ‘Oh, call me Sam. Everyone’s on first-name terms here. You must be Lily.’
‘That’s me,’ she said, thinking he could at least have checked if she minded being addressed by her first name – especially as he was running a high-end resort.
‘Well, I do apologise again for keeping you waiting,’ he said, though the words came out tersely. ‘I did message you.’
‘Unfortunately, I didn’t get it.’
‘Bugger.’ Sam raked his hands through curly black hair that had clearly fought a losing battle with the sea air and damp. ‘No, well, the phone signal on the islands can be patchy to say the least.’
‘Idounderstand,’ Lily said, trying not to live up to the stereotypical image of a city grockle or emmet or whatever derogatory name tourists were probably known by in these parts. Then again, she was supposed to be a valued client. Perhaps Sam would benefit from some guest–relations tips. ‘Let’s just hope the signal will be better at the retreat!’
Sam rubbed his stubbled chin. ‘To be honest, we tend to communicate by radio with the main island.’
‘Themainisland?’ she echoed.
He pointed into the mist where Lily could – if she tried very, very hard – make out the vague outline of twin low hills across sand flats. ‘Bryher. That’s the island just over the channel from here. There are five settled islands in Scilly and lots of little uninhabited ones, including Stark. There’s a signal on Bryher, of course. Think of it as Australia to Stark’s Tasmania.’
‘Ha,’ Lily muttered, unsure if he was being serious or not.
Sam led the way to a golf buggy parked by the shed. ‘OK, time and tide wait for no one. Jump in and I’ll take you tothe Bryher quay, then it’s a quick scoot over to Stark in the jetboat.’
Exhaustion washed over her. ‘Can’t we go straight to Stark? It’s been a tiring journey and I can’t wait for a nice bath and a chill out before dinner.’
‘I need to collect supplies from Bryher first. I promise I won’t be more than fifteen minutes, then we’ll be on our way.’ He picked up her suitcase and dumped it in the back of the buggy.
Lily couldn’t resist. ‘Are we likely to be there before darkness falls?’
‘I should think we might just make it, if we’re lucky,’ he said, leaving her unsure if he was joking or not.
Ten minutes later, they were indeed in the jetboat – a speedboat called theHydra, which at least had a cabin to huddle in away from the mizzle and sea spray.
She waited in there while Sam nipped onto the stone quay of Bryher. A few people waited, trussed up in Gore-tex from head to toe, yet seeming very happy about standing outside in the drizzle.
A weather-beaten man in yellow oilskins greeted Sam cheerfully. ‘Hello! You picked your weather, mate!’
‘Yeah. Everything OK with the boat now?’
‘Fingers crossed. Thanks for helping me out. Hope it didn’t make you late for anything important.’
‘Naw, mate, it was fine.’
