The small boat was jauntily painted in blue and white, with a motor at the back and varnished wooden seats set into the sides.
Jaunty but no longer moored.
It had been at one time, but high waves, or faulty knot-tying, meant that now it had floated over to the other side of the cove and got itself stuck on a rock.
‘We could walk across …’ Rory offered.
This was not a pleasant sunbathing cove where couples would go to jump off the cliff edge into the clear waters below, shrieking happily. If they did, they would shriek only because, as they landed, the rocks would tear them apart. Instead, this cove was a shelf of slick rock interrupted at its deepest point by a cave, guarded by huge boulder teeth so jagged and steep there was no way they could climb over them.
They could see the boat but they couldn’t get to it.
Rory slithered to the edge and looked at the water that separated them from the bobbing boat.
‘We could swim it.’
Rory could, perhaps – if his heart didn’t seize up in the cold water.
‘I can’t swim.’
‘What?’ Rory gaped at her. ‘Everyone can swim! You just can’t swim very far. You can float, right?’
Her first ever swimming lesson had been when she was about six or seven. It had been centred on learning to float. She’d worn her little inflatable armbands and the rubbery swimming cap that snapped tightly on her forehead. Holding on to the edge of the pool, she’d kicked out her legs and let them float behind her, feeling that this swimming thing was going to go well … until she let go of the side as encouraged, and promptly sank. She’d never again got past the sinking stage.
‘Everyone can float!’ Rory said.
She started to shake. She was not a burning tree; she was a freezing woman who couldn’t swim.
Rory held the tops of her arms. ‘I’ll help you. It’s not far and it’s probably not that deep either. We have to. It’s our only chance.’
Thea stood and eyed the rocks at the cave mouth that were blocking their path. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard to climb them, after all? All it would take was a delicate balancing on a knife edge and a few impossible leaps …
Easy.
Her foot slithered on a patch of slime and shot out from under her. She flailed her arms ineffectually as Rory caught her around the waist and steadied her. They held on to each other like that for a few seconds, scared to move in case they slipped again.
Around them the sea slapped against the rocks and the dark cave loomed behind, taking the sound of the waves and dragging it into its depths, so it could twist and torture it. There would be bats in there, maybe, or maybe years ago smugglers had used this cave to store their loot taken from shipwrecks. Thea had read somewhere that on islands like this the whole community would come down to the shore if there was a ship floundering, not to help, but to take it apart with pickaxes and strip it of its cargo. Perhaps even beacons up on the cliff had lured unsuspecting vessels to their doom.
Thinking about smugglers and bats took her mind off how she was still clutching Rory, his bulk steadying her and also sheltering her from the wind. From far away it would look like they were caught in a fervent embrace, the cave and the rocks providing a dramatic background.
‘All I could think about was you.’
The words remained between them, like static.
‘I have a memory stick,’ Thea blurted out, not quite sure why she was speaking but barrelling on. ‘Moses gave it to me in the lighthouse. Proof of what the technology can do.’
Rory tilted his head. His face was very close to hers.
‘You should take it, in case – I mean, it’s got to make it out and I can’t— I might …’
His expression when she finally looked him in the eye was enough to make her breath hitch. ‘You will make it,’ he said. ‘We will make it. Okay?’
She nodded because any words were jammed tight in her throat.
‘But,’ he added, turning to the waves again and letting go of her arms, ‘you should put it in the zip pocket of your jacket to be safe. It’s waterproof.’
She felt dizzy without his support but squared her shoulders and edged closer to the flat rocks where the water swirled, trying to remember everything that swimming instructor had told her years ago.
‘Should we take off our shoes?’
‘They’re pretty lightweight. And they’re another layer against the cold water.’
‘It looks quite … choppy.’ She swallowed.
‘But …’ Rory bent to grab at a bit of frayed rope that had been tied around a cone-shaped rock. ‘I think this is where the boat was moored. So if we go in here, maybe the current will just carry us straight to it.’
That “if” was so big, it dwarfed Thea. It was best not to think about it, or about anything.
She edged out some more and then sat on the rock, holding her feet up, ready to push herself in. Rory sat down next to her.
‘It’s going to be really cold. Remember to breathe. Keep hold of me.’
Experimentally she dipped her feet into the water but the iciness of it grabbed at her and she yanked her feet back.
If the past few days had taught her anything, it was that the key to bravery was not to think too much about what you were about to do. Thea pushed herself in.