Later that day, the carrier boat arrived, with gas bottles for hot water, a few passengers and fresh food. It took the lobsters in their crates back to the mainland for sale.
Two of the passengers, I learned, were Vanessa’s deckhands and they’d been shopping on the mainland. She sounded as excited as a five-year-old over some of their purchases.
“Ice cream!” I heard the squeal from the veranda. I stuck my head outside to take a look.
Vanessa was holding a tub of ice cream, hugging it to her chest. She looked down to read the label. “Why is it pink?”
“It’s strawberry ice cream. It’s supposed to be pink.” The dark-haired girl sounded matter-of-fact.
Vanessa pursed her lips. “Well, I guess I’ll eat it. But next time don’t get the pink one. I prefer chocolate.” She gave a resigned sigh and carried her ice cream into the kitchen.
I laughed quietly. One of the girls standing on Vanessa’s veranda turned and saw me. The other girl turned, too.
I hurried back into my house and shut the door.
I watched them through the window, as they both carried boxes of food onto the boat tied up at the end of the jetty next to Skipper’s. They didn’t return, staying on board the boat.
Wow, a female skipper with girl deckies, I thought. Who’d be happy to throw a punch at me, I realised as I remembered Skipper’s warning. I tried not to think about them as I put away my fresh supplies