The southerly was in, so it was pretty choppy in Middle Channel. We made it halfway across before she suddenly turned to me and asked me to take over.
She almost slid down the ladder and stumbled to the side before she threw up. And again. And again...
She hugged the side of the boat until we were in the anchorage. She straightened up to help me tie up at her jetty, her face pale.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” I asked, worried.
She smiled wanly. “I get seasick. Thank you for getting us back safely.”
I found this hilarious. “Seriously, you get seasick?” Even the perfect woman has a flaw.
“Yes.” She sounded resigned and looked shaky as she held on to one of the canopy posts for support.
I unloaded my gear onto the jetty, then jumped down after it. “Do you need a hand?” I asked doubtfully, offering it anyway.
She smiled again, shaking her head. “No, I’ll just tidy up here a little bit, then I’ll head back to my place and make a start on something for lunch. Don’t want my deckhands complaining about me having orgies on their boat while they’re away.” She pulled a face.
I forced a laugh and loaded myself up with gear. “Thanks for a fun weekend off. I haven’t enjoyed myself this much in a long time.” Like ever.
She looked rueful. “It’s been ages since I had such a good time, too. Hey, the weekend’s not over yet. You’re welcome to join me for lunch, if you’d like.”
“Yeah, sure,” I replied.
I lugged my fishing and snorkelling gear down her jetty, toward my house. Just as I set foot on the path, one of the guys from Southern Group emerged from my veranda.
“You’re Joe, the sparky who’s deckying for Skipper this season, right?” he asked me, looking desperate.
“That’s me,” I said easily, dropping the rods on the veranda. I started to hang up my towels and boardies over the rope clothes line.
“The big generator on Basile’s blown and we need to get it fixed. We’ve got freezers full of stuff defrosting, and if we need to get any parts from Gero, we’ll need to know before tomorrow so we can get them on a plane or the carrier boat...” he babbled.
“Sure, I’ll come take a look,” I told him. “Let me get my tools. Did you bring a boat? I’ve only got my tinny.”
“Of course. I’ll give you a lift down, you can stay the night in one of the empty deckie camps, we’ll feed you and bring you back in the morning. Let me know what parts you need and we’ll radio the mainland to send it out tomorrow.” He stood there on my veranda, waiting.
I dumped my snorkelling gear on the veranda by the door and went in. I looked for a clean shirt and didn’t find any, so I went to the laundry and set off a load in the washing machine. I picked up my toolbag and headed out.
“Right, to Basile Island,” I told him.
Vanessa stepped off her jetty as we started down the path to where he’d moored his boat. She’s like a dream I want to keep having, but I have to wake up and go to work.
“I’m sorry,” I told her. “Generator’s blown on Basile in the Southern Group. I’ll grab some lunch down there. I’ll be back tomorrow some time.”
She smiled and nodded. “Some of the best food on the islands is cooked on Basile. Hell, I’d take their cooking over mine any day. Good luck with their generator. See you when you get back.”
The bloke from Basile and I watched her walk down the path, go inside her house and close the door, before either of us said anything else.
“She invited you over for lunch?” he asked, leading the way to the boat.
“Yeah. We both had a weekend off, so we went up to the Wallabis to do some snorkelling and fishing while her crew is over in Geraldton. She needed a hand to handle the boat.” I tried to sound casual as I followed him, trying not to think of what else she’d let me handle.
“Catch anything good?”
“A shark and a couple of gropers.” I made it sound offhand. Don’t ask how big the shark was, or what else we did. I’m still not sure I wasn’t dreaming.
We both climbed onto his boat, where he and the other crewman cast off. We cruised along the anchorage.
Vanessa was on her veranda, taking down some washing. She waved and smiled as we went past.
“You’re playing with fire with that one,” the bloke from Basile warned me.
“She seems real sweet and friendly to me,” I replied. So friendly she spread her legs for me...
“It’s your funeral, mate,” the other bloke chimed in.
Well, it was a quiet trip to Basile Island after that.