The island between us, p.1
The Island Between Us, page 1
Table Of Contents
Other Books by Wendy Hudson
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Other Books from Ylva Publishing
About Wendy Hudson
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Other Books by Wendy Hudson
Meant to Be Me
Mine to Keep
Four Steps
Dedication
To Lynsey—the person I know I’d survive being stranded with
Chapter 1
New Year’s Eve, 1999
The world was going to end at midnight.
That was the headline that greeted Georgia on landing back in Scotland. Rather than the usual talk of prosperity and resolutions, the millennium bug had taken hold of the wildest imaginations and the press were happy to feed them.
Georgia didn’t believe any of it, yet she still boarded a bus to a small town in the north-east of Scotland with the idea that if the world were to end, she wanted to be somewhere she loved.
Three hours later, after replenishing supplies, her feet hit the dense sodden sand of Balmedie Beach. She breathed in the salt-soaked air, filled her lungs with it as she scanned the towering dunes ahead. The further apart her visits became, the more the dunes seemed to shift and move, moulded by the powerful storms that rolled relentlessly off the North Sea.
Georgia knew them as innately as the lines on her palms, the patterns of pathways cutting through and across the sandy mountains burned into memories from toddler to teenager. She shifted the weight of her backpack and pulled her hood a little tighter before heading for the highest peak. The breeze whipped tufts of sea grass against her legs as she climbed, and the sand became dryer, finer, causing her to intermittently skid a few steps backwards every time she lost traction.
As she crested the brow and the rolling grey waves came in to view, she loosened her hood and let the wind tear it down. It splayed her hair at every angle as she threw her arms up to the skies and tilted her head back.
At twenty-two, Georgia had already travelled across more than thirty countries, but she had yet to find somewhere able to assault her senses in quite the same way as the battering, cutting, wind and rain of her homeland.
“Wooooooooo!”
Her shout caught and drifted away on a gust. She smiled and took off down the other side of the dune, her legs propelling her the way she remembered as a kid. Almost too fast, out of her control, the only option to go with them until the dune faded along with her momentum.
She set off across the beach at a brisk pace. It was only early afternoon, but the light was fading fast, and by four o’clock it would be lost. Coves and crags stretched ahead, one in particular calling to her. There was never going to be any competition on New Year’s Eve for the cove that was her destination.
She dropped her bag and plonked her arse down on top of it, taking in the view and stretching her legs out after the workout crossing the sand. The cove sheltered her on three sides, and the surrounding dunes offered further relief from the prevailing wind.
“Fire. Water. Shelter. Food,” she muttered, running through what she would need to see out the night in freezing temperatures. “Get your tent up. Gather wood. Put hot water on. Stay dry.”
Georgia set about her tasks with conscientious efficiency. More than a decade of practice in a multitude of wild situations had already honed the basics. It had been her way of life since childhood and was as much a routine to her as it was for others to pop the kettle on or flick on a light switch.
Her trusty bow drill would expend a lot of energy in these challenging conditions, but she always kept a small tin of dry tinder, and within a few strikes of a flint, Georgia had the beginnings of a fire warming her fingers. She fed it slowly, building the heat until it could take a hefty-sized log and she was able to finally sit back and relax.
The setting sun had long ago split the grey sky with hues of orange and red that rippled and glowed through the twilight, stretching the horizon. The clearing mist gave form to the dozen or so boats in the distance that had anchored for the night or waited for their spot in the harbour. It was a scene she was familiar with, the coastline twinkling with the lights and shadows of ships and trawlers, from Aberdeen to Fraserburgh, and beyond.
The repetitive crunch of sand nearby caught her attention.
The wind took the sound away for a moment, but when she heard it again it was closer and seemed to be speeding up. Georgia stepped from her shelter and rounded the dune as a girl came in to view, her arms and legs pumping furiously as she sprinted as if being chased.
Georgia flinched as she eventually stumbled to a stop thirty metres or so away and doubled over, one arm across her stomach, the other propped against her knee. She couldn’t tell if the girl was about to be sick or was trying to catch her breath.
The heaving sobs drifting her way answered the question. The girl stood upright, closed her eyes and turned towards the crashing surf. With her head tilted to the brooding sky, she let out a strangled scream. It tore the air with anger and desperation. Georgia took a few steps towards the girl as she screamed again, consumed with a need to console her.
But she held back from calling out, unsure whether to intrude on the moment and feeling awkward that the other girl was unaware of her presence. Trepidation fluttered in her stomach as the stranger began kicking at pebbles and seaweed, inching her way towards the water. Whitewash lapped the toes of her trainers before fully encasing her feet to her ankles.
As the frigid water began to hit her shins, she strode more determinedly, as if the icy onslaught wasn’t even registering, slapping her hands against the incoming waves and shouting unintelligibly at the moon.
What the hell is she doing?
Georgia’s reticence disappeared as she picked up her pace, cupped her hands around her mouth, and shouted, “Hey!”
The stranger stumbled as the water swept around her upper thighs and Georgia broke into a run, panic building along with her heart rate as she tried to fathom the girl’s intentions.
“Stop!” she called out again. “What the hell are you doing? Get out of the water.”
The girl twisted around, clearly startled by Georgia’s presence, and lost her footing again as another wave broke. The water fully engulfed her as she fell, sucking her further out to sea. She cried out and began to choke on the salty onslaught.
“Fuck.” Georgia tore off her jacket and jumper as she ran. She braced against the shock of cold and her breath came rapidly through gritted teeth as her legs smashed through the surf between them. She tried to time the waves, planting her feet as each one thumped against her in an attempt to stay upright for as long as possible.
Her progress was steady, but it didn’t feel quick enough as her determined stare stayed pinned on the girl, who continued to thrash and claw at the air in a futile attempt to find some sort of firm footing. Georgia cried out when the girl’s head went under and only hesitated a moment before she dived forward below the next wave, aiming for the same spot.
The salt stung her eyes and there was no visibility. Georgia surfaced and sucked in a gulp of air before diving straight back down again, her hands searching blindly until finally they grabbed hold of the girl.
Georgia yanked them both to the surface, twisted the girl’s jumper in her fist, and thrust them towards the shore as the girl flailed and choked. Her feet eventually found the seabed, and she was able to hook the girl under the arms before half lifting, half dragging, her mercilessly beyond the sea’s grasp.
They fell back on the sand in a tangle of leaden limbs, breathless and soaked.
Georgia was the first to recover. “Shit, are you okay?”
She sat up and reached out a hand to pull the girl up beside her, but she scrambled away, still heaving for breath and spitting out water.
Georgia frowned and rubbed furiously at her arms as a mixture of cold and shock prickled them with goose bumps. “What the hell were you doing going in the water on a night like this?”
The girl looked to be younger than Georgia, maybe eighteen or nineteen, with long blonde hair now drenched and caked in sand. Her pale skin was blotched from crying and her lips had taken on a worrying tinge of blue.
A baseball cap hung from her ponytail and she fumbled to get it back on her head, pulled it lower over her brow, and waved dismissively in Georgia’s general direction as she shuffled further away.
“I’m fine,” she mumbled. “Please leave me alone.”
“Are you kidding me? Someone who’s fine doesn’t go for a December swim in the North Sea fully clothed.”
Her words met the top of the girl’s head as she bowed it to her chest, pulled her knees to her chin, and wrapped her arms around them.
“You scared me, and I fell. That’s all.” The words were whispered, yet somehow laced with annoyance.
“Are you saying it’s my fault?” Georgia was incredulous.
“No, that’s not what I meant. Please.” Red-rimmed eyes peeked from under the cap and bore into Georgia. “Thank you for helping, but I want to be on my own.”
There was no way on earth Georgia was going to leave the girl, a sodden, frozen heap in the sand. A shiver ran through her again as she became acutely aware of her own wet clothes. She stood and reached out a hand. “No chance. Come and get warmed up.”
The girl squeezed her arms tighter and rocked back a little, staring out at the spot Georgia had dragged her from.
Georgia kept her hand out. “You don’t have to talk to me, but at least let me stop you catching hypothermia. My camp is over behind that dune.”
She looked at Georgia’s hand suspiciously, but when it was clear Georgia wasn’t going anywhere, she eventually slipped her own into it. Worried she might try to run off, Georgia let the girl walk a step or two in front of her as she gathered her discarded clothing and they headed to the camp.
Dread sat heavy in Georgia’s stomach and she had no idea what to say. What was this girl running away from? What might have happened if Georgia hadn’t been there? Would she have kept wading into the sea until it swallowed her whole?
Dark jeans, high tops, and a pink hoodie were her only protection apart from the hat, and the clothes now hung heavy with water off her small frame.
Okay, think survival, Georgia. She’s cold and potentially hypothermic, so the first thing is to get us both warm. Fresh clothes, then feed the fire, and make a hot drink. Take it one step at a time.
As they reached the camp, the girl curiously surveyed Georgia’s set-up. She pulled her sleeves down over her hands and inched a little in the direction of the fire. “What on earth are you doing out here? Are you camping in this weather?”
Georgia laughed at the surprise in the question given what she had just witnessed. “Are you paddling in this weather?”
That wasn’t the whole story, and the weight of what had happened stifled the air between them, stretched a moment’s silence until it was clear Georgia’s question wasn’t going to be answered. The girl looked down, avoiding Georgia’s gaze, and her body began to shake.
Georgia pulled a small towel from the top pocket of her rucksack and waved the girl closer. “Here, take this. Come and get some heat while I find you dry clothes.”
She took the towel without a word and removed her hoodie. Her T-shirt clung to her torso and goose bumps pebbled her arms.
As Georgia rummaged for extra layers and a blanket, the girl vigorously rubbed at her hair and face, gradually gravitating towards the fire. With a tentative smile, she accepted the trousers and thick woollen jumper Georgia offered.
“Thanks.”
“I’ll go collect some more wood while you change.”
Georgia put a dune between them and half-heartedly gathered a few pieces of driftwood. She hoped the girl would still be there when she returned, but her mind whirled wondering what to say and do if she was. Should she call someone? She’d only recently bought a mobile phone and wasn’t even sure it would have battery, never mind signal. She had no car but would happily find a way of getting her to a safe place.
Georgia had told her she didn’t have to talk, so maybe she should stick to that. Focus on warming her up, making her feel protected, and see where it led.
She returned as the girl was shrugging into Georgia’s favourite jumper, a deep green, Fair Isle design that her father had brought her from Shetland. The clothes were a couple of sizes too big and she’d had to roll the trouser legs up. She seemed to shrink even more beneath them, and barefoot, with her hair now hanging freely, innocence emanated from her.
Georgia couldn’t imagine who or what would have caused her to be so reckless.
“Are you going to tell me why you’re camping out here on New Year’s Eve?” The girl kept her eyes on the fire, rotating her hands and wiggling her fingers, and Georgia wasn’t sure if she really cared whether she got an answer or if she was merely trying to distract from talking about herself.
“I didn’t have anywhere else to be and I love to camp. The weather isn’t an issue if you’re prepared.” Georgia kept busy and quickly changed her own clothes before salvaging a couple of tin mugs from her pack along with a small pot of chocolate powder.
As she added hot water to the mugs, she decided making this girl safe might not only mean giving her warmth. She needed to find out what had driven her towards the darkened depths of the sea.
“I’m Georgia, by the way.” She handed over one of the mugs with a smile. “Fancy telling me what that was back there? Maybe I can help.”
“Thanks.” She cupped her hands tightly around the mug. “But I’d rather not.”
Georgia tried another tactic. “You know, if someone’s hurt you, or if you’re in trouble… Maybe talking will help you find a way out? A different way out other than…you know…” Georgia struggled to find the words to console or reassure.
A soft gaze met Georgia’s, filled with sorrow and what seemed like a small measure of embarrassment. “I’m not about to run back into the sea if that’s what you’re thinking. I told you I didn’t mean to go out that far.”
“I’m not thinking that.” Georgia looked for another way to let her know she could talk. “You know I’m not judging you, right? I mean, I don’t know you or anything about your life.”
“I know. I…” She spun the cup in her hands and sighed. “I lost myself for a minute there, that’s all. I just had this urge to…” She shrugged. “I don’t know what I was thinking, but I’ll be okay. You don’t have to worry.”
“Can I at least try to call someone? Take you somewhere?”
The girl shook her head. “Please, I’m all right. I really don’t want to talk about it. Can I just stay here a while and be quiet?”
Georgia wasn’t about to let her slip away back in to the night until she was sure she meant what she said. That it had been accidental, that she’d been startled, and that her rash foray into the water had been nothing more than a misguided mistake.
“Aye, of course you can.”
There didn’t seem to be anything else that would change the girl’s mind about accepting further help, but she could at least offer her a little solace. “Will you at least tell me your name?”
For some reason, the question elicited a glare of suspicion. “How about we don’t do that either.”
For a second Georgia thought she was joking, but her expression stayed neutral, still not meeting Georgia’s gaze as her eyes fixed firmly on the flames lapping close to her fingers.
“Huh. I share my precious Swiss hot chocolate and I don’t even get a name? Some people are so ungrate—”
Georgia had thought her tone was teasing, but the girl blew out an exasperated breath before clunking her mug down on a rock.
“You know what? Don’t worry about it.” She started tugging the jumper over her head, her voice muffled beneath it. Still she raged in Georgia’s general direction. “Take the bloody clothes. Keep the hot chocolate. I don’t need anything from you. I don’t need anything from anyone. I’ll… Oh for fuck sake…”
Georgia tried not to laugh when she realised the girl was stuck.
