style="font-size:15px;"> ‘And rupture the membrane?’
‘Instead of your feet? Yes. And we won’t have any more use for her. We’re hardly here to reprovision and set off for the mainland.’
‘But why wreck a perfectly good inflatable?’ She wasn’t about to tell him it might well be needed again. Focus on now.
She clicked her fingers. Boof jumped into her arms and she carted him to shore. Ouch, these stones were sharp! Her shoes were...with the remains of Bertha.
Henry next. ‘Will you let me carry you to Boof?’ she asked him.
‘I’ll take him,’ Matt said but she shook her head.
‘Can you stay at the tiller until we’re unloaded? If we get an unexpected swell the boat might be damaged.’
His eyes had narrowed. ‘So that matters?’
‘That matters.’
He got it. But he glanced at Henry and didn’t comment.
‘You’re not fit enough to...’
‘Lift Henry? Of course I am. Henry, I bet you don’t weigh as much as Boof. Will you let me carry you? You could jump in and walk, like me, but the water’s a bit cold. I think I saw a seal somewhere round the back of these rocks. Boof might show you if you ask.’
But the strangeness of their situation was taking its toll. Henry clutched his seat and held. ‘Our boat burned,’ he said flatly.
‘It did,’ Matt told him. ‘It was a bad accident and we’re lucky Meg brought this little boat along. Now we need to stay here for a bit.’
‘Will you stay?’ Henry demanded and Meg heard raw fear. Matt, then, was more than just his mother’s employer to this little boy. He was the only link Henry had to his past, to an unknown future.
And Matt obviously got that, too. ‘I’ll stay with you,’ he said solemnly, and Meg thought what choice did he have? But Matt didn’t waste time explaining. He simply promised. ‘I said I’ll stay with you until you’re with your grandma and I will. No question, Henry. Now, will you let Miss O’Hara...?’
‘Meg,’ said Meg.
‘Will you let Meg carry you to the shore?’
There was a moment’s thought. Then: ‘Yes,’ Henry said. ‘Yes, please, Miss O’Hara.’
‘Meg,’ Meg said again.
‘Yes, please, Meg,’ Henry said and looped his arms around Meg’s neck and allowed her to carry him.
And why that made her feel like bursting into tears, she had no idea.
* * *
She was amazing.
Half an hour ago she’d been coughing so hard she’d been retching. Now it was as if this were nothing out of the ordinary.
He couldn’t fault her.
While he kept the boat steady she gathered the bag and carted that to shore, as well. Finally she agreed to allow him out of the boat.
‘We need to take the motor off and cart that up the beach, then the water and the bench seats, and then carry the tender itself,’ she told him. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m not strong enough to cart it with the motor attached.’
‘We can’t just anchor?’
‘Too risky—these rocks are sharp. Leave your socks on by the way.’ She was already disconnecting the motor.
‘So we’re being careful of the tender...why?’ Henry was out of earshot now. Boof had met him on the shore and they were both tentatively looking for seals. With his hand on the dog’s collar, Henry seemed to have found courage.
‘If we can get it onto the sand it’ll make a comfy place to sleep,’ Meg told him. ‘With the thermal blankets, we’ll be snug as bugs in rugs.’
‘We’re not expecting rescue tonight?’
‘No.’
‘I would have thought,’ he said almost conversationally, ‘that a burned boat in the middle of Bass Strait, with three stranded passengers and one dog, might mean immediate search and rescue.’ He kicked off his shoes, hitched his trousers and was over the side. ‘You hold the boat. I’ll cart the motor in.’
She was more than happy to let him. Someone had to hold the boat. She’d heaved an outboard motor before, but she was five feet four and slightly built, and even a lifetime of heaving craypots wouldn’t have prevented her from staggering.
So she could only be grateful as Matt disconnected bolts, heaved the motor into his arms and strode through the shallows to the beach.
What sort of New York financier and lawyer was this? One who worked out, obviously.
She’d given them both sou’westers and lifejackets as they’d boarded the boat. Henry was still wearing his, but Matt’s was on the floor of the tender with his shoes. She thought fleetingly of his gorgeous leather jacket, replaced with the sou’wester. It’d be ashes by now, but he wasn’t worrying about a jacket.
He’d hiked up his trousers and rolled his shirtsleeves. He’d taken her advice and was still wearing socks. Another guy might look naff in bare legs and socks, but not this man. He was all hard muscle, lean, toned, ripped. He carted the motor as if it were nothing and, as she held the boat steady, Meg had a sudden fantasy of what it’d be like to be carried by such a man. To be held in those arms...against that chest...
Um...not.
‘Earth to Meg,’ Matt said as he returned, hauling her back to reality. ‘You were explaining why rescue isn’t imminent.’
Time for confession. Just say it.
‘The radio’s not in the bag, nor is our emergency transmitter,’ she admitted. ‘Someone’s head will roll for that.’ Probably not, though, she thought. Charlie was her boss and she was hardly in a position to complain. ‘Our phones don’t work out here. We have no way of saying we’re stranded.’
‘I’d imagine your boss will be checking your position, though. If you don’t make it to Garnett tonight, surely he’ll notice.’
And there was no way she could sugar-coat this. ‘Don’t bet on it. Monitoring the radio takes staff or work, both of which Charlie keeps to a minimum. The reason you were able to hire Bertha at such short notice is that we’re not a flash operation. In fact—’ go on, say it ‘—Charlie runs on the smell of an oily rag. If there’s a corner to cut, he’ll cut it. Bertha’s due back to port by Monday. On Monday night he’ll start wondering.’
‘But not before.’
‘Probably not.’
He didn’t comment. Instead he heaved the water container from under the seat and carried
