The Little Wedding Island: the perfect holiday beach read for 2018. Jaimie Admans

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      He groans again and pitches himself to his feet, staggering upright and clinging on to the back of the seats for support. ‘I’ll make it up to you. I’ll hold a door open or pull out a chair or something.’

      ‘Ah, but we’re in the new millennium now. There’s a rumour going around that women are quite capable of opening doors and seating themselves.’

      His laugh gives way to a groan. ‘You’ve got to stop making me laugh. It’s no good for those of us who are about three seconds away from a full-on Exorcist-style pea soup scene.’

      I laugh even though the mental image is not a good one.

      I carry his bag across the deck and hand that up to the waiting deckhand too, secretly glad that it’s heavy enough to suggest he’ll be staying a few days. I watch him make his way gingerly towards the ladder onto the jetty, swaying unsteadily and grabbing on to anything in his path for support. The boat is bobbing on the waves, and while I find the movement quite soothing, he obviously doesn’t.

      The captain of the boat stands and gives us a salute as we disembark. I clamber onto the first of three ladder rungs and at the top, the jetty is bathed in spring sunshine, and there’s a man waiting to board the boat we’re getting off.

      When Seasick Man makes it to the top of the ladder, he doesn’t look like he’s feeling any better. I reach out to offer him a hand up and he takes it. His hand is cold and his skin is clammy but his touch makes goose bumps rise across my arms where they’re still snuggled in his coat sleeves, and it’s not just because of the coldness.

      ‘Thank you,’ he mumbles, using his grip on my hand to haul himself onto the jetty. He dizzily stumbles into me and I put my other hand on his arm to steady him.

      ‘Enjoy your stay!’ The deckhand of the boat says, saluting us both and jumping back down to the deck.

      The man waiting to board lowers his bag to him and turns to go down the ladder, but he stops and looks at us. ‘You’re not reporters, are you?’

      I go to say something but he barrels on without letting me speak.

      ‘If you are, you may as well give up and go home now. The locals here are barmy. You’d think they’d want publicity, the idiots. If you’re here for a story, save yourselves the trouble and the overpriced stay in that crappy little guesthouse and get back on the boat. You’ll get a better story out of the dead jellyfish on the beach. That vicar’s about as open as a clamshell having a colonoscopy!’

      As he stomps angrily across the deck of the boat and the engine starts up, Seasick Man seems to realise he’s still holding my hand because he lets go abruptly and sinks down to sit on the little wall built around the opposite side of the jetty.

      ‘How would a clamshell have a colonoscopy?’ he says like he’s seriously considering the question.

      It makes me burst out laughing again. ‘I wouldn’t like to imagine,’ I say as I watch the boat with the angry man on it disappearing into the distance. He certainly had a bee in his bonnet about something. Maybe this is what Oliver was saying about reporters not getting anywhere when they came here. Surely the locals will be okay with talking to me? It’s not like I’m a tabloid reporter, I just write about weddings for a bridal magazine.

      Seasick Man drops his head into his hands and exhales slowly.

      ‘Are you okay?’ I ask, even though he’s clearly not.

      ‘Yeah, thanks,’ he says without looking up. ‘That was just a bad boat trip. I’m sorry you had to see that.’

      I wave a hand dismissively even though he’s not looking at me. ‘It’s fine. At least you didn’t puke on me, which is an improvement on another date I’ve been on.’ I blush bright red as I realise what I’ve said. ‘I mean, not that that was a date, obviously…’

      He looks up, squinting at me in the sunshine. ‘You’re just trying to make me feel better.’

      ‘Nope, I honestly went on a date with a guy who turned up so drunk that he threw up on the pavement as he arrived, which splashed my shoes, and they were new, and he promised to pay to get them cleaned, and I never heard from him again.’

      ‘The bastard,’ he says, grinning.

      ‘Right?’ My face is actually aching from how widely I’m smiling at him.

      ‘So you have a history of making men feel ill then?’

      ‘Maybe I’m just doomed to meet guys with weak stomachs.’

      ‘Oi! I don’t have a weak stomach, I just don’t get on very well with boats. Generally I avoid them at all costs, but I couldn’t get out of this trip and I didn’t have time to prepare myself.’

      I press the toes of my shoes alternately against the concrete. I should go – I know that. Now is the time to say it was nice to have met him and leave him in peace when he’s obviously still feeling like death warmed up, but I can’t make the words come out of my mouth.

      ‘You don’t have to stay with the pathetic seasick loser, you know.’ He squints up at me again with a gentle smile. ‘I’m just gonna sit here until I feel marginally less like I’m going to die.’

      ‘I still have your coat,’ I say, even though I could easily take it off and leave it with him.

      ‘Well, considering that was the last boat out today so we’re obviously both staying the night, and I’m told there’s only one B&B on the island, I don’t think you’ll have much trouble finding me to give it back.’

      I know. That’s the problem. I don’t have an excuse to stay with him, but I don’t want to walk away yet. Butterfly wings are beating inside me and my heart is hammering in my chest. I can still feel the imprint of his hand around mine and the smell of his aftershave on his coat is making me decidedly light-headed.

      I sweep his coat under my legs and sit down beside him on the wall. ‘Actually, you still seem really unsteady on your feet. I’d never forgive myself if you toppled over a cliff or something. This island seems really cliff-y.’

      ‘Cliff-y?’ He says with a snort. ‘That’s what my mum calls Cliff Richard when she listens to his music. When all the neighbourhood dogs start yowling, she sticks her head out the window and screams, “Calm down, it’s only Cliff-y!”’

      I can’t remember the last time I laughed so much at someone, especially someone I’ve only known for half an hour.

      When I’ve wiped away tears of laughter and composed myself enough to look up, he’s smiling at me, a wide smile that makes crow’s feet crinkle the corners of his eyes and I have an overwhelming desire to run my fingers across them. He’s funny and he loves his mum. Is he literally the perfect man? His only flaw so far seems to be seasickness, which is really, really far down the list of things you don’t want in a man.

      And I happen to have noticed that he’s not wearing a wedding ring. Of course, you can guarantee he’s got a girlfriend, but for one delicious moment, hope lives inside me.

      ‘I’m Seasick Rohan, by the way.’

      ‘People don’t really call you that, do they?’

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