Ch23: Stolen June 16th-28th

June 16th

 

I pack a lunch and spend the day with Wally and his friends. They come and go, returning with their beaks full of tiny fishes for their babies. I’m amazed at how fast their flap their wings, for such an awkward and comical looking bird they are actually quite graceful.

 

June 17th

 

I miss everyone today. I spend the day wandering in and out of the cottage. I’m restless and don’t know what to do. Exploring the ruins takes up part of the day. The most dilapidated three have almost gone back to nature, only low walls survive. Plants grow where rooms used to be, and I notice that these plants and bigger and healthier than the ones growing without the shelter of the ruin. I sit in one of them, watching boats come and go, wishing I could hitch a ride on one of them. I don’t understand the need to keep me here. After writing out what happened to Chris I feel fine. Screw the shrink, when Ian comes back I’m going to insist he takes me back.

 

June 20th

 

I can’t stand the loneliness anymore. Every morning I wake wishing Ian has decided to come back early to rescue me from this enforced solitude.

 

June 27th

 

Friday today. Tomorrow Ian will be here. The sea is calm, I go down to the pier, already waiting and watching for Ian’s boat. I pray the sea will stay calm and the weather won’t stop him from coming.

June 28th

 

I’m up early. All night long I kept waking, dreaming Ian was on Vanir already. I shove the sofa back into the middle of the room and skip down to the pier. It’s far too early for him, but I put the binoculars to my eyes and check for his boat anyway. The ferry is making its way south. There are a few fishing boats on their way out past Bressay. But no Ian yet.

I return to the cottage and scramble up the last of the eggs. There’s no bread for toast, I used the last of that days ago. I do have crackers, though, and they make an acceptable substitute.

After hurriedly eating, I go up to the top of the hill. The day is warm and even though it’s early, I find my jumper too warm. He’s not on his way yet, but he likes to come early, so I keep putting the binoculars to my face and hoping to see his little boat.

Finally, I see a white and blue boat that I know is Ian. I drop the binoculars, they bounce on the strap around my neck, but I hardly notice. Ian’s coming, and I feel my heart jump at the thought of him being here, with me. I race back to the cottage and make sure it’s clean and tidy. Then I go to the pier and sit at the end, legs crossed, face to the sun, and wait.

Over the past two weeks I’ve had my diary out, but all I did was note the day before hiding it away again. I feel healed. Maybe Dad’s therapist was right, I needed that extra two weeks. Now it’s time to go home. There’s only so much alone time a person can have before they have had enough, and I know I’ve reached my limit. And I can only have so many conversations with Wally before even I decide I’ve gone bonkers.

The boat draws up to the pier and I stand up. I can’t hide the big smile on my face. Ian grins back and as soon as he disembarks I jump at him and hug him tight.

“So good to see you,” I whisper in his ear.

Ian pulls me back and kisses me gently. “Good to be back.” He extricates himself from my embrace. “Help me get the supplies.”

“Leave them there.” I grab his hand and pull him towards the cottage. “I’ve packed up and I’m ready to go.”

“I’m not sure you’re ready…”

“Oh, I am. I’m going a bit crazy being on my own. I’m feeling so much better, but it really is time to go now.”

Ian pulls free and returns to the boat. “I still need to get the supplies to the cottage. You know, to restock the cabinets.”

“Okay,” I say, but there’s an uneasy feeling growing in my belly. “You will take me home afterwards.”

“Well, not immediately. I only just got here.” He climbs back into the boat and starts handing out bags.

“So you’ll take me back this afternoon.”

Ian leans against the wheel and sighs. “Look, your parents don’t want you back yet.”

“What do you mean?” There’s a seed of panic growing in me.

“Don’s making progress with the therapist, but wants more time. They need you to stay here.” He hands over the last of the groceries.

“I don’t care. I want off the island. I’ll stay on Mainland. I’ve got all my money, I’ll stay in a hotel until they’re ready for me to come home.”

“This is awkward…”

“What’s awkward? It’s simple. You take me back to Lerwick and I’ll stay out the way until they want me back.” I put my hands on my hips and glare at him.

“I’ve spoken with your parents a number of times and to tell you the truth they feel they can’t handle you right now. I promised them I’d hold you here, where you’re safe.”

“Safe? From what?” I’m hurting inside. My parents don’t want me, they want to keep me here on the island where what… I can’t cause any more trouble?

Ian climbs off the boat and puts his hands on my shoulders. “I didn’t want to tell you, but you’re being so instant.”

I’m fighting the tears back, taking gulping breaths. “I don’t care. I want off the island.”

“Maybe I should just go now. It’ll make it easier for you if I don’t stay the night.” Ian turns to get back on the boat. “I’ll help you get the coal up to the cottage then I’ll head straight back.”

“No!” I speak louder than intended, almost shouting. “Stay, please don’t go. I need you here for the night.”

Ian doesn’t do anything for a moment. Then he grabs the sack of coal and lifts it onto the pier. “If you’re sure it’s not going to cause you more anxiety.”

“No, it won’t, I promise you.” I’m reeling inside. How could my parents abandon me so easily? Did I cause that much trouble that they want me kept away? I thought I was a pretty good teen; friends of mine were far more badly behaved than me. “Please, stay the night.”

Ian nods slowly. “Okay, I will. But only because you asked me.”

I wipe the tears from my face and pick up some of the shopping. I don’t head straight off, but wait for Ian to do the same. He might change his mind now the supplies are off the boat and go while I’m up in the cottage. Together we walk up the path.