Page 61 of Summer in Sunset Harbour
‘It’s a work in progress,’ Tiffany said. ‘There’s a bit of refining to do.’
Josie gave Tiffany a hug, then went down to the excavation site, wanting to see how things were going. It looked more like a construction site now, with plastic sheet fences erected around the site to keep the general public out. The scientists had created their own lane through the trees which emerged behind the reception cabin, but when she knocked on one of the plastic wall panels, someone appeared to let her inside.
There was a general buzz around the people milling about, an infectious excitement that made Josie smile. She watched for a few minutes, then took her leave, heading back up through the campsite to the main road, then along to Nathaniel’s place.
Nat was outside, working on his life-sized carving of an ice-age cave lion. So far, he had only done the head—the body still a gnarled lump of driftwood—but his attention to detail and mastery of proportion were startling.
‘Are you sure you’re really blind?’ she asked after greeting him, getting a chuckle from Nat in response.
‘Just guiding the Lord’s hand,’ Nat said.
‘Is Robinson around?’
‘Inside, scribbling something down.’
She knocked on the shack’s door, calling Robinson’s name. He responded from somewhere inside, and she went in, stepping through the airy, cluttered interior until she saw him, emerging from a bedroom door, his hair neatly combed, a pair of spectacles perched on his head. For the first time that she had seen he wore clean, neat clothing, a pair of grey trousers and a pale blue shirt and tie. He reminded her a little of Harrison Ford in the few Indiana Jones university scenes, a rugged explorer come home to briefly roost.
‘Josie.’ He smiled, warm and welcoming. ‘Sorry not to come to the door. I was just on a video call with Harvard University.’
She coughed. ‘Really?’
‘Yes, but I’m done now. Coffee?’
‘Please.’
She followed him through into Nat’s cluttered and cramped kitchen. In addition to the usual crockery and utensils, piles of pretty stones and shells covered the work surfaces, while bits of old fishing net hung from the walls. Some small fish and clumps of seaweed—which may have been decoration, may have been food—were hung up near a grimy, salt-clad window.
Robinson located the coffee and boiled the kettle. In the little cubicle space they were thrillingly close.
‘I heard Cathy Ubbers is planning to change the launderette’s name,’ Robinson said.
‘Really?’
‘The Lion-drette,’ he said.
‘Are you serious?’
‘She is,’ he said. ‘Queen Josephine is going to change the whole face of this village. You don’t mind, do you? It was the first name that came into my mind when they asked. Dad agreed, and it stuck.’
‘Do I mind you making me immortal? Not at all.’
‘I’m glad.’
‘You said it was … the first name that came into your mind?’
Robinson turned to face her. Behind him, the kettle started to bubble. A seagull squawked from the roof above them, its feet scraping on the corrugated iron roof.
‘I’ve kind of had you on my mind a lot lately,’ Robinson said.
‘I’ve … been thinking about you, too.’
‘Is that right?’
Josie nodded. ‘I wondered if you wanted to … you know, get a drink?’
Robinson held up two mugs. ‘I’m guessing you don’t mean these?’
‘That would do for a start.’
