They explored Bona Bay on Gloucester Island and Breakfast Bay. Once they sailed east through the passage and south to Double and Woodwark Bays and they fished off Edwin Rocks. Maggie caught a Spanish mackerel that day to her intense excitement.
‘I’ve hooked a very large fish, Jack,’ she told him as the trolling line she was manning sang out.
‘You’ve probably hooked a rock,’ he said prosaically.
‘Don’t be silly!’ She was highly indignant. ‘That’s no rock! Will you please slow this boat down so I can reel him in?’
Fortunately they were motoring, not sailing, so he was able to stop and drop the anchor and Maggie was able to get the rod out of its holder and start winding in.
‘Here, you better let me do it.’ He came over to take the rod from her. ‘I think it is a fish.’
‘I told you so, but it’s my fish. Stand aside!’
‘Maggie—’ he was laughing at her ‘—you’ll never handle it.’
‘Oh, yes, I will!’
She nearly didn’t. She wound until her arms and shoulders were screaming in pain, and her face grew scarlet.
‘Don’t bust a gut,’ he warned.
‘It’s nearly in,’ she panted. ‘Oh, there it is—glory be!’ she enthused as the fish leapt out of the water. ‘What a beauty!’
‘Steady on, now.’ He leant over the side of the boat with the gaff in his hands. ‘OK! I’ve got it. Well done!’
Maggie collapsed in a heap and burst into tears.
Jack looked heavenwards, then secured the fish and bent down to scoop her into his arms. He sat down on the padded cockpit seat with her, holding her close. ‘You’re the most stubborn girl I know,’ he said ruefully, ‘but I do admire you. Don’t cry.’ He smoothed the tangle of her hair out of her eyes. ‘You won!’
‘I know.’ She licked some tears from her upper lip and wiped her nose on the back of her hand. ‘I just felt very sorry for it all of a sudden. It put up a great fight. I would have liked to let it go.’
‘Too late now, but it won’t be wasted. Is there any difference between buying fish to eat in a fish shop and catching it yourself?’
She considered. ‘No. No, you’re right. So you’ll cook it?’
‘I won’t waste a scrap of it,’ he promised. ‘Even the carcass will be used for the crab pots and I’ll reserve some for bouillabaisse.’
‘You’re a real hunter-gatherer—aren’t you?’
‘In certain circumstances,’ he agreed.
‘Good. I like that. Ouch.’ She looked at her winding hand. ‘This could be a bit sore for a couple of days.’
‘I have two temporary solutions.’ He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it, then her palm, and gave it back to her. ‘The second solution is probably even more efficacious in the short term.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she began. But he sat her on the cushions and disappeared down below. Two minutes later he emerged with a bottle of champagne and two glasses.
He popped the cork ceremonially and poured the champagne. He handed her her glass and raised his to propose a toast. ‘To a magnificent fighter!’ he said, in the direction of the fish.
‘Hear, hear!’ Maggie agreed and dissolved, this time, into laughter.
He sat down and put his arm around her shoulders. ‘I should have said—to two magnificent fighters.’
She laid her head on his shoulder, feeling more content than she could ever remember.
True to her word, she didn’t move in with him, but apart from the hours she slept in her cabin at the resort, often restless hours, the rest of her time was all spent with him.
When they weren’t walking, sailing, swimming or fishing they puttered around his house, they read, they listened to music, they watched DVDs. Her current choice of reading material amused him.
‘Don’t laugh—I like Harry Potter! And the kids next door are fanatical fans so I have to keep up with the books and we always watch the movies together!’
‘Did I say anything?’
‘You looked—’ She paused. She was snuggled into a corner of one of his settees wearing a long cotton shift, a charcoal background patterned with creamy frangipani flowers. ‘You looked askance. But I read all sorts of books—crime, romance, adventure, although not science fiction generally.’