A short story - "The Island".
Waves lap at the side of boats as they bob in the harbour. Mostly old, doer-upers that you wouldn't trust to carry you across the sea, for fear water would seep through the many holes.
Hannah hauled her backpack over her shoulder and tried to muster some kind of confidence, a brave face, as she questioned for the hundredth time that morning, if she was completely insane.
She clutched at her mums necklace that sat round her neck; a circle of love. A reminder of why she was here.
The advert had said the work placement would only be for three months. As she had packed her bag the day before, it suddenly dawned on her “only” three months was actually quite a length of time to be away from the comforts of home. Or what remained of home anyway.
A reminder that this was why the trip was important. It was why she had applied for the job on the remote island, rooted in the north sea, a few miles from the harbour where she now stood. What do you even pack for a trip like this? Danny, who had conducted the interview, said it was essential to travel light.
“You will have limited space inside the hut, so we suggest nothing bigger than a backpack.”
“Ha ha,” Hannah had laughed before registering the serious look on Danny’s face.
“Oh.”
Clean underwear to last a fortnight, a boat back to the harbour village runs every two weeks for laundry runs and food supplies, vest tops, jogger bottoms and fleece tops that fold small so don’t take up much room. Toiletries next. Hannah had looked longingly at her makeup bag then shook her head. No. That was her old life. Fresh starts began with packing lightly and that was what she was going to do. She picked up her toothbrush, manual, three tubes of toothpaste, 2 in 1 shampoo - conditioner and her hairbrush. Three hair bobbles sat on her wrist and the necklace.
“Are coming on board or not?” Came the gruff voice of the Captain. He didn’t know what a big deal this was for Hannah. She needed a few more minutes to gather her thoughts, but as the salty sea air whipped her hair across the face it was like it was pulling her towards its heart and she took it as a sign. Grabbing her backpack straps even tighter, she pulled on her bobble hat to tame her hair against the elements and climbed on board the small fishing vessel.
This is it. No turning back now.
A green faced Hannah stepped gingerly off the boat after thirty minutes on the choppiest seas she had ever experienced. The Captain kept stealing glances at her on the crossing, shaking his head and chuckling silently. Hannah hadn’t noticed. The pungent smell of mackerel and lobster filled her nostrils as the boat bobbed aggressively against white horses. She was relieved they had reached the Island at last and it was only when both feet were planted firmly on the sturdy rock, did she glance up to view her new surroundings.
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