Free The Forever Girl by Alexander McCall Smith Page A

his judgement of developers; in fact, he spoke up in favour of them. That was the difference.
    She looked at her watch. They had been anchored for forty-five minutes and there had been no sign of any boat. It was barely noon, and there were another six hours of daylight, but what if nobody came? Who would report them missing? David had no idea where she was and she did not want to ask George whether Alice knew that he was going out in the boat. If she did, then she would raise the alarm and they would send out a search party, but if she did not know, then it could be the next day before anybody came and found them. Did they have enough water, she wondered. And there was no food, although one could last for a long time without anything to eat.
    “You aren’t worried?” he asked.
    “Not really.” She hesitated. “No, maybe a bit.”
    “We’ll be all right. In fact …” He broke off, as he had seen something and was standing up, shading his eyes with his hand. “Yes. Help’s on its way.”
    She stood up too, and he pointed out the direction in which she should look. He took her hand in his, to do so, which was not strictly necessary – he could have pointed. But she felt a stab of excitement at his touch.
    There was a boat in the distance – a powerboat churning the sea behind it, heading their way.
    She squeezed his hand in relief, and he returned the pressure. Then he leaned over and kissed her gently on the cheek.
    “See,” he said. “We’re saved.”
    She felt herself blushing at the kiss, like an innocent schoolgirl. He should not have done it, she thought, because they had agreed, had they not, that they were not going to take this further. But she was glad that he had because the kiss had felt so wrong and so right at the same time.
    As the boat approached, George began to move his arms from side to side in the maritime gesture of distress. Figures could now be made out on the deck of the other boat and there was a response. The boat slowed and changed course towards them.
    “Thank God,” said George.
    “A relief,” said Amanda.
    “I’m going to have to get a new outboard after this,” George said.
    The other boat was a rather larger cruiser, set up for deep-sea fishing, although not sporting any rods. Gingerly it came alongside, taking care to leave sufficient distance so as not to be pushed by the swell on to the anchored boat.
    “What’s the trouble?” asked the man at the controls.
    “Engine failure,” shouted George. “We’ll need a tow.”
    The man nodded. “We’ll throw you a line. Ready?”
    Amanda had been looking at the other skipper. Now she looked at the crew, of whom there were four. With a start she recognised John Galbraith, one of David’s partners in the firm. He saw her at much the same time as she saw him, and he waved.
    “Amanda!” he called out.
    She acknowledged the call.
    “I didn’t expect to see you,” he shouted out. “Are you all right?”
    She cupped her hands and shouted a reply. “Fine. Absolutely fine.”
    John gave the thumbs-up sign and then busied himself fixingthe line to a cleat at the stern of the boat. Then the other end of the line was thrown across to George. It went into the sea the first time, but was retrieved and thrown again. This time it was caught and secured to the bow of the stricken vessel. The anchor was pulled up and the rescuing boat took the strain.
    Progress under tow was slow, but once through the passage in the reef there was little to do but to sit back and wait. Amanda went to the stern and sat by herself, deep in thought. The implications of what had happened were slowly sinking in. The odds against being rescued by somebody she knew were not all that high. The island was small and people knew one another. If she had imagined that she could go anywhere – anywhere at all – and not be spotted, then she was mistaken. Yet it was particularly bad luck that it should be John, of all people. He and David saw one another