Island Life

She realised that she had come to a decision while washing up. Jim need never know. All she needed was an excuse to get to the mainland for a bit, find the right clinic, and then it would be heigh-ho back to the island, back to sanity. Again tears threatened to push themselves out, but she forced them back. Strength was what was needed here, and she had found over the years that she had it in abundance.

The house was quiet, only the occasional rattle from the cellar breaking the silence. At least Meg was helping out with the chores now. It hadn't been that long ago that the girl was going through the usual teenage trauma - the tantrums and arguments made worse by the fact that there was no one of her own age around, no-one to back her up in the endless rows against stubborn parents.

Nowadays she had settled down, and Meg hoped that the blossoming relationship with Duncan would come to fruition. Even though he was almost old enough to be Meg's father he seemed to have his head screwed on the right way.

She stood for a while, just drinking in the peace and quiet of the house. This was how she liked it - no tourists, no customers, just her and her house.

She couldn't remember when it had become "her" house rather than "their house", but that was how she now thought of it - her small place of sanity in a mad world. When she watched the nightly news she was increasingly glad that they had chosen to stay here.

It had been like a dream come true all those years ago when they had got the job.

'It's only for a six month trial period,' the man had said, and she had seen the look in his eyes. He didn't believe that two hippies, however cleaned up they might be, had the necessary strength for the job.

But they had proved him wrong. Oh, it had been hard at first, but not as hard as the winter they spent in the tent.

She smiled to herself as she remembered "the old days". That's how both she and Jim thought of them. Not "the good old days". No, there had been little good about them.

If they hadn't genuinely loved each other they would never have survived. But there had been something comical about Jim sneaking off in the middle of the night to milk John Jeffries' cow. Old John had been on short milk rations all winter, and he never twigged.

Sometimes, in the bar, when she had to put up with the farmer's boorish behavior, she was tempted to tell him. But it remained their little secret, something to giggle over in the depths of the night.

A further rattle of bottles from the cellar brought her back to the present.

She glanced at the clock and was surprised to find that the morning had almost gone - she might not remember doing the washing up, but she had certainly taken long enough about it.

Jim would be back soon, stinking from cleaning out the septic tank and demanding "munchies". Well he was just going to have to make do with what came to hand - she was in no mood for slaving over a hot stove.

She went to the cupboard, and discovered that she had some work to do anyway - the vegetable rack was empty. She was sure that she'd had some carrots the night before. And then she remembered Jim's midnight snack.