Paradise Calling: PREVIEW

2. The desert island

By the time they reached shore Caroline was nearly in a trance from exhaustion and the endless pulling of the oar. They hadn't bothered to give Mr Ferguson a turn what with all his grumbling. If he found simply sitting there a strain, how on earth was he going to pull the boat through the water?

"Are you okay?" Andrew Grant asked Caroline. There was concern in his eyes. "That was a huge effort you managed, getting us to shore."

"You too," Caroline said. Everything ached. Her hands were blistered and raw, and stung from the salt. She could feel that her shoulders were sunburnt. She had managed to get a bit of a tan before, which might have helped, but she knew they were going to be sore later.

She wanted nothing more than to go and lie on the sand and pass out. To wake up hopefully rescued in a nice, safe bed somewhere.

All her things were sunk with the boat. Clothes, make-up, books, phone. Not that her phone would have worked out here anyway. She had only the clothes she wore: a sundress over a bikini. Her lips felt cracked and dry. She reached into the pocket of the dress and was relieved to find a nearly-new Chapstick. There were some advantages to being a lip balm addict.

It soothed her skin as she applied it and she noticed her Mr Grant looking at her. "Do you need some?" she asked him.

"That would be very kind. We're all going to be horribly sunburnt." He used the balm and handed it back to her. At school this would have been a huge sensation. She could have charged money for other girls to use it after Mr Grant had used it.

But that was frivolous to think of at this moment. Now everything was about survival.

Any hopes of finding people and habitation were shattered as they landed. The beach was deserted. There wasn't a trace of any human activity, which meant it was unlikely this island had any villages or resorts on it. Caroline tried not to let her spirits sink but it wasn't easy.

Andrew Grant tried to rally his fellow castaways. "We'll take a tour of the island after we've rested. We may have landed on an undeveloped part. There could be people not far away."

He waded out of the boat, waiting for Mrs Ferguson to pick her way gingerly through the shallows. Then he and Mr Ferguson, finally roused to action, hauled the boat up onto the beach. Andrew Grant did the lion's share of the work.

A closer inspection of the lifeboat uncovered some provisions and a basic survival kit. It contained flares, storm-proof matches, a multi-tool, fish-hooks, a first-aid kit and some survival rations. Enough to fend off starvation for a couple of days, if they eked them out.

Derek Ferguson assumed charge of these. "I think we have enough provisions for the present," he said. "We can possibly find fruit and other foods on the island, even if it is not inhabited. Regrettably there are only two survival blankets." These were made of some thin, lightweight fabric, the kind of thing you would find at a camping store. There were no other items. Not even a bag or sack.

"I assume that you and Irene will have one. Caroline can take the other. The nights aren't overly cool at this time of year," Andrew Grant said.

Caroline felt bad. "We can share it," she suggested. Then she went bright red realising how this must sound. She couldn't bring herself to look at Mr Grant.

The headmaster made it worse. "That would be most improper," Mr Ferguson said. "The girl must have it, and Mr Grant can make do with other items."

Caroline wanted to sink through the floor. Or the sand, since that was underfoot.

"Perhaps Mr Grant could take shelter in the boat," volunteered Mrs Ferguson gingerly. She was a timid woman whose shyness was exacerbated by her forceful and pompous husband. She and her husband had no children, due to Mr Ferguson viewing them as a hindrance to his career plans. Having achieved the headship of St Daniel's, he now aspired to the presidency of the Headmasters' Conference.