I’d driven her to the airport in silence and hadn’t even hugged her goodbye. Maybe the time in Ireland would do her some good, give her some perspective on how she had handled raising her two girls. I doubted it, but hoped for it nonetheless.

An exclamation from Ashling brought me back to the present. She had just found the private bar. I rolled my eyes, then wandered into the bathroom. I stared in shock at the mirror.

My neck was black and purple, with red crescent moons where Grandpa’s fingers had sliced me. “Well that is just gorgeous,” I muttered.

Ashling followed me in and I turned away from the mirror. The tub was easily big enough for two people, and the tile in the room was a beautiful white with flecks and veins of gold running through it.

Ashling hugged me. “You’re the best.”

“Don’t have to tell me that,” I said, and hugged her back. “You remember that the next time you throw a fit about me eating the last cookie.”

She laughed, and went back to the main room where the king-sized bed took up a large portion of it. I went to the window and stared out at the beach below us. Chesterman Beach was known for its waves and surfing. That’s why we were here. Ashling wanted to learn how to surf; she was hoping to go to Hawaii next year, and wanted to know how to ride the waves before she played tourist.

Sweat trickled down my back despite the air conditioning. I’d never told Ashling how badly I was afraid of the water after my accident. Didn’t think I needed to.

“Dum, dum.” She grumbled. “Dum, dum.” My back stiffened, and my gut clenched. “Dum, dum, dum, dum, dum, dum.”

The Jaws theme did not impress me; I spun on her.

“Not funny Ashling. Next time you get dragged around by a shark let’s see how you like watching Jaws,” I said, striding away from the window.

“Oh lighten up Quinn, you’ve got a little wee scar, and you haven’t gone in the water since. This will be good for you,” she said, unpacking her bag, and hanging her clothes up.

“I’m going to go find out about a surfing instructor, preferably one that will let you drown,” I said.

She laughed and I strode out of the room, slamming the door behind me. She would think I was playing, not really angry, and she would be right. I wasn’t angry, but it was a good cover for the fear that had spiked through me. I really didn’t want to go into the water.

The concierge gave me a few numbers, and I stepped outside to call the Surfing Schools. After dialling through to five and leaving messages, I finally spoke to a real person.