Ferry

Ferry

Jane sat on a plastic bench by the harbour, waiting for the boat that would take her to the island.

"I'm waiting for Josephine, Miss," said an elderly man as he sat beside her. Jane sighed inwardly. She did not feel like talking and after all, she did not know this man sitting beside her, nor did she know anyone called Josephine.

"She'll be on the next ferry," he continued, "Are you taking the next ferry?" His voice was pleasant, lilting and light. Jane glanced at her watch; she still had two hours to wait. Dilemma was upon her, she wanted quiet, she wanted to be on her own. Still, a question had been asked and a reply was needed.

"Yes," she responded in a quiet voice, "I'll be taking the next ferry." He nodded and seemed satisfied. It lulled him into a thoughtful silence. Jane took the opportunity in this silence to steal a quick glance at him. He was of a grandfatherly age, his face lined with wrinkles and his pale blue eyes reflected sadness. He wore a crisp, black suit with a white shirt and black tie. His black shoes were polished so thoroughly that you could see your face in them. His attire was a bit bizarre for a stroll by the harbour. He seemed to be wearing the sort of clothes you would wear to a funeral. Jane thought she'd snatched a brief glance but when his eyes met hers she realised she must have been staring. She smiled quickly and a little too widely hoping it would serve as an apology.

The sea lapped lazily at the side of the harbour and the sun shone down on them. Jane liked this man; he reminded her that she was without a grandfather and that he might do the job well. In a bid to pass the time away more quickly Jane attempted to find out a bit more about him.

"Who is Josephine?" he looked startled when she asked this question.

"Josephine is the girl I am waiting for." This reply was a little cryptic but his voice contained love. "Why are you going to the island?" he asked Jane attempting to take the conversation away from Josephine.

"I have sort of ...... run away. I need some time and space to help sort things out in my head." He nodded as though he knew exactly what Jane was talking about.

"The island is a good place for quiet thinking," he said in a melancholy voice. Jane was still curious about Josephine.

"Does Josephine live on the island?"

"Not any more, she's coming back now on the ferry you'll be taking over there."

"Is she your wife?"

"No!" After a few minutes of silence Jane spotted the ferry approaching.

"Can you see her?" she asked, watching his blue eyes scan and scour the figures on the deck and on the gangplank. "Josephine, is she there?" But he was too busy combing the crowd to answer.

Now the deck was deserted, the gangplank bare and the passengers dispersed. He turned to Jane.

"I'm waiting for Josephine," he told her looking disorientated and down. Jane felt concerned for him and cross with Josephine.

"Why don't I take the next ferry? I could wait with you." Jane suggested.

"No, no, the island awaits you. I'm waiting for Josephine, she'll be here soon. Perhaps she'll be on the next ferry?"

Jane shuffled and wished him well. He said good luck but his watery eyes were elsewhere, forever scanning. As the ferry moved she watched his figure diminish. A part of her wanted to be back