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and dark eyes. The other haloed by a wild mane of hair. He was trying not to laugh.
    â€˜I’m fine,’ I said. I wanted to cry.
    â€˜Aran was being a plane,’ the dark-haired boy explained. He spoke with a broad Aussie accent.
    I turned to see the little boy leaping like a puppy, getting underfoot, while Red tried to carry a box of supplies up from the boat. Uncle Red stumbled.
    â€˜Edith! Enough gasbagging! Get this kid out of my way!’
    I turned, uncertain. Neither of the boys seemed fazed by Red’s sharpness.
    â€˜I’ll take your pack,’ the blond guy said, extending a muddy hand. ‘I’m Leon, by the way.’
    I nodded. ‘ Edie .’
    I squelched back down the jetty and took hold of Aran’s hand.
    He twisted from my grasp. I grabbed him again and held him tighter.
    He swung around and punched me in the ribs.
    â€˜Ouch!’ I let go and he was off, running back up the jetty into the mangroves. ‘Do I get paid a damages allowance for this gig or what?’ I muttered. ‘I should have taken out a health insurance policy.’
    I jumped, startled, when, from behind me, Uncle Red growled. ‘There ’s no place for you here if you can’t handle a four-year-old.’
    He said it with such contempt that every single stubborn cell in my body flared Oh yeah? We’ll see about that .

    The house was not at all what I had envisaged. Maybe I should have been more realistic, but an island called Thirteen Pearls conjures up visions of a long, low-slung South Seas colonial homestead, wrapped with wide, gracious verandahs and ornamented with iron lace.
    Okay, so the iron lace wasn’t such a great idea in a place so susceptible to rust, but it was a good fantasy. What I’d arrived at was a house that was in fact a large Colorbond shed. A skillion roof jutted out from one side, sheltering sun-cracked plastic outdoor furniture. Across the dirt path were two canvas tents on wooden platforms that I assumed were for the boys.
    Inside the shed, Aran found a patch of bare concrete and sat down to tear the stuffing out of a cushion. In the back corner, the kitchen overflowed with dirty dishes, pots and pans. There was not a single scrap of clear bench space. A trail of ants swarmed around the sink and cockroaches sauntered over the festering piles of dishes.
    They had to be kidding.
    The dark-haired boy walked in, glanced at Aran and the disembowelled cushion, and shrugged. ‘Welcome to paradise.’
    I nodded, speechless.
    â€˜I’m Kaito.’
    â€˜Yeah, I’m Edie. I’m Red’s—’
    â€˜Niece, we know. Leon and I’ve been making bets on how long you’d be staying for.’
    â€˜What are the stakes?’
    â€˜Full charter of a dive boat off Cairns on the first full moon in November.’
    â€˜When the reef spawns?’
    He nodded. ‘I’m told it’s like underwater fireworks.’
    I smiled. ‘Better.’
    Kaito raised a fine dark eyebrow. ‘You’re a diver?’
    â€˜Got my PADI Rescue Diver certification and I’ll be going for Divemaster on my birthday.’
    â€˜I’ve done my Open Water Scuba Instructor,’ Kaito said.
    Mentally, I stuck out my tongue; he was two up from me. Instead, I said, ‘Is that what you want to do? Be a dive instructor?’
    He shook his head. ‘Been diving since I was a kid. Now it’s useful for my degree.’
    â€˜What are you studying?’
    â€˜I’m at the James Cook University studying marine biology, specialising in molluscs.’
    Leon clattered into the shed and dropped an overloaded cardboard box with a satisfying thump to the floor. ‘This guy tell you he’s practically pearling royalty?’
    I looked at them both blankly: had Leon made a joke for which I hadn’t figured out the punch line?
    Kaito gave Leon a friendly punch on the shoulder, drawing my attention to Leon’s smooth