I sit in the sand with my legs crossed and watch Harry jab randomly at the sea water with his spear, flinching each time the water sprays back at him. My heart rate has just about eased after my incident in the water although I'm not sure my pride will ever fully recover.

The fire crackles beside me; another act of kindness from Harry. With our original firewood dried out and plenty more kindling available as a result of the storm - making a fire had been easier this time and Harry had insisted it was necessary anyway in case he caught a fish. A good omen perhaps?

"You feeling better?" He calls over his shoulder before slicing into the water again. He'll be a prune all over if he stays out there for much longer.

"Yes, thank you." I call back and scoot closer to the curling flames. The light has dimmed now so regardless of his prune-status, he won't be able to keep it up much longer anyway. My stomach growls in protest of my thoughts and I wrap my arms around myself in an attempt to silence it.

What I'd give right now for a McChicken Sandwich, large fries and a strawberry milkshake. And maybe some cheese bites too. I feel my lips curl into a smile as I wonder what Harry's regular Maccies order is. Or if he even eats McDonalds. He's not one of those raw-organic-clean-eating-only celebrities, right?

There's suddenly a lot of frantic shouting and splashing.

My eyes dart up and focus on Harry who is jumping around in the water, waving his stick in the air like a super-fan at a concert. "What's happened?" I shout, pulling myself to my feet. "What is it?"

Even from here I can see the grin stretch out across his face. "I got one!"

I squint my eyes and spot the twitching object impaled on the end of his spear. I almost can't quite believe it but he has genuinely gone and caught one.

Harry Styles has caught a fish with a stick and a stone.

I clasp my hands together against my chest as he bounds towards me; legs leaping out the water as if he's been stung by a jellyfish. Yesterday I might have thrown my arms around him in a celebratory hug but today I'm not quite sure what to do.

He reaches me, still beaming and wiggles his winnings in front of my face. The fish is stationary now and hangs limp and slimy on the spike.

Yuck.

"I can't believe it! Seriously, well done, Harry." I tell him although can't help help scrunching my nose up as he continues to reanimate it like some sort of puppet.

"I do recall," he says in a smug tone. "That you thought this idea was highly amusing and near enough impossible."

My face flushes immediately.

"I did." I admit. "But here you are having proved me wrong."

I smile up at him and he smiles back, the dimples in his cheeks popping. I'm relieved at this exchange between us; it's effortless. Easy. But suddenly it's like the atmosphere has shifted into something awkward and uncomfortable and we quickly look away from one another, embarrassed.

Harry swallows. "So, who wants do the honours?"

My eyebrows mash together, confused. Honours of what?

Sensing my confusion, Harry waves the stick around again. "We need to gut this before we eat it."

My heart plummets to my stomach at the grotesque thought of spooning out the insides of the fish and I grimace, knowing that it's only fair I take one for the team given that Harry put in all the effort to catch it. I stretch out my left hand and reluctantly curl my fingers around the stick.

Harry smirks and releases it into my hold.

"Seems only fair." I try to say enthusiastically but am completely unable to look away from the lifeless, yet judging eyes of the fish. I hold it away from my body as Harry watches with his arms crossed against his bare chest and an amused look on his face.

"I wish I had my phone right now." He says and I narrow my eyes at him.

"So do I. Then we might be able to call for help?" I snort.

"You'd be lucky getting a signal out here." He shakes his head. "But I want the camera. I have never seen someone actually turn green."

Nice to know that I look as bad as I feel.

The sun reflects off of each individual granite scale as I come to accept that I'm about to tear into them. I recall various seafood dinners with my family and each time refusing to de-shell a prawn, eat the crab meat directly from the shell or even coax out muscles. My stomach churns and my toes curl into the tepid grains beneath me.

"I can do it, if you like?" Harry offers, unfolding his arms, ready to accept the spear back. "I really don't mind."

He's not even being sarcastic or mocking, he genuinely wants to help, despite the fact that we are both well aware it's my turn to step up.

"No, no." I say, although I'm not sure I mean it. I'm pretty sure my brain is screaming at me to hand over the responsibility to someone who is unlikely to vomit all over the best dinner they've had in days. "This'll be a good story to tell the kids back at the school."

With my free hand, I wipe the sheen a sweat away from my forehead before kneeling down in the sand. I wonder what the children would have been told; probably a highly watered down version of the truth - all too young and naive to understand how cruel the world is capable of being. But then I also can't help but try to picture their faces if/when I returned. They would all be so mesmerised by the stories of falling coconuts and of spears and fish. Of crystal water and hidden lagoons. Even of restless nights under a plane door and of large, unattractive head wear.

It all sounds like some cleverly thought up, tragic fiction; two young protagonists and their desperate fight for survival. I'm not even sure I would quite believe it.

"You good?" Harry says in a gravelly voice, intruding my bittersweet thoughts. I squint up at him and grimace again.

"I'll let you know once I'm no longer fingertip-deep in fish intestines."

He laughs; a low chuckle that I can almost feel vibrating through the sand but doesn't comment on my misfortune.

I purse my lips and reach out with my free hand to remove the fish from the spear. It's wet to touch; cold and slippery under the pads of my fingers and for a brief second I'm half tempted to take Harry up on his previous offer of taking over. But instead I wrap my fingers around it and pretend it's something other than what it is. A jelly perhaps? Or maybe one of those daft wobbly things you buy in museum gift shops that leaps from your grasp the moment you get a hold of it.

I pull upwards and cringe as the pointed tip of the stone slides out from underneath the corpse; leaving it gently oozing blood into the palm of my hand.

I will not be sick.

"Can you get me one of the books from the suitcases? And one of the water bottles too." I instruct Harry, thinking that I need some sort of surface to rest this fish on as it's unlikely either of us want it seasoned with sand. And then obviously water to rinse it with after...the removal. He nods and darts up towards the trees in search of my requests, kicking sand up in a storm as he goes.

He's back in seconds and slings a hardback book down into the sand in front of me, followed by a full bottle of water. The book is pretty badly water damaged and the edges of the pages have dried wavy.

"Thanks." I say and lay the fish down onto the cover. It makes a horrible slapping sound and sends a spray of pale, diluted pink juice up my arm.

I retch.

"Oh, boy." Harry says in a strained voice and turns away with his hands grabbing fistfuls of his damp hair.

"Ok, Sarah," I say out loud because if Harry isn't going to offer words of support - then someone has to. "Get a grip of yourself."

With Harry still facing away, I place my right hand on the fish to steady it and lightly poke the tip of his spear into the belly, just above the tail. I bite down onto my lip as I push further in, wincing as it rips through the scaled flesh. I pull the spear to the left and tear all the way up to the head, leaving a leaking trail of juice and blood and whatever other vile fish-smelling substance.

"You've got to put your bare hands in there." Harry says suddenly. I look up to find he's turned back around; eyes focused intently on our soon-to-be dinner. "Just saying."

"Thanks for reminding me." I manage to reply through gritted teeth. What I would give for a pair of gloves right now.

I drop the spear in my left hand and extend my fingers into the belly, squealing as they scrape along the insides. Pink, pallid guts come sliding out and slip over the edge of the hardback and into the sand, spattering my exposed knees.

"Holy hell, this is the most disgusting moment of my life." There's a laugh somewhere in my voice. Probably disbelief that I've genuinely just scooped out the insides of a fish with my bare hands. I tip my head up towards Harry who looks just as shocked as I feel.

"And mine." He breathes, his lips twitching with amusement. "I was sure that fish was going to be marinaded in your vomit."

Thanks, Harry.

I manage to pull myself up without having to use my fish-smothered hands and hold them out in front of me as though they're infected with something contagious. "I've got to wash my hands. And my legs. And preferably now."

Harry bends down and collects the spear before piercing it through the now empty fish. He holds it over the fire; allowing it to be enveloped in the flames. They seem to curl around it; licking the scales in a sort of greeting. "You go," he says. "And I'll get started on cooking this thing."

I smile at him gratefully and turn towards the sea. The natural light has significantly dimmed now, another hour or so and it'll be pitch black, and there's something almost romantic about drifting down towards the ocean, barefoot and with a smile on my face.

Admittedly the fish juice doesn't quite fit the theme.

The water comes up to greet my toes and I wade in, grateful as it washes over my body and takes the juice away in its retreat. I rub my hands over my self repeatedly and scrub away any remnants. Sure, it's no bath, but it's better than nothing and it's a damn sight better than smelling like fish guts.

As I tilt my head upwards, I'm completely caught off guard by the sight before me. A gasp falls from my parted lips.

It's like I'm looking into the very heart of the galaxy. There's not an inch of the sky that isn't dotted with the smallest of twinkling lights; stars blazing in all their glory. And I've never seen anything quite like it. It's like an astronomer's dream out here and if I knew what I was looking for, I bet I could spot more constellations than I could count on both hands.

I find comfort in knowing that if my parents or Jules were looking up at the night sky right now, we'd be sharing the same one. And suddenly the distance between us doesn't seem quite so extensive.

I'm here, I shout in my head. I'm still here and I'm going to get back to you. I love you all so much.

Cool fingers rest against the small of my back and I jump and whirl around to find Harry standing directly behind me. I hadn't even heard him enter the water.

"The fish is ready." He says quietly, not taking his eyes off of my my own. "You've been in here a while."

"Sorry." I lick my lips, suddenly feeling awfully embarrassed. "I got distracted by the stars."

Harry's eyes flicker briefly to the dark mass overhead. It's like we're under a canopy, decorated generously with fairy lights. It's beautiful.

"Quite something." He comments, as if agreeing with my thoughts. He brings his eyes back down to my face. "It's quite easy to get distracted here."

My lips part with surprise because I know full well he's no longer referring to the stars. And as though he hadn't meant to say it, he looks away quickly with a blush, rosy in his cheeks and begins making his way back towards the shore.