Free 1514642093 (R) by Amanda Dick Page A

I’m really keen to get started. Does it show?”
    I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Just a little bit. Come on in.”
    She was enchanting, and completely oblivious to what that was doing to my insides. In a blinding flash, I realised something.
    She knew nothing about me. I knew nothing about her. It was a fresh slate. I could be anyone I wanted to be. I didn’t have to be the bereaved boyfriend or the pitiful loner. I could reinvent myself. It was an intoxicating thought.
    She stood in the hallway, waiting, her hands clasped behind her back like an impatient schoolgirl.
    “Are we going to the beach?” she asked, as I closed the door. “It’s a beautiful day for it. I was at Whale Bay yesterday morning, just watching, trying to pick up some pointers.”
    I’d almost forgotten about that. Already, I could feel the fantasy beginning to circle the drain.
    “Were you there early? I thought I saw you,” I said, hoping she would say I was wrong, that I’d imagined it.
    She nodded, looking uncomfortable suddenly, although she did her best to hide it. She probably saw everything. I didn’t know how to explain it to her without having to go into the whole sordid mess. Maybe I couldn’t reinvent myself after all.
    “Yeah, that was me,” she said carefully. “I went out to watch the sunrise. It was really pretty.”
    I waited for her to ask about what else she might’ve seen, but she didn’t.
    “Best place to watch it from,” I said.
    “I can see why.”
    That was it. No awkward questions. No probing. No interest at all, really. She just looked embarrassed. Not what I expected, at all. Apparently, we were just going to leave it there. She was there, she saw – possibly – what happened, but it was none of her business. Or she didn’t care enough to ask. Either way, I felt like I’d been let off the hook. Maybe I could keep the awkward truth at bay for a little while longer after all.
    “Anyway, no. Not going out to Whale just yet,” I said, buoyed by the thought. “You really have to know what you’re doing to surf there. Those rocks’ll chew you up and spit you out, even on the calmer days.”
    She screwed up her face, wincing. “Ouch.”
    “So, today we’re staying right here, in my backyard. And once you’ve got the hang of popping up, we’ll go to Manu. It’s safer there, better for grommets.”
    “Grommets?”
    “Beginner surfers, like you.”
    “I’m a grommet? Not sure I like the sound of that.”
    “Not magical enough for you?” I teased. “You’ll get used to it. Do you want something to drink before we start? Coffee, tea, water?”
    “Coffee would be great, thanks.”
    “How do you have it?”
    “Lots of milk, two sugars,” she said, glancing around the living room.
    Jesus, she even took her coffee like Em. I brushed it off. Lots of people had plenty of milk and two sugars in their coffee. I walked into the kitchen, grabbed a couple of mugs and flipped on the kettle.
    “I like your place,” she called from the living room.
    “Thanks.”
    Em was responsible for the interior look. I’d let her do whatever she wanted, concentrating on the outside. Maintaining the gardens, the lawns, the shrubbery. That was my forte, not the cushions or the wall colour or the furniture. My only stipulation was that we had to have a comfy couch, and we did. Five years later, everything was almost exactly the same as it was when she disappeared. Changing the décor meant facing things I wasn’t ready to face just yet, so I told myself it was easier to just leave everything as it was.
    I concentrated on making coffee, catching Maia’s reflection in the kitchen window. She was staring at the photos on the wall. The ones of Em and I. The ones I couldn’t bear to take down. Shit. This could get awkward. So much for reinventing myself. My whole life was up on that wall, staring her in the face. Staring me in the face.
    I stepped out of the kitchen and stood there,