Seven Days: The Complete Story (2 page)

“Coming?”

I will be
shortly if he doesn’t stop looking at me like that.

“Sure,” I say,
my need to find out more about this man squashing the trepidation
of doing something so spontaneous. “I think we’ve ascertained I’m
not the best company at the moment but if you’re willing to invite
me knowing that, then I’ll come eat with you.” I slide on my shoes.
They feel gritty under the soles of my feet even though I’ve tried
to brush the sand away. I take my towel and hat, shoving them in my
beach bag, which I sling over my shoulder. A weight has been
lifted. Somehow, through a simple act of kindness, this man has
managed to lift me out of my reverie.

“You’re not
going to cry again?”

“Only if you
buy me gin. That always makes me cry.”

*****

The Beach Hut
is quiet when we arrive. The summer’s almost over and most holiday
makers have gone back to their homes in the city. We find a table
in the corner with an outlook over the water.

Like I haven’t
seen enough of the water in the last few days. Every waking minute
has been spent sitting by the ocean. Thinking. Remembering.

A waitress
arrives and takes our order. She has white blonde dyed hair with a
blue streak down the side and a rather large toothy smile. Her
dress is so tight you can see every line of her underwear. The
buttons down the front look as if they might burst if she bends too
far and she leans in Nicholas’ direction, expanding her cleavage so
he can get a good look. Geez, her boobs are weapons of mass
destruction. She could smother entire suburbs with that
cleavage.

Nicholas makes
a joke about ordering gin but she doesn’t get it. I smile at his
attempt to cheer me up and order a glass of champagne. He raises a
quizzical eyebrow at me as the waitress walks away. “Bubbles?
That’s how you get over your melancholy? I hate to see what you’re
like when you’re on your game.”

“I’ve decided
to celebrate, not wallow. And I heard the bubbles here are good, so
I should at least sample a few glasses before I leave, right? In
fact, I might have a glass of everything on the wine list.”

“My kinda
girl.”

“Um, yeah.” I
blush at that. I’m not usually anyone’s kind of girl. I’ve always
seen myself as not needing to be part of a couple, single is fine
with me. I could, of course, be convinced to change that way of
thinking. Especially by a guy with looks like Nicholas. My
boyfriends in the past have been, shall we say, conservative? Nice
but boring? Missionary? Not to mention countable on one hand.

Nicholas is
none of those things it seems. He’s tall. I noticed that as soon as
he stood beside me on the beach. He towers over me and I’m not
exactly short. His shoulders fill out the dark blue t-shirt he’s
wearing and I can see ripples of muscle as he bends his arm. Not
those massive ugly muscles some boys at Uni like to cultivate but
the kind a girl wants to run her hands over. His eyes are a smoky,
bluish grey and framed by lashes that should be illegal on a man.
He has a head of scruffy, dirty blonde hair and stubble gracing a
manly chin. I find myself staring at it, imagining things I know I
shouldn’t but I can’t help it. It’s that invisible magnet thing. It
seems to be pulling us inexplicably together.

Yep, Nicholas
is hot with a capital H and a full stop between each letter for
emphasis. He’s a fantasy. The type of man you lust over but know
you can never have, the type that enters your dreams and leaves you
pulsing. To look at him is to throb with desire.

And I’m
sitting here calmly discussing the wine list.

Go, me.

“So,
Sadie.”

I jump,
distracted from my naughty thoughts. “Yes?”

“What brings
you to this neck of the woods?”

I want to
answer this truthfully but I fear it may reduce me to tears again.
“It’s the first anniversary of when my Mum died. She drowned.” I
indicate the spot along the beach where we met. “I’m staying here
for a week or so till Uni starts again.”

“What are you
studying?”

“Horticulture
and landscape architecture. I’m in my final year.”

“So you like
science and you’re creative?”

Does that make
me a geek?

“I guess. I
like being in the garden. Creating an outdoor space is more than
putting up a pergola to me.”

“Did your mum
like gardening too?”

No, don’t go
there, Nicholas. Please don’t go there.

I swallow the
thought. “Yes.”

He gives a
slow nod. I think he knows I don’t want to discuss that topic any
more. Not yet.

“And you?
What’s your claim to fame? Why are you here?” I ask.

“First holiday
in five years. If you could call it that. My business partner
arrives tomorrow so we’re going to mix a little work and play
before we head back to town in a week or so.”

“Where are you
staying?” I imagine him in one of those penthouses further along
the coast to the south. Despite his rugged looks, he seems like the
type, like he only looks this way when he’s on holiday. Not that
there’s anything wrong with the way he looks. Not at all.

“I have a
shack too. It used to belong to my grandparents but now it’s mine.
I’ve been coming here since I was a kid. Surfing mostly. Can’t
believe I’ve never run into you before now.”

“I’m a bit of
a homebody, I guess. Haven’t been here since I was about eight.” I
could never understand why Mum didn’t come to the bay more often. I
know she loved the sea but that something changed after the summer
when I was eight. She was almost reclusive after that. Naturally,
she dragged me into that way of thinking.

“Bet you were
a cute eight year old,” Nicholas grins.

“I was fat and
had crooked teeth and freckles.”

“I find that
hard to believe.”

Cue excited
trembling of knees. Nicholas is definitely flirting now. Either
that or I’ve been sitting in the sun for too long and I’m imagining
things. Which could be on the cards. Once, I was convinced this guy
in my course was flirting with me across the Uni Bar and it turned
out he was gesturing to his girlfriend behind me. I completely
misread the smile and went swanning up to him to introduce myself.
When I got there, he looked straight through me like I was
invisible, which I sort of wished I had been when his entire social
group began snickering at me for being so dim.

I pull a podgy
face. “See.”

“Not seeing
it.” He’s doing it again. His eyes are twinkling and he’s looking
at my mouth; staring quite openly as if he wants to eat me up. As
if by some force of nature I find myself running my tongue over my
lips and tucking a hair behind my ear, tilting my face to show him
my best side. I’m flirting back. My mother is hardly cold in the
grave and I’m flirting with a guy I’ve met on the beach. I lower my
eyes, shove my hands between my knees under the table and try to
think of something else.

Geez, it’s
hard though.

*****

We sit at the
table well into the night. I don’t know where the hours go but by
the time it’s closing I feel as if Nicholas and I have known each
other forever. Our conversation is easy and he’s managed to make me
laugh without feeling guilty for having a good time, something
nobody else has been able to do. Most of my friends tiptoe around
me like I’m breakable; too scared I’ll crack or jump off a cliff.
Nicholas is not like that. His matter-of-factness and honesty are
refreshing.

Behind the
counter the waitress is drying a very large serving platter and
looking at the clock on the wall every thirty seconds. Each swipe
of her cloth is slow and purposeful as she turns back to stare us
down. She releases an exaggerated sigh and Nicholas raises his
eyebrows in my direction. “I think she’s giving us the hint,” he
says, tilting his head in the waitress’s direction.

I glance
around the restaurant. It’s empty. Some of the lights have been
turned off and the chairs are turned upside down on the tables. I
was so lost in conversation; I hadn’t even noticed we were the only
ones left. I feel a little deflated that our evening is about to
end. “I suppose we better make a move.”

“Yep. That
plate looks lethal. She might Frisbee it at our heads if we
don’t.”

I smother a
titter and move to pick up the bill from the table but Nicholas’
hand covers mine, stopping me. His skin is warm against my
knuckles. Smooth and not in keeping with the rugged exterior he
portrays.

“Let me pay.
Please,” I say. “It’s the least I can do after making you endure my
sad sack story all night.”

“I enjoyed
myself. Didn’t you?”

“Well yes,
but—”

“I want to.”
The look in his eyes says he thinks settling the bill will send my
debit card into rocketing the stratosphere of debt.

“I touched it
first,” I joke, not wanting him to remove his hand, hoping he’ll
play along a while longer.

He rubs his
thumb over my knuckles. A tingle begins in my hand and shoots up my
arm before slippery-dipping into my belly. “Okay. You win. But next
time, it’s my treat.” Quickly, he tugs the cheque from beneath my
fingers and pockets it with a grin.

Damn. He
completely out-foxed me. He knew the effect his fingers would have
and he played me.

“Who says
there’s going to be a next time?” It’s my turn to quirk an
eyebrow.

He leans
close, staring right into my eyes. It’s unnerving and sexy and my
lungs forget how to breathe. I’m out of my depth in this game but
I’m not going to let him know.

“Me,” he says.
“What do you intend to do about it?”

Um.
Nothing?

“I could
ignore you.”

“But you don’t
want to. And I don’t want you to.”

He’s got me
pegged.

Nicholas
stands. He fishes the bill and a hundred dollar note from his
pocket and places them on the table. “So how about tomorrow
morning. I’ll see you on the jetty around seven. I’m taking the
Constance
for a spin.”

“I—”

“Don’t like
water?”

“No.”

“Married?”

I tilt my head
at him. I’m way too young to be married.

“Can’t
swim?”

Oh, this is
ridiculous.

“Thought so.
No plausible excuse,” he chuckles. “See you bright and early then.
Don’t forget a hat and sunscreen.”

And he’s
gone.

*****

I walk home
alone along the beach. It’s a full moon and the beach is as
brightly lit as if it was day. Crystals of quartz are glittering in
the sand like tiny diamonds in the night. I feel good. Comfortable.
Not exactly happy but content.

My mind turns
to Nicholas. Should I think it odd he said he lived in this
direction and yet he didn’t offer to walk me home? Maybe he was
lying? Maybe he’s the one who’s married and he’s trying to conceal
the truth. Maybe he won’t turn up in the morning because he
realises how much baggage I carry and he’s not prepared for that
type of commitment. That’s why he didn’t want me to see his house.
If I don’t know where he’s staying, I can’t drop in now, can I?

I hear my
voice going round and round in my head and I know how silly I
sound, how lacking in confidence. Nicholas is a nice guy. He was
concerned enough to stop on the beach earlier, so what motive would
he have for lying? I need to stop overthinking and just
breathe.

At last, I
reach the door of the cottage. The light from the lamp is shining
through the window and I put my key in the door, dump my stuff,
flip off my shoes and head to the bathroom. It’s then, as I’m
looking at my reflection in the mirror while cleaning my teeth,
that I realise I haven’t thought about Mum in about five hours. In
fact, now I am thinking about her, I’m not crying. I’m smiling. If
nothing else happens between us, I have Nicholas to thank for
that.

The next
morning is swelteringly hot. The sun is a huge melon coloured orb
in the sky. As I walk along the side of the road towards the dock I
see the heat rising from the footpath and a rippling haze over the
bay. It’s going to be a scorcher. Along the end of the timber jetty
I see Nicholas, as he promised. He’s on the deck of a small ketch,
fiddling with a rope. He’s wearing cream shorts and a pale blue
linen shirt that’s crinkled at the back from where he’s been
sitting. A pair of aviator sunglasses perch on his nose. His hair
is mussed like he just got out of bed, which he probably did and he
looks boyish and charming. My heart skips in excitement as I
approach. I’m not sure if this is a good sign. I haven’t been
romantic with anyone for a while and the anticipation is making me
feel quite immature and giddy. Not like me.

I stop near a
collection of boats bobbing gently on the water.

“Morning!” I
call, and give him a tentative wave. No matter how attracted I feel
to Nicholas, I’m wary. It could be that I don’t know him well
enough or maybe it’s that he’s different. I’ve never met a man like
him before, let alone been with one. He’s so — well — confident,
like he knows where he stands in the world and deserves that place.
It’s not about his looks; it’s the aura he puts out. I think if I
let him, he’d have the ability to swallow me whole, lead me in a
direction that could be termed ‘astray’. In a good way, of course.
Nothing illegal.

Nicholas looks
up. He ties a hasty knot in the rope he’s holding and grins at me.
It’s a broad smile and I find myself returning it.

“Nice
boat.”

“She’s a
yacht. A ketch if we’re being specific.”

Ooh
, I
knew that, I knew that. I am not a complete maritime moron.

He motions for
me to board. “Hop on.”

I am not sure
how I am meant to do this. Crazy as it sounds I’ve never been on a
yacht before. My life has been led with my feet safely on terra
firma. I’d never even been on a plane before I turned eighteen. It
wasn’t by choice though. I always wanted to do stuff, try new
things but Mum wasn’t keen. She liked to stay in our local
neighbourhood, figuring that if nothing ever changed she couldn’t
get any nasty surprises. Mum spent entire weeks in the garden and I
loved to help but sometimes I longed for the adrenalin rush brought
about by a surprise. Since she’s been gone, I haven’t had to worry
about upsetting her with my decisions. My choices and mistakes are
my own. Not that I’ve done anything outrageous but I kinda like the
idea that I can if I want to and nobody will tell me off. Except my
conscience.