Someone Like You(11)

'Doctors,' Harri winked. 'You know me too well, doll. What do you think about ditching that cuppa and opening a bottle instead?'

Lizzie looped her arm around Harri's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. 'You had me at g'day, Harri.'





CHAPTER


5


The early morning sun was already shining so bright that the lapping  waves on the sand shimmered like liquid mercury, hot and silver in the  distance. With her red bodyboard nestled under the crook of her right  arm, Lizzie took slow steps into the waves, cool on her ankles and  calves, the cover of her knee-length wetsuit insulating the rest of her  from the freshness of the water. Being in the ocean calmed her. The  unyielding pull of the waves, the mysterious interaction of the moon and  gravity that created the tides, the pounding sound in her ears. It was  all heaven to Lizzie. For some people it was classical music. For her,  the rhythm of the deep was always enough.

Lizzie breathed in, let the sea air fill her lungs. Above her, the sky  was almost cloudless, a brilliant early summer blue with only a few  scattered streaks of white marking the eastern sky. A pair of seagulls  flew low over the water and Lizzie watched in amusement as one landed to  bob on the water right near her. The gull cocked its head in her  direction, flapped its wings and took off, soaring away with the  southerlies.         

     



 

Just like the gulls, Lizzie felt a part of this place, had grown up  looking at this ocean most every day of her life. The Southern Ocean  could be unforgiving, as the historic wrecks of ships along parts of the  rocky coast could attest, but she loved the wildness of it, the  knowledge that there was nothing between her and the Antarctic but a few  thousands miles of ocean.

It was her favourite place, her saving grace, her anchor. She'd needed  to get out there in the waves, to calm her growing sense of dislocation.  Since Dan's accident, normal life in Middle Point had veered off  course, like a stone from a crooked slingshot, in a direction no one had  prepared for or planned. And since then, nothing had come together in  exactly the same order. Julia and Ry were still on tenterhooks around  Dan and their attempt to get Lizzie to help him hadn't worked. He was  clearly pushing back, trying to put a distance between them. Lizzie felt  foolish all of a sudden; she should have gone with her first instinct,  which was to do exactly the same. Instead, she'd let herself be  distracted by his handsome sadness.

At the sound of girlish shrieks of laughter, Lizzie turned back to the  sand and watched two young women contemplate the water. As they ran into  the waves, their tanned knees rose up like prancing ponies. They were  happy, giggling, calling to each other, clad in tiny, precarious bikinis  that wouldn't survive a strong wave. She wondered where they got their  mysterious confidence and more importantly, where hers had gone. Part of  it was back in London, she knew. Maybe she would never get it back.

The girls ran deeper and then ducked under a wave like dolphins,  emerging from the other side of the foam, squealing. Fifteen years  before, that was her and Julia. She shook the thought away. So much had  happened in those years, enough that she'd chosen to be tethered to the  safety and comfortable regularity of Middle Point, as reliable and  certain as the waves on the sand and the wind in the southern sky.

Lizzie turned her attention back to the horizon, judging each wave as it  rolled towards her. Some looked impressive, boastful even, full of foam  and height but they petered out quickly. They were a trick for  beginners. They looked strong but left you hanging, unsatisfied.

Since London, she'd learned to be patient, to wait for a strong one,  could tell by the foaming caps and the strength of the undertow if the  next wave would be strong enough to take her, would be worth launching  herself at, body and soul, and then riding it, hanging on tightly as it  propelled her to the sand in the perfect ride.

Lizzie saw one ahead, could feel it rushing towards her. There was a  sound, a roar with it and she waited. As it approached, she turned to  face the beach, gripped her board and then launched herself onto the  wave.

And then she was off, the force of it hurtling her and her board towards  the sand, a schoolgirl squeal on her lips. The growl and splash of the  water, the roaring noise, blocked out every other sound and she imagined  people on the beach were wondering what the hell that woman was  laughing at as she rode the wave into the silvery water of the shallows.

When her board skimmed the sand and came to a sudden stop, Lizzie rolled  off it and sat there, grinning, feeling free and light and unburdened.  The adrenalin still coursed through her and she caught her breath, her  board banging against her calf, tethered to her by her wrist strap.

Whatever was happening in her life, there was the comfort of this. The  ocean. The beach. The Point she loved so much. In all her best times,  and her darkest, all this had been her constant. They gave her no  excuses, cut her no slack. The waves rolled on no matter what was going  on in her life away from them.

Her life. Lizzie held up a hand to shield her face from the harsh sun  and the light it shone on her circumstances. Suddenly, lately, it had  felt like she'd put that life on hold. For years, she'd been content to  simply let things happen to her, whether by luck or circumstance. Life  as a waitress at the pub, doing her bit for others around Middle Point,  hiding away and sleepwalking through her life had been enough.

Now, she yearned for more. Maybe it had been spurred on by Ry's arrival  and his purchase of the pub, the way he'd given it a much-needed  injection of energy. The previous owners, while wonderful to Lizzie over  the years, had been old-school, happy to let business continue as it  had since the 1970s. When Ry had arrived in town, the first thing he'd  done was guarantee all the staff their jobs. Lizzie had liked him  immediately and liked him even more when he'd promoted her to the newly  created position of manager. He'd made special mention of all the work  she already did around the business and rewarded her for it. She was  proud of the promotion and had stayed awake at night wondering if all  her crazy ideas for the place were good ones. There was so much  potential there and, for the first time in forever, she let herself  think there might be potential in her.         

     



 

A small black dog appeared at her side, panting, eager for a pat. Lizzie  reached over to give it a scratch behind the ears. After a whistle from  its owner, it scampered off down the beach, stopping to sniff the  clumps and knots of dried sea grasses on the sand.

Lizzie rose to her feet and gazed out to the water. She made a  resolution right there and then. She had to get that mysterious  confidence back.

A part of her knew that there was something between her and Dan,  something puzzling and powerful, something that had been hinted at right  from the beginning. But that didn't mean the time was right. For her or  for him. And if the timing wasn't right, did that mean it wasn't  supposed to happen for them?

That's life.

Lizzie decided it was time she got on with hers.

Ry placed his knife and fork neatly across his plate and took a sip of  water, a huge grin creasing his face. He leaned back in his chair,  stretched his arms up and linked them behind his neck. He took a  satisfied look around the pub's front bar.

'Lizzie, you know what I love about my life?'

From across the table, Lizzie raised her eyebrows. 'Other than Jools, you mean?'

'Yeah, other than JJ. I love that I get to have business meetings in the  front bar of my pub. Wearing shorts and thongs. On a near perfect day,  like today, looking out at that spectacular view. It's bloody  brilliant.'

Lizzie smiled back at him. She knew what he meant. 'You're like a  reformed smoker, you know that? You've only been here for  – what is it  now  –  six months, and you're Middle Point's biggest fan. Those of us who  are born and bred have known its attractions for a whole lot longer.'

'Yeah, yeah, and I suppose I won't be considered a local for at least another three decades, right?'

'Something like that.' Lizzie crossed her arms and leaned on the table. 'So, can we talk business now?'

'Talk about a buzz kill. So, what's this big thing you had to ask me about?'

Lizzie took a deep breath to steady herself. The idea had come to her in  the middle of the night. Just like that. She'd blinked her eyes open in  the darkness and there it was, an idea so simple she couldn't believe  she'd hadn't thought of it before. Over breakfast, she'd gone over and  over it in her head and then called Ry, telling him she needed to talk.

'I've got a plan for the pub. And all it needs is your okay. Oh, and  your money.' Lizzie didn't doubt her idea was brilliant but she wasn't  used to being so upfront about what she thought. She gave Ry one of her  best and most confident smiles, hoping it would work its magic on him.  She searched his face. Nope, there was no sign that it had any effect  whatsoever.