My skin felt sticky against the leather seat and I didn’t know if it was owing entirely to the warm afternoon sun beating down on us through the windshield, or the fear of death that made my stomach reel every blind corner we took.
I thought better of it than to make conversation with Chris as he drove; I wanted his full attention on the road. I had even turned down the music a little so he could give the drive his full concentration. Beside me and my white-knuckled terror, Chris seemed really relaxed, elbow propped up on the windowsill, the warm breeze riffling through his black hair. Every so often he casually admired the beauty of the countryside, not in the least bit affected by the drop directly beside him.
I wanted to scream, “Eyes on the bloody road!” but as quickly as he looked away from the road he looked right back again.
The only words Chris had spoken during our commute through the hills were, “Not long now.”
I didn’t know entirely what that meant. Not long now until we arrived somewhere? Not long now and we would plummet to our deaths?
Considering he had announced that it wasn’t long over an hour ago, I was very underwhelmed thus far.
But just as I thought I couldn’t stand rocketing around the windy, steep hillsides any longer and would put my head into the recovery position between my knees, he said, “Tammy, look!”
Suddenly all my anguish seeped away, replaced by a bright, beaming smile. As out of nowhere we had turned a corner and bam! The ocean was right there. It was like a magic trick, as if Mother Nature had tucked away this little piece of heaven in the corner of the world, as though she had wanted to surprise us or reward us for surviving the road of death.
I’d take it. The long stretch of blue-green water surged into a delicious foamy mass against the rocks below. Now I found myself not afraid, but instead leaning over toward Chris to peer down the rocky incline.
Even though we grew up with Lake Onslow on our doorstep and were constantly in danger of being waterlogged most of our lives, there was always this mystique and wonder about the ocean. It always managed to take my breath away, especially when it appeared from nowhere.
“We’re about twenty-five kilometres from Portland, so we’re making good time.”
“Are we stopping in Portland?” I asked, confused.
Chris dipped his sun visor against the blinding sun. “No, we’ll push on through.”
***
I felt pangs of regret as we drove in one side and out the other of the huge coastal town of Portland. It stretched along a vast promenade opposite a white sandy beach that was swarming with bikini-clad and shirtless tourists. People were everywhere: strolling, shopping or dining in the endless line of quirky cafes that dotted along the promenade.
Our jet black panel van roared as we made our way down the main street; it seemed so out of place in this bright, sparkling coastal town.
I could only imagine the others setting up camp here for the night, walking these streets after the evening sun had kissed the horizon. I kind of envied them. It was a far cry from the nothing that was Evoka, that was for sure. I wondered if it was too late to change our mind, to stay here and soak up the bustling atmosphere. But as we rolled farther on, down a strip of man-placed palm trees, we drove by the ‘You are now leaving Portland’ sign and my shoulders involuntarily sagged.
I felt like when I was a kid and my parents had just driven passed a McDonald’s without stopping for a Happy Meal – the disappointment was palpable.
“Don’t worry,” Chris laughed, as if amused by my childlike wistfulness. “I know a better place than Portland.”
I straightened with interest. “Really?”
“If you’re keen, it’s about five hours from here but if we crash there tonight, Point Shank is only three hours beyond that.”
My heart plummeted.
Another five hours’ driving today?
“Okay,” I said, trying not to sound too miserable.
“It’s pretty busy in town, but there’s a place just up the road that serves the best fish and chips in the southern hemisphere. You want to stop?”
Poor Chris, it was like he was trying to placate my disappointment by littering the journey with little treasures so as to make it more bearable.
He had been so good. Without even questioning why, adding to all the other ways he had looked out for me, he had agreed to break away from the others. He had helped me when I’d had the migraine, he had hunted down my prescription and medication, he’d helped me into my dress, helped me out of it …
I slammed the lid closed on that memory, of the embarrassing way I had tilted my head to the side, begging for him to make a move, and he had. In the opposite direction.
Yeah, best not to think about that. The remnants of that night still burned with shame, even after Amy had told me of her discovery of just how much he liked me; even after he had given me quite possibly the best compliment of my life earlier on today.
Because if I’d had to choose perfect, I would have just chosen you.
My heart may have threatened to break through the wall of my chest at the time, but now I just felt … nothing. Because I knew it wasn’t for real. If I had learned nothing else these last few days, it was that Chris wasn’t really in charge of his own emotions. He was a fever one minute and Antarctica the next. He seemed to struggle on any level of personal connection; the only thing he seemed to do was Band-Aid a feeling, say things that would make me feel better, like now.
Chris eased the car toward a car park. I looked at the restaurant we were pulling into …
“Does that say ‘The Love Shack’?”
Chris cut off the engine and we looked up at a one-storey weatherboard cafe with bi-fold doors that opened onto a small deck with a huge red sign flashing ‘The Love Shack’ at us in neon.
The lobster on the sign was bending his claw into a thumbs up.
I raised my brows at Chris.
“Hey, I said they had great fish and chips, not that they would feature in House & Garden magazine.”
“Uh, no. That would require taste,” I half laughed.
“Well, I assure you the taste is there, it’s just all in the food and trust me – that’s all that matters.”
He opened his door.
I slid out from my side, not taking my eyes from the hideous, flashing sign. If someone had told me that I was going to enter The Love Shack with Chris Henderson, I would have laughed – laughed like I was right now.
“Cut it out,” warned Chris, trying to act like it wasn’t funny.
I imitated the thumbs-up lobster and laughed even more.
Chris just shook his head and walked on without me.
Chapter Forty-One
Oh crap! Chris was looking at me.
He was looking at me with a smug ‘I told you so’ glint in his eyes as he licked the excess dribble of lemon off his salty fingers.
He sat across from me with the stretch of blue ocean at his back; it seemed so inappropriate that I was glowering at such a beautiful boy in such a beautiful place. It took all of my willpower not to glance at his lips as he pressed them together, savouring the tangy flavour.
I was still chewing thoughtfully on the most amazing piece of flake I had ever tasted in my life. I had known it would be the second I’d placed the lightly battered white flesh on my tongue.
Damn it!
“So?” Chris asked, a devilish curve teasing the corner of his mouth.
I snagged a chip out of my basket with a casual shrug. “It’s all right,” I lied.
Chris laughed at me and pressed his back against his cane chair. He stretched his arms into the air and linked them behind his head as his bright, toothy smile spread across his face.
“Just all right, huh?”
Attempting not to smile was impossible, I was such a terrible liar. I scrunched up my face and avoided those deep, knowing eyes. “Yeah, if you like that whole insanely delicious flavour thing, it’s all right, I guess.”
&nbs
p; “Ha! I knew it.” Chris slammed his hand on the tabletop, the vibration causing the salt shaker to tip on its side.
We both reached for it and grabbed it at the same time. Chris’s hand rested on mine. My eyes flicked up to his face, which was now no longer lined with the lighthearted humour from a moment before. I went to move my hand away but his fingers were clasped over mine. He gave them a light squeeze.
He spoke lowly. “Careful, you know how dangerous these can be.”
It took me a moment to remember. The last time we had sat alone opposite each other was when I had hidden from him under the table at the Bake House.
Not my proudest moment. Heat flooded my cheeks at the mortifying memory of that day. It also didn’t help that I was more than a little aware of Chris’s scorching hot skin resting on mine. I moved to sit the salt shaker upright. Chris slid his hand away, his gaze still pinning me to my seat. I brushed the excess salt off the table, trying to act casual. I could feel Chris’s eyes watching my every movement.
Stop staring. Change the subject.
I cleared my throat, dusting the salty granules from my hands. “So where are we stopping tonight?”
Chris’s eyes lit up as he tipped back on his chair. “Oh, just a little place I know,” he said with a wolfish grin.
I cast him a dubious look. “How incredibly cryptic of you.”
“It’s hard to explain; you’ll see in five hours’ time.” He dunked his chip in a blob of tomato sauce.
Five. Long. Hours.
***
Upon dusk, we veered off the main road down a side track. Finally.
My temple had been pressed against the window for the last few kilometres and I straightened up and looked around. The headlight highlighted a wooden sign with words I didn’t catch as we sped by. The sudden turn made my heart leap with excitement. We had been driving in one long, straight line for hours having left the beauty and the wonder of the coast disappointingly behind. No longer dancing along its edges, we had headed inland only to be faced with flat, uninspiring country that made me wish we were winding through the hills again … almost.
I didn’t know how Chris was doing it, hours upon hours of endless driving. I noticed him stretch his neck, or roll his shoulders in fatigue sometimes. I had even offered to take over for a bit, but that had just earned me a wry smile and a polite decline.
Probably some kind of territorial thing. Whatever; fine by me. I had dozed fitfully along the way, trying anything to kill some time. Of course, it didn’t help that the only real reprieve from the heat had been our open windows. I didn’t know if Chris wanted to conserve petrol or prevent his car from overheating or what other reason there was for not using the air con.
The last of the sun was melting down for the day, cooling the air and bringing with it a reprieve from its scorching rays, which was something, at least. The others were no doubt long settled in near the beach around Portland somewhere, setting up camp, catching up with one another, looking after Ringer.
My mind flashed back to this morning to Toby and Ellie. I pinched the bridge of my nose – I didn’t want to think about them right now. This morning seemed like a lifetime ago and I kind of wanted to keep it that way. I moved to massage my temples and let out a weary sigh.
“We’re nearly there,” said Chris.
I stretched in my seat, wondering where ‘there’ was. I envisioned a glorious big bathroom with heated showers, maybe a hut with a king-sized bed. Instead, Chris veered off into an open, sandy clearing and slowed the van to a complete stop. He turned off the engine and drummed his steering wheel in excitement.
“We’re here.” He grinned, flinging his door open and sliding out.
I glanced around, examining where here was exactly. And just as I had suspected, here looked like nowhere. No toilet block, no showers, no public barbecue or picnic tables. Nothing.
Chris had said he would take me somewhere better than Portland. Having remembered the thriving cafes, glistening sand and stretching ocean, I grabbed at the open window and stared tentatively into the fading light.
Absolutely nothing.
Chris stood near my door, stretching his arms toward the stars with an almighty groan. His T-shirt lifted and exposed a flash of ripped muscle. All of a sudden I didn’t feel so dismal about our situation. Still, I would have liked some answers. I unclicked the passenger door and pushed it open. My legs felt like jelly, my circulation obviously cut off from below my waist.
“Where are we?” I winced.
“Shh …” Chris held up his hand. “Do you hear that?”
I stilled, listening intently. What was I listening for?
“I don’t hear anything,” I whispered.
“Listen,” he snapped.
I was in no mood to play Murder in the Dark, I Spy or Listen to the freakin Noise. I just wanted to have a shower, a long, hot sho—
I froze. I did hear something: a low, unmistakable rumble. I wondered how I could possibly not have heard it to begin with. My eyes widened as my gaze locked onto Chris. He smiled wide and bright.
“Change into your swimmers,” he said, doubling back toward the car.
I didn’t question, I just moved, quickly rustling through my gear and ducking on the opposite side of the van from where Chris was also changing. I had gone from fatigue to heart-pounding excitement. Adrenalin pumped through my veins as I tried to guess at what lurked beyond the fading light.
I secured my bikini string on my hip as I walked around the van and collided with Chris, his head entrapped inside his T-shirt as he tried to pull it over his head.
“Watch it,” his muffled voice said.
I tried not to laugh; it was a position I had been trapped in many times in a women’s changing room.
I stepped forward, gathered the fabric and pulled upward. “Hold still,” I laughed.
I didn’t actually do much, as Chris managed to yank it off his head, his hair all ruffled and standing on end, which caused me to laugh even more.
I shook my head. “Honestly, how old are you?”
He didn’t answer, he just looked at me, his eyes darting at my attire, and then quickly back to my face. It was so fleeting, but there was no mistaking the meaning in his eyes.
It was the look I had hoped for last night in my new dress. Instead, I found it here, standing before him in my turquoise bikini. I concentrated on keeping my own gaze nice and high, away from his black footy shorts and the wall of bare taut, tanned skin just begging me to look. I would not give him the satisfaction.
“That sound better be a running shower,” I said.
Chris chucked his T-shirt inside the open window of the van. “Even better.” He tilted his head and started toward some bushes along the perimeter.
I called after him, “So, what, I’m supposed to just follow after you, am I?”
Chris shrugged. “Or you could stay here, by yourself.”
I glanced around. Hmm, alone, scantily clad in the quickly fading light … I had seen enough horror movies where Jamie Lee Curtis screamed her way through some trying times. Yeah, not gonna happen.
“Chris, wait up.”
Chapter Forty-Two
A fence? We were climbing over a fence.
Or, rather, what once was a fence and was now just a low lying wire string that had seen better days. Still, the barrier was a universal statement for keeping people out and away from something forbidden, something private, or in this case, something breathtaking.
My feet sank into the sandy embankment as I cautiously followed Chris down the steep dune. As I stepped carefully toward the horizon, I watched as the sunlight bled into the expansive, deep blue sea, but our obvious main focus was what Chris was striding for.
Closer than the sunlight glistening off the ocean was a man-made ocean pool, a barrier built up with concrete and sandstone, creating a calm expanse of water that contrasted with the rhythmic crests and swells
beyond it as the ocean pummelled its edges.
The wind and sea spray tickled at our skin in the darkness, lit only by a line of towering, wrought iron street lamps. Just two were lit; all the others were dark. Damaged, smashed by bored delinquents, no doubt.
But they weren’t here now. The beach was deserted.
“Are we allowed to be here?” I asked, struggling to find purchase in the sand.
“Which answer would you be happy with?” asked Chris.
“Uh, the law-abiding one.”
“Then, yes, absolutely we’re allowed to be here.”
A sense of foreboding chilled my blood as Chris led me up the grassy track. The grass was long and wild, only partly trampled down, which suggested it wasn’t well used.
“Is this safe?” I asked, hating the shaky sound to my voice. My bare arms were speckled with goosebumps and I tried to rub them away. I wasn’t cold in the balmy December breeze, but nervous with the worry that what we were doing was wrong, that what we were about to do was forbidden.
Chris turned his amused focus on me as he walked backward through the grass. “So many questions!” he said with a laugh, before spinning around to concentrate on his steps.
I wanted to ask how he knew about this place, but clamped my mouth closed, thinking better of it.
No more questions. Stop being a wimp and just go with it.
I swallowed down any reservations I had and decided to enjoy my surrounds. We were no longer cooped up in the car, we were alone, just the two of us without the others and their drama, and tomorrow we would finally reach Point Shank. The others may have been settling in at Portland, even going out for tea and the clubs maybe, but Chris was right; he had taken me somewhere better than that. He had brought me to a secluded slice of paradise, even though we were probably trespassing. I quickened my pace to walk beside him, our arms brushing with every unsteady step we formed in the sand.
“Just answer me this, then.”
“Mmm?”
“There isn’t going to be any police tape or chalked outline of a body up here, is there? That’s not the reason no one’s here?”