The Survivors(4)

Chapter 2


The Surf and Turf looked exactly the same as it had three years ago. Ten years ago, even. One whole side of the weatherboard building was still adorned by an outline of a giant crayfish, fashioned entirely from sun-bleached shells glued to the wall. A painted sign at the entrance read: In here for fish from there, with an uneven arrow pointing to the ocean that lay a stone’s throw from the outdoor dining deck.

Kieran and Mia, zipped into jackets that barely had cause to leave the wardrobe back home in Sydney, crossed Beach Road without bothering to look either way. Evelyn Bay’s main drag had the ghost-town feel that Kieran had always associated with the end of summer. Parking spaces so coveted in mid-season that they sparked incidents of road rage now lay empty and unloved. Every shop, including the small supermarket, had shut for the evening, and blank windows indicated more than one business had closed its doors for good for the off-season.

It hadn’t always been like that, apparently. Evelyn Bay lay sandwiched between native woodlands and the sea, and its fortunes had been driven by fishing and forestry back when Kieran’s parents had been his age. Now the next generation drove dolphin-watching boats during the summer and scrabbled for labouring and casual work in the winter. Or they left town altogether.

The Surf and Turf was busy, which at that hour of the night and that time of the year meant a handful of people scattered across half-a-dozen tables. No-one paid Kieran any real attention as they entered. He hadn’t expected them to – twelve years was a long time in anyone’s book, and the few people who’d felt the burning need to have a crack had mostly done so – but he still felt a bit relieved.

A couple of young guys Kieran didn’t recognise were drinking on the outside deck, pretending not to be cold in their t-shirts in the twilight, and he was glad to see Ash had already commandeered an inside table near the back. Ash had a beer in one hand and his phone in the other, and put both down on the chipped surface as he saw them heading over.

‘Verity stepped up with the babysitting duty, eh? Good on her.’

Kieran nodded. His mum had, without complaint. She’d simply cleared a collection of half-filled moving boxes before settling down on the couch with her husband and grandchild for a long evening of low-verbal, high-dependency companionship. Kieran and Mia had exchanged guilty looks and hovered in the hallway, taking their time putting on their shoes and finding their phones, until Verity had got up off the couch and opened the front door for them herself, rolling her eyes as they at last stepped out into the evening air.

Ash’s phone buzzed on the table and he checked the screen. ‘Sean’s on his way. He had to fix something on the boat.’

‘Anything serious?’

‘Probably not, think he’s just flat out.’ Ash took a sip of beer. ‘Even Liv was saying –’

‘What was I saying?’ A waitress appeared at the table, pad and pen in hand and sporting the Surf and Turf’s distinctive uniform of orange t-shirt and skirt. She didn’t listen to Ash’s answer, instead moving around the table. ‘Oh my God, Mia, hello.’

Olivia Birch held her arms out to Mia, who was already rising to greet her. The two women hugged, then leaned back to examine each other properly.

Kieran’s guess had been right. Even more than a decade out of high school, in garish orange and with her thick curly bun already collapsing mid-shift, Olivia was still, by any objective measure, the most striking woman in the room.

‘Hi Kieran,’ she said, over his girlfriend’s shoulder.

‘G’day, Liv.’

She looked like she might say something else, but then simply let go of Mia and opened her notebook. ‘So, drinks?’

‘Liv, thanks so much for the little outfit you sent for Audrey,’ Mia said, when Olivia returned with the tray. ‘I’ve got a photo –’

She pulled out her phone and Olivia put down the drinks and peered over.

‘God, she is so cute. Where is she anyway? With Verity?’

‘Yeah,’ Mia said. ‘We’re here all this week, though. I’ll bring her in.’

‘Do. Or stop by my place anytime. I’m only a few doors up from you.’

‘Yeah, Ash said. We kind of met your housemate earlier, actually.’

‘Bronte?’

Olivia glanced across the room, and for the first time Kieran noticed the girl from the beach, now also wearing the orange t-shirt and skirt. She was younger than he’d initially thought, only twenty-one or twenty-two, maybe. She was short, with a neat round face and wide eyes that made her look uncannily doll-like. Her hair was tied back now and Kieran could see that the colour that had looked simply dark blonde on the beach was in fact created by the kind of intricate highlights that were common on the streets of Sydney, but in this context looked exotically groomed.

Bronte was carrying a glass of red wine to a corner table, where a man sat alone glaring at a laptop screen. She made an inaudible remark as she placed the drink on a cardboard coaster and the man smiled despite himself. He sat back, stretching his shoulders, and took a decent swallow of wine. He mimed tipping the rest of the glass over the keyboard in mock frustration and they both laughed. She turned away and the man put his glass down carefully, watching Bronte over his laptop screen as she threaded her way through the tables.

‘She’s not local, is she?’ Kieran asked.