Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Jade
Changi Airport is busy, as it usually is, the huge space filled with people.
Flowering plants are everywhere, glossy green leaves reflecting the sunlight streaming through the windows and glass ceilings, glinting from shiny shop signage advertising luxury brands.
Manny, one hand on the small of my back, hurries us through the crowds, his other hand expertly manoeuvring the luggage trolley as though it weighs nothing.
A porter follows us with another cart, this one loaded with surfboard cases.
A few people glance our way, one whipping out his phone to take a photograph as I hold a hand up to my face.
It doesn’t help that a poster of me, wearing a skimpy bikini and draped across Zach’s glistening golden form, is in the window of at least two shops we pass.
This is what I’m getting away from, I remind myself, as we hurry along gleaming hallways, past sculptures and gardens and yet more shops, bustling restaurants scenting the warm air.
The flight from South Africa was long and, even though I had my own bed in first class, I found it difficult to sleep.
I haven’t told Manny about my plan yet, not sure how to find the words, even though I know he’ll understand what I’m doing, more than anyone.
Well, almost anyone. When Anna’s message came through mid-flight I almost cried in relief, not realising until then how tightly I was wound.
Sembuh is yours. Private, ocean front. Wi-Fi not great but waves awesome. They’ll meet you at Serangan. And look out for Axel.
I’m still thinking about that last part.
Look out for Axel. Is it a warning, or something else?
Whatever. Beachfront privacy for the next little while sounds like heaven.
I don’t care about the internet. I just want to rest and recharge.
Six weeks until my next competition, and I want to be ready.
And maybe I can finally break free from Zach.
God knows Manny would be happy about that, even if no one else is.
As I pass yet another surf shop with our poster in the window, I roll my eyes.
Everyone can just get on without me for the next few weeks.
“This way,” Manny says, steering me through the crowd. “The car is already booked, and the hotel is expecting you. We can go straight in and—”
“I’m not going.” I stop. Manny stops too. He folds his huge arms, raising one eyebrow.
“No?” He tilts his head. But there’s a twinkle in his eye, like he knows.
I shake my head, starting to smile. “No.”
“I knew there was something up, the way you packed your board bags. Not the usual configuration, is it?”
My grin widens. Manny knows me so well. I always pack my own boards, not trusting anyone else with them, making sure they’re stacked properly, the fins carefully stored.
I turn to the porter who’s waiting, his gaze moving between us both.
I tuck some money into his hand, then lift the top bag from the trolley.
It only holds two boards; a gamble, I know, but I’ve never minded taking chances.
I grab the smallest bag from Manny’s trolley; an Ocean’s Curl bag, monogrammed with my initials, the fabric black with a tropical floral pattern I helped design.
“I have a plane to catch,” I say. “And I want you to have a holiday. So take the suite at the hotel— No, I already cancelled your room,” I continue, as he begins to protest. “You look after me so well, Manny, you deserve it,” I say, my voice rough. “Now I need to look after myself.”
Manny regards me for a long moment. “Where are you going?”
“Indo,” I say. “Anna’s place. I need a break.” My voice cracks. “From… From everything. And everyone.”
“Everyone?”
“You were right.” I blink back tears. “He’s no good for me.”
Manny nods, once. Then he reaches out, pulling me into a hug. I can smell his aftershave, his clean male scent that always reminds me of home, of a time when I had one. “You taking your phone?” he rumbles.
I nod, my head against his chest. “Only because I have to,” I say. “But I won’t be answering it. Message me if it’s really urgent.”
“What about Sol?”
I lift my head, gently pushing against Manny’s hug until he lets go. “I sent him an email. Asking for some time off. He has plenty of other clients to deal with, anyway.” My manager is known as Sol the Shark for a lot of reasons, and I want to keep him onside. “He seemed okay with it.”
“Well, I guess there’s nothing else to do but tell you to be careful. And have a good time. Call me, if you need me. I’ll be there for you.”
“You always are, Manny.” I reach up to kiss him on the cheek.
“Have fun relaxing. I’ll be back in time for the next comp.
” I shoulder my bag, my board bag in my other hand.
“See you later,” I say before I start crying, before he can say anything to dissuade me, before I change my mind.
But at the same time something flutters in my chest, something I haven’t felt in a long time.
Excitement.
I head towards the check-in desk, not looking back.
Axel
The beach is almost deserted. I stroll along the golden sand, my feet crushing spiral patterns left by bubbler crabs painting the beach overnight with their designs.
Today feels as though it’s going to be a good day, a day where the shadows of my past might stay away.
Still, I don’t let the hissing waves touch my bare feet, sticking close to the sandy pathway beneath the palms.
I might live alone, but I’m never completely alone.
There’s always someone to talk to if I want to be around people, and having my own small business helps to keep me part of the community.
After I lost Susie and everything fell apart, I needed to keep myself busy.
I’ve always worked with my hands, and building something beautiful felt like a good way to heal.
It helped, a little. The private cabins are built along the stretch of beach facing the surf, shaded by whispering palms with hammocks strung between them, pebbled pathways leading from one to the other.
They’re not for just anyone; I let them out to those few friends who still bother with me, offering them somewhere to come and relax, get away from it all, whenever they need.
Or, as I’m doing for Anna, friends of close friends.
I stop to replace a couple of white pebbles that have been knocked out of place, restoring the serenity, the sinuous lines of the path.
I prefer things to be orderly, everything in its place.
The cabins are raised on stilts, positioned so each has a view of the water, yet doesn’t overlook its neighbour.
Anna’s cabin isn’t locked. I don’t lock any of them.
The locals know me and what I do. They wouldn’t abuse me or my hospitality that way.
But it never hurts to check, so I turn the handle and open the carved wooden door.
Inside it smells slightly musty, mixed with the tang of the beach.
There’s sand on the floor and, as I open the shutters to let in fresh air, I make a mental note to bring the broom when I come back to stock up the linens and food.
Otherwise, the place is in pretty good order.
I wipe down the small kitchenette, open the cupboards and large closet to make sure nothing is lurking inside.
A few small lizards scuttle out, disappearing between cracks in the wide floorboards.
Then I stick my head in the bathroom, with its sink and toilet, a washing machine and dryer concealed in a tall cupboard.
The shower is outside, hidden behind a carved screen like the one at my place.
There’s something about a tropical island that makes showering outside seem like the most natural thing to do, I guess.
I continue cleaning, adjusting bits and pieces until I’m happy with how it looks.
Then I turn to the bed. The huge four poster is hung with snowy white mosquito nets, which are knotted around the timber uprights.
I undo them, shaking out the folds, making sure they’re clean and insect-free.
I wonder for a moment about Jade, and why she might be coming here, what she might be looking for.
If she’s a friend of Anna’s, she should be all right.
I’ll leave her in peace. Hopefully she’ll do the same for me.