Chapter 35
Bali
We had been driving for forty minutes when Ayu took a left turn at a mini roundabout and pulled into a parking space in front of a bakery store.
‘Here, Miss?’
‘This is it?’ I looked uncertainly at the shops and restaurants that lined the street.
His face fell. ‘Don’t you like it? I can take you somewhere else. Ubud Swing, or the waterfall, for nice photos? No problem.’
‘No, this is the right place,’ I reassured him. ‘It has been a long time since I was here, that’s all. I was only young.’
‘Everything changes, miss, nothing stays the same. Except the ocean, that is always the same.’
My heart squeezed. ‘Yes, I’m sure I’ll recognise the beach. That’s where I’ll start.’
He pointed across the street to a narrow road. ‘Follow the path and you will come to a beautiful beach.’
I got out of the car, and realised that without my phone I was entirely reliant on my driver to wait for me and take me back to Ubud. ‘I’ll see you back here in one hour?’
He flipped his car seat back until he was almost horizontal and pulled his hat over his eyes. ‘Take your time, miss. Ayu rests his eyes.’
I set off down the narrow road that Ayu had promised led to the water.
I passed a hostel, a scooter rental place and a pharmacy.
Cars and bikes were parked bumper to bumper on either side.
But as I walked on, the buildings became houses, the road became an unmade track and the traffic noise from the main street faded to nothing.
All the houses had offerings on their doorsteps: bamboo mats decorated with flower petals, marigold heads, coloured rice and a burning incense stick.
Offerings made as a sign of gratitude, I remembered.
I leaned closer, breathed in the delicious scent of sandalwood and vanilla and was hit with a sense of nostalgia. The aroma reminded me of home. Not my cottage in Honeybourne, but here. There was something about this place that resonated with me on a deep level.
Though I still didn’t recognise my surroundings, I felt drawn onward, every cell in my body urging me forward as if it knew the way.
My head buzzed as snatches of long-forgotten images emerged from my past. Another Maggie, a younger, lighter version of me, appeared in my mind’s eye like an apparition.
She was laughing, a flower tucked behind her ear, hair loose and tangled from swimming in salt water.
Cut-offs, bikini top and flip-flops. She was carefree and ridiculously happy.
Oh to be that happy again, I thought fondly.
The track narrowed again until it was no more than a footpath with trees on either side.
I heard the ocean before I saw it. The path changed to soft sand beneath my feet, and then I was out in the open on the palm-fringed perfect beach, the water lapping softly at the shoreline.
I slipped off Ayu’s sandals to feel the soft white sand between my toes.
It was just as I remembered. There were a few people dotted here and there, lying on towels; a group of young people laughing and playing cards, a mother watching her toddler in the shallows and several people swimming.
I set my bag down beside a driftwood log and shimmied out of my dress, unable to wait a single moment more; the ocean was calling me.
I walked down the beach and straight into the crystal turquoise water, revelling at the feel of the water on my skin.
I thought of the baby turtles Jackson and I had released onto this beach all those years ago, and how they’d made their way so instinctively to the water’s edge.
Imprinting their birthplace into their DNA.
I felt the same. This place was in my bones, part of my soul even.
I walked further out until my feet couldn’t touch the bottom and I swam and I swam.
Paradise.
I turned over onto my back and floated like a starfish, closing my eyes against the sun.
For a few minutes I let my mind wander. To the moment I met Jackson on my first morning. To the idyllic month we’d had, getting to know each other, falling in love; the delicious nights spent together on this beach. That summer had felt endless, magical, perfect.
Where was he now? Did he get to live his dream beach life, surfing and diving as he’d planned? Or was he a family man with a brood of children who’d inherited his beautiful skin and liquid brown eyes? Like Bronte’s.
Flipping over, I started swimming again.
A shoal of miniature fish flashed by me, the water so clear I could see their vivid stripes.
I swam parallel to the shore, searching the beach for memories.
The old turtle hatchery had gone, of course; I’d known about the project closing down years ago.
There was a beach bar and a couple of restaurants, with chairs and beanbags set up on the sand facing the ocean.
Much further along the beach, too far to make out much detail, was a rack of surfboards and some wetsuits hanging from a rail.
That might have been the dive school Jackson had been to, I couldn’t be sure.
Finally, I waded out of the water, dried myself on my little travel towel and sat down in the sun, allowing the memories to roll over me like gentle waves.
It was bittersweet to be here without Bronte. I cursed myself for staying away, for not bringing her here when I had the chance.
Why had I always been so sensible? It was a long way to go for a week when that was all I could spare away from work; the flights would cost a fortune … Excuses. Excuses.
How foolish I’d been, letting worry get in the way of doing something wonderful.
I dug my toes into the sand to the cool layer beneath and vowed that I wouldn’t hold myself back again.
What was that saying? Feel the fear and do it anyway?
Maybe I should get some business cards made with that on it.
I smiled at the thought before remembering my phone call with Anna.
I would be needing new business cards. Head of training and mentoring, I mused.
There was something appealing about the role.
It would be more people-focused than sales, and what I liked most about sales was getting to know our customers, what made them tick, what was important to them …
I stopped myself in my tracks. What was I thinking?
I shouldn’t be taking this lying down. Anna had made a commitment to support my application for the job of sales director if I agreed to the sabbatical.
I understood that Ron’s earlier retirement had changed things now that Wendy was ill.
But I was still me, Lee was still Lee. We should have been given an equal chance.
I shouldn’t have said yes so quickly; I should have asked for some time to think about it.
I flicked sand from my legs, brushing away the negative thoughts along with it.
I was here now, thousands of miles from home, and work could wait.
A new phone couldn’t wait, though. For starters I hadn’t brought a separate camera with me, and without a phone I couldn’t take any photos of this beautiful place.
Then there was my sister and her family to keep in touch with, and I’d got really into Instagram and following the Mum’s Gap Year hashtag.
The direct messages from women my age telling me that I’d inspired them to go travelling were lovely to read too.
And I also needed to reply to Jono; he’d no doubt find my monkey business amusing.
I was still smiling about our night together when I was joined on the sand by a man carrying a wooden tray of bracelets.
‘Australia?’ he asked, straightening his jewellery deliberately.
A good salesman, I thought; engaging me in conversation while simultaneously drawing attention to his bracelets.
‘UK,’ I replied.
One of the bracelets had a tiny shell in the centre, a row of blue and green beads either side. It matched my bikini perfectly. I was tempted, but I’d already bought so many bracelets this trip.
He noticed which one I’d spotted. ‘You want to look? I made them all myself.’
‘They’re very beautiful. But no thank you.’
The man untied the bracelet anyway and held it in his palm, gesturing for me to take it. ‘First time in Bali?’
‘Second.’ I told him. ‘I came here, this exact place when I was young, as a volunteer. There was a turtle conservation project on this beach, but it isn’t here anymore.’
He smiled broadly. ‘It is still here. It is new. A big building but still the same management.’
I sat bolt upright. ‘Is it? Where?’
He tied the bracelet onto my wrist. ‘You buy bracelet and I tell you.’
I laughed too and dug my purse out of my bag. ‘You are a good salesman; I’d give you a job.’
He shook his head. ‘No, no, no, you English persons all work, work, work. You want to be rich. But look.’ He waved a hand around him. ‘These are my riches.’
It had been a throwaway comment, intended as a compliment, but I saw his point.
My driving goal had been financial security for Bronte and me.
I’d defined myself by my job, as well as by my role as mother.
I’d lost Bronte and now it seemed the job I’d left behind had been lost too.
So where did that leave me? By comparison, the bracelet maker’s life seemed to be working out great for him.
‘You win,’ I said, paying him for the bracelet, which was now firmly fixed around my wrist. He adjusted the length and snipped off the loose ends of string. ‘So where is the turtle sanctuary now?’
He started to laugh, and pointed to a hand-painted sign fixed to the next palm tree along. I’d been sitting right next to it.
I read it and shook my head, grinning. ‘ Turtle rescue and conservation centre this way. You have to be kidding me.’