Page 62 of Nothing Without You

‘I thought so,’ Evie replied.

Bert looked down at the ground. ‘I hope you don’t think bad of him. He’s a good man.’

‘Oh, Bert. I would never think bad of him. He’s lovely. Kind. Gentle. Anyway,’ she sighed and blinked a few times, the words coming out louder than she had intended, ‘my father’s gay. He’s a really good person also.’

Bert got such a shock, he spat his drink out on the grass to the side of where he was sitting. Wiping his hand across his face, his eyes wide, he stared at Evie. ‘What? How could your father be gay?’

‘It’s a long story, but he tried to live a normal life and so he got married. Mum and him had me and then, when I was a teenager, they separated. He came out then. My mum and I still love him as much as ever.’ She felt an ache in her chest. It was a long time since she had seen her mum or dad. One day, when she’d sorted out her life, she would go and visit, or maybe they could come and see her. Sipping her drink, she looked at Bert. ‘Everyone’s different.’

‘It’s a changing world alright. Who would have ever thought I would employ a girl in my bait shop? Everyone is different.’

Evie cast a cheeky grin his way. ‘Was it a good decision to hire me?’

He leaned over and clinked his glass against hers. ‘Best bloody decision ever.’

Chapter Seventy-Three

Evie had every second Friday off. Bert would work that day and then she worked the rest of the weekend. Sometimes he came in and sat on his stool, talking to her and the customers. Other times he went fishing with some of his mates, and on those days, she’d be in the shop by herself. Today, however, it was her day off, and although she’d spent most of the morning catching up on her cleaning and washing at home, this afternoon she was going fishing.

Rose had given her an account number that she could deposit rent into every week at the post office. Now that she was paying her way, she didn’t feel so indebted to Chris, and once she had some more money saved, she would find somewhere else to rent. Surely he would make more money out of holiday tenants than the small amount she paid him each week.

A good-sized gutter that was perfect for catching dart and bream, wasn’t too far from where she walked out onto the beach. The gutters moved with the currents and tides, and she had been watching this one when she walked each morning. Now she had a few hours of daylight left, and she intended to catch some decent fish. She wore her old denim shorts and a T-shirt that had ‘Bert’s Bait Shop’ emblazoned on the back. Thankfully she’d also worn a Sloppy Joe as the wind was picking up, and a cool breeze blew across the waves towards her. It wasn’t ideal, casting into the wind, but the gutter was deep and she didn’t need to throw too far out.

Within half an hour her creel was full of fish. Another hour or so and she would have enough to stock her freezer. She reminded herself that perhaps she had caught enough, after all she would have to fillet them all when she got home. Casting her rod out as far as she could, she looked towards the horizon. More giant waves rolled in out the back, and when she looked harder, she could see five or six dolphins riding the waves as the breaks curled over and pummelled towards the beach. The dolphins’ grey bodies were large and easy to see, the clear water a playground for them as they weaved in and out, occasionally leaping over the crest of a wave to the calmer waters out the back.

She was so focussed on the dolphins that it took her a minute to register that something was pulling on her line. The waves often pulled hard, but this was different. Her line whirred as the drag came on and she held tight, stepping back to make sure she was balanced.

A voice beside her made her jump. ‘Flathead? Mulloway?’

Quickly glancing sideways in the general direction of the voice, she hoisted the rod up hard. ‘Probably.’

Her entire body tensed and she wound steadily, holding the rod up higher and then letting it down again.

She didn’t take her eyes off her line again, nor did she speak. Reeling in and walking backwards, she pulled hard, time and time again, the fish putting up such a good fight that she didn’t think she would get it in. Eventually she did though, and as she walked backwards up the beach, she dragged a mulloway up through the small waves, until the silver flapping fish was above the water line. The man who had spoken to her knelt beside her as she ran her hands over the scales. The fish was a beauty.

Wriggling the hook from its mouth, she picked it up and looked at it for a while before walking down to the water’s edge. She held it, clenching it as it squirmed and fought between her hands. When she was knee-deep, she let it go. She stood still, looking out across the ocean for a long while before eventually turning around. Gazing at the water that swirled around her feet, she slowly walked back through the shallows. When she reached the water’s edge, she looked up, straight into Chris’s eyes.

Chapter Seventy-Four

They stood staring at each other, and she noticed his well-shaven face and neat hair. He wore old board shorts and a faded T-shirt, his hair short and still as blond as it always was.

‘You’re back,’ she finally said

‘I am.’

‘I thought you were away for another month. I’m about to look for somewhere else to rent.’

‘Don’t you like The Magic Fish?’

‘I love it. But you could get a lot more rent for it as a holiday house. I can’t afford that.’

By now the sun had sunk below the horizon and heavy, dark clouds scuttled across the sky. ‘It’s going to rain,’ Chris said. ‘How about we talk about this under shelter.’ He held his palm out. ‘It’s starting to spit. Let’s go. We’re going to get wet.’

Chris picked up her creel and bucket and she followed him up the beach, her rod in her hand. They hadn’t gone far when the sky decided to empty, heavy drops turning into a steady barrage of rain. ‘Can you run still?’ he asked.

She didn’t answer him, instead taking off, her legs moving fast as she sprinted ahead of him and up the beach. She laughed when she looked around and saw him also running, his arms laden with the creel full of fish and left-over bait in the bucket.

The rain continued to pelt down, and by the time they reached the veranda of The Magic Fish, they were both soaked. Chris’s car was parked in the driveway, and she watched him as he put down the creel and shook his head. ‘Are you going to ask me in?’ he said, a broad smile crossing his face.

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