by Clarke, Lucy
She reached for the nearest thing she could find: his laptop.
‘What on earth are you doing?’
She lifted it above her head.
‘Good God, Katie! You need to calm down.’
She felt the weight of it in her fingers and wrists.
‘That’s got all my contacts in it. It’s very important to me.’
She glanced at the ripped cream pages discarded on the bed. ‘Just like my sister’s journal is important to me.’ She remembered Ed’s look of surprise when he found out Mia kept a journal. The next morning she’d discovered him leafing through it, Checking there is nothing to upset you, he’d told her. ‘This whole time you’ve been lying to me, trying to cover your tracks—’
‘I was protecting you.’
‘Protecting me?’ Katie realised how desperate Ed must have been to get his hands on the journal to check Mia hadn’t implicated him. But Katie had been careful not to let it out of her sight. Until today. ‘You manipulated me into going for a walk so you could take my bags up to the room—’
‘I mean it, Katie! Put it down before you do something you regret.’
Perhaps it was his tone or the implication that she wasn’t in control that spurred her on, but she found her arms drawing back. Then with all her strength she launched the laptop across the room.
She heard Ed’s sharp intake of breath and then a loud, satisfying crunch as it hit the wall. Glass and silver plastic shards rained down on the carpet, the screen splitting from the keyboard. An angular dent was left behind in the paintwork.
‘Jesus Christ!’
Calmly, she picked up the journal and hooked on her backpack.
Ed was staring at her. ‘You are not the woman I fell in love with.’
She caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair was loose around her face and her make-up had worn off with the day. Her eyes danced with anger. The faded backpack with its fraying straps and promise of adventure no longer looked so incongruous on her back.
‘You’re right, Ed. I’m not.’
*
She followed signs to the tourist information office. There she found herself standing before a volunteer who circled a hostel on a map with an orange highlighter and said, ‘It’ll take you fifteen minutes on foot.’
Katie strode there in ten. She was shown to a dorm where three young women were getting changed. Hiking boots and sweat-hardened socks were discarded on the floor, and the room was thick with the smell of deodorant. Desperate not to pause, not to think, she struck up conversation and discovered that the girls, two from New Zealand, the third from Quebec, were on a ten-day outdoor experience and had just hiked a section of the cape-to-cape trail. They told her about the wide ocean bluffs and the crickets that sprang like firecrackers from the undergrowth, bouncing off their shins.
Half an hour later she found herself joining them in a bar that served pizzas the size of hubcaps. The hikers ate ravenously but Katie’s stomach was too knotted for food, so she drank wine and felt the liquid working through her like sunshine. In the next bar they ordered more drinks and played poker and Katie was declared a natural when she beat them following their own tricks.
Now they were in a packed bar where they had to shout to be heard over the rock band playing on a makeshift stage. They’d managed to shoehorn themselves around a table stained by ring marks. She set down her empty glass; her head felt light as if only distantly attached to her body.
‘I checked,’ Jenny, one of the hikers, who had muscular thighs and a wicked smile, was saying.
‘No way he’s single,’ the girl from Quebec countered, leaning forward so they could hear. ‘He does at least, what – ten, twenty expeditions each year? He must have bagged a hot girlfriend on one of them.’
‘He’s gonna bag another on this trip,’ Jenny said with a wink, and they all laughed.
Katie’s engagement ring cast a shoal of light across the table and she moved her fingers so the light swam. She had been thrilled when Ed presented her with it, glinting within a black leather ring box. It was a princess-cut diamond, set in a platinum band. She had fallen in love with the simple elegance of the ring and the idea of what wearing it symbolized.
‘You gonna keep it?’ Jenny asked.
‘Ditch it,’ the Canadian girl said. ‘Do something ceremonial – chuck it under a land train – a final fuck you gesture.’
‘No! Sell it!’ Jenny cried. ‘Spend the money on something he’d hate. Drugs, drink, male strippers.’
Katie laughed. Her lips felt numb. She yanked off the ring and pushed it to the bottom of her bag. ‘My round.’
The band continued to thrash at their guitars as she jostled at the bar, which was four deep with customers. A barmaid leant forward, a hand cupped to her ear to catch a drinker’s order who, after the second attempt at shouting, simply pointed to the draught and held up four fingers.
Was it this loud, Mia, in your dingy cellar bar? Did you have to lean close to Ed to be heard? Did he smell jasmine on your skin and spirits on your breath? Or did you flick him one of your hard looks that always infuriated him, only this time you turned up your lips in a hint of a smile, provocative: ‘Well, then?’
You were wearing my dress. You never asked. It was too short on you. I never said, but I thought it looked tarty. Perhaps that’s what Ed liked. His friends must have been impressed, a group of suits watching the barmaid who could neck shots like a landlord, and who danced like a tease.
You might have been drunk – more than I am now? – but you knew what you were doing when you felt my fiancé against you. I can see his fingers peeling the thin straps of my dress from your shoulders. Did he kiss you first, or was that too intimate for you? Did you think of me, even once? Your sister! His fiancée! Did you take a second to imagine how I’d feel?
The crowd pushed from behind and she was squeezed tight between thick, sweating bodies. She imagined Ed and Mia this close, his mouth on her neck, her pierced navel, the insides of her thighs. Did he prefer her long legs and her taut stomach? Had he thought Mia more beautiful? Or was it that he wanted to taste her wildness – just to sample a different dish?
How must it have felt to be like you growing up, Mia? With no boundaries, or limits, or expectations heaped on you. You once said I was the sunny-haired and sunny-natured sister who made daisy chains with her friends. You cast yourself as the dark-haired, dark-spirited one, who prowled the beaches alone. But I never once saw us like that. I saw you as freedom, as the open sea. And I longed for it.
Clumsily, she undid the top buttons of her dress and rearranged her bra so her breasts looked fuller. She smoothed her hair behind her ears and licked her lips.
The man beside Katie, whose tanned arms bulged out of a cut-off shirt, winked at her. She smiled, glancing up at him through her eyelashes. When the person in front of him moved away from the bar, he gestured for her to take their place. She slipped into the gap and as the crowd closed around them she felt the heat of his body against her back.
‘What’s ya name?’ he asked, his breath hot in her ear.
‘Mia,’ Katie told him, feeling something inside her pulling loose.
‘You are fuckin’ hot, Mia.’
‘Then maybe you should come and find me later.’
She ordered double shots for the table and carried them back on a silver tray sticky with spilt drinks. They drank them in one, slamming the glasses down on the table. Then they found a space on the cramped dance floor that smelt of sweat and beer. Alcohol and music pulsed through her as she swayed her hips to the band’s rhythm. The other girls laughed and joked as they danced, but Katie felt far away now. Voices cut across one another, glistening bodies spun and wove around her. She coiled herself into sensual shapes and even when the others had gone to sit down, she danced on.
People were turning to watch as she writhed, her eyes closed, her hands running through the air. Is this how you danced that night? Is this what Ed wanted? She danced harder, not caring wha
t people thought, not caring that she was drunk.
The man in the cut-off shirt moved in front of her and put his thick hands around her waist. ‘Hello, Mia.’
She laughed at the sound of that name, throwing her head back. Above, a mirror ball spun, reflecting her image in a thousand broken fragments.
The man slipped his knee between hers. Their hips pressed together and she wrapped her hands around his waist to steady herself. Then his mouth was covering hers, wet and hungry. She could taste salt and whisky.
They danced on, him spinning her until the lights on the dance floor blurred. She was sweating beneath her dress and her head was beginning to ache.
She broke away saying, ‘Toilet.’
‘I’ll come,’ he said, and she let him take her hand and lead her there. He waited outside.
The cubicle smelt of urine and vomit. She had trouble locking the door, and stumbled as she took down her knickers, clinging to the toilet roll dispenser to right herself.
‘Okay in there, hon?’ a woman shouted from the next cubicle.
‘Fine,’ she managed, her head spinning.
As she washed her hands in a sink blocked with paper towels, she knew the man would be waiting. She would have sex with this stranger with his thick arms and greedy kisses. She would do it because she was too drunk not to. She would do it because she wasn’t the woman Ed fell in love with. She would do it because she didn’t care enough to say no.
She wove from the toilets, her hands still damp. A firm grip encircled her wrist and she was pulled away.
*
There were voices somewhere beyond where Katie lay. She opened her eyes a fraction, shifting as the world came into focus. She raised a hand in front of her face to shade the sun streaming into the room. Where was she?
She swallowed and her mouth felt swollen and dry. She’d been drinking. She paused on an image of Ed grasping a fistful of pages. They had fought, broken off their engagement. She felt for her ring: gone.
She pushed herself upright, saw the empty bunks beside hers and realized she was in a hostel. The hikers. She’d gone out drinking with the hikers. Then she remembered a man’s mouth covering hers. Nausea overwhelmed her and she lurched from the bed. She took several deep breaths, her head pounding.
What the hell had happened? Had she had sex with him? They had been at the bar together, she was certain of that. She’d told him her name was Mia. Then later they were dancing. She remembered going to the toilets … with him?
She glanced down and realized that she was still wearing last night’s dress. It was twisted around her stomach, a beer stain spread over the skirt. Her heart was racing. She wanted to crawl into the ground. So this is how it feels to be you?
She began tugging at the dress, ripping the buttons open and yanking it over her head. She flung it to the ground and stood panting in her underwear. What have I done? She slumped against a table, knocking a plastic water bottle over. It rolled to a stop beside a note. It had her name on it and she picked it up.
Katie,
Thought you might be needing these. [Two hand-drawn arrows pointed from the page, indicating the water and a pack of headache tablets.] Hope you didn’t mind being
chaperoned back. He didn’t seem like your type!
Love, Jenny
P.S. Remember, sell the ring! Buy yourself a flight to New Zealand and come stay!
It had been Jenny who had grabbed her arm and led her from the pub toilets. Now she remembered the man, an angry vein pulsing in the neck like a threat, protesting that he would take Katie home, but losing.
Relief swam through her. She swallowed two tablets and then wrapped herself in a towel and left for the showers. Finding an empty cubicle, she turned the shower dial to hot and stepped in. Scalding water pummelled her scalp and turned the skin on her chest mottled red. Steam rose around her and she filled her lungs with it. She washed her hair and smoothed soap over her body, letting the water rinse her skin clean.
Without warning, tears began flooding her face. Deep sobs rattled through her body, drenched by the noise of the shower. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, her head throbbing with the enormity of what had happened. Their wedding would have to be cancelled; there would be guests to tell, arrangements to unravel. But it was bigger than that. She wasn’t just losing her fiancé, but the life they’d planned together – the home they’d imagined building, the children who’d have one day played there.
Look at what you’ve done to me, Mia! I’m alone in Australia, sobbing in a hostel shower. My engagement is over. And now I’ve got nobody. You’ve ruined everything! And for what? A quick fuck in a corridor?
In a burst of movement, she yanked the dial to cold. Icy water poured over her head and down her spine. She gasped, her eyes wide. Instantly she was alert, her skin tingling. She cut the shower and caught her breath, her anger fizzling out.
As cold water dripped from her body, Katie thought back to Mia’s entry. You filled six pages with details of that night. At the end of it you asked yourself, ‘Why did I screw him?’
Your answer was a single line at the bottom of a page: ‘Because I’m a bitch.’
But I’m starting to understand more about you, Mia. I don’t believe you were the dark-haired, dark-spirited girl you’d have had us think. I know why you slept with Ed. You wanted to take the most important person in my life from me.
Just like I took Finn from you.
16
MIA
Western Australia, February
She dived down again, her body a slick underwater arrow, toes pointed, fingers together, hair in a smooth dark trail. She cut through the sea like a fish, her eyes open to the blurry blue sting of salt water, her ears filled with its fizz and echoes. Then she pulled her arms to her sides, arched her back and kicked upwards, breaking the surface and feeling the sun on her face.
There was no breeze and the sea settled around her. The shore was empty and the karri forest beyond, still. She floated on her back with her eyes closed. The air was thick and she could feel the weight of heat in it. She wished Katie was floating beside her, the sea making them weightless. The thought caught her off guard. It had been years since they’d swum together and she wondered why she still missed it with such a sharp ache.
She flipped onto her front and swam back in. Water streamed off her skin as she waded in to shore. She wrung out her hair and then shook the sand from her sun-crisped towel and wrapped herself in it.
She padded back to the hostel and dustings of sand trailed her along the corridor as she headed towards Noah’s room. There was no swell forecast so she was hoping to spend the day with him. Zani had told her about a deserted cove 20 kilometres up the coast, which a pod of dolphins regularly visited. She had emailed a link of how to reach it and Mia was planning to take Noah there.
She knocked on his door. She imagined stepping from her towel, and slipping into bed beside him, Noah’s body still warm. When there was no answer, she turned the handle and went in.
The room was empty: the bed had been stripped and his belongings were gone. Blood began to pulse in her neck.
She hurried along the corridor to Jez’s dorm. She knocked twice, then let herself in. A row of stripped bunks framed the room. She swallowed, telling herself there must be some explanation.
Clutching her towel to her chest, she moved outside and followed the perimeter of the hostel, which led her to the garage. She stepped into the musty dimness and waited a moment for her eyes to adjust. Save for the hostel’s shared surfboard, huge and dented with a missing fin, the rack was empty.
Then she checked the patch of gravel beneath the eucalyptus trees for his van.
Gone.
She jogged back inside towards the reception desk. Karin, one half of a Dutch husband-and-wife team who ran the place, asked, ‘Hey, what’s up?’
‘Where’s Noah? He was staying in room 4.’
Karin closed one eye and squinted towards the ceiling through t
he other. ‘Checked out,’ she said, opening both eyes again. ‘And the guys from dorm 7, too.’
‘What? When?’
‘First thing.’
‘Where did they go?’
‘No idea,’ Karin said, picking up a mug of coffee and blowing it cool. ‘They were talking about a good forecast. Aren’t they always?’
‘Are they coming back?’
‘If they are, they haven’t booked.’ With one hand she drew a blue folder towards her and flicked casually through its plastic sheets. ‘Nah, we’ve got nothing for a month.’
He couldn’t have left. Two days ago they’d lain on the grass and he’d talked about places he’d travelled to, of islands with no roads, waves that broke over kelp forests, fishes with wings and whales that sang. And she had pictured it all, imagining new adventures on shores fringed with two sets of footprints. ‘Was there a message for me?’
Karin opened her palms. ‘Sorry, darl. Not that I’ve been given.’
‘Mia!’
She swung round, expectant. But it was Finn. He was strolling towards her holding a piece of toast, jam dripping onto his thumb. ‘Good swim?’ he asked, then licked the side of his thumb clean.
‘He’s checked out,’ she said. ‘Noah’s gone.’
*
Finn looked at her closely. Her wet hair was slicked back from her face, and her eyelashes were stuck together in dark triangles. She grasped the top of the towel against her chest and he could see the tracks of dried salt water flecking her collarbone and wrist.
She looked so young: like the Mia of his teenage years who had waited outside his maths class to tell him her BMX had been stolen. He remembered that day. She’d been so distraught that after school he’d gone to the tip, found an old shopper bike with a bent wheel arch, and spent the weekend fixing it up. He’d shaved off rust, replaced the brake clamps and repainted it sky blue – her favourite colour. When he wheeled it round to hers on Sunday evening, she had grinned so hard that her eyes watered. He had loved being able to fix the problem, but he had no idea how to fix this.