Sunlounger - the Ultimate Beach Read (Sunlounger Stories Book 1)

by Belinda Jones

  ‘Ray – you know I can’t just up and leave work.’

  ‘Sure you can. Hand in your notice. Tell them you’ve had enough.’

  ‘It’s not that simple. You’ve got a job to go to out there. They’re even paying for your flight! I’ll need to sort something out before I go, get organised, hand in my notice for my flat.’ My mind starts buzzing as I think about all the things I’ll have to do.

  ‘So, come in a few months?’ Ray’s hand is tracing the outline of my shoulders and I involuntarily shiver. He always does this to me when he touches me.

  ‘What? And just leave you with all those beautiful Ozzie surfer chicks that you won’t be able to keep your eyes off?’ I know I’m being juvenile but something makes me say it.

  ‘Amy.’ I look up at him through my eyelashes and notice that he has got his ‘serious face’ on. It has to be my favourite expression of his – the way he crumples his nose up and furrows his eyebrows together – God, he’s gorgeous. ‘Would I be suggesting you move half way across the world with me if I was about to run off with another woman?’ I smile sheepishly.

  I sigh. He’s right. I really need to learn to trust him.

  ‘So…’ He swiftly climbs off me and stands in front of the long mirror in his bedroom, sucking his stomach in as he does so. ‘How will I fit in alongside all those Australian lifeguards?’ I collapse in laughter. Maybe this is a good idea. Maybe it is time to go give Sydney a try.

  It’s twenty-three hours later and I clear immigration in a blur. Even the sign saying ‘Welcome to Sydney’ does little to cheer me up. This wasn’t how I imagined it. For weeks now I’ve been picturing the scene – me, looking not in the least bit jet-lagged and wearing something understated yet amazingly fashionable, stepping out into the arrivals lounge to be swept up in Ray’s arms. I’d be so excited I could hardly breathe and, when he eventually lets me go, I’d look around and take in the familiar surroundings. The blueness of the Australian star-studded flag, the local families, decked out in checked shirts and board shorts laughing and slapping each other on the backs, the yellow taxis with their drivers leaning against the bonnets breathing in the Australian sunshine.

  But right now, I’m oblivious to it all, because, as I walk through the arrivals gate, all I can see is Ray.

  It all happens too quickly. He’s there suddenly, holding me close to him, whispering in my ear and telling me how much he loves me, how much he’s missed me and how glad he is that I’m here. I can feel the muscles in his back and can smell the Giorgio Armani aftershave I bought him at Christmas. I inhale his smell and feel scared. Is this the last time we will hug like this? Is my world about to come crashing down?

  ‘I promise you… I swear, it’s over. It was a mistake. Amy?’ Ray reaches upwards and tenderly brushes away the tears that are currently rolling down my face. I feel so sad it’s as if I could break in two, right here in the arrivals lounge.

  ‘I… I… We…’ The words are stuck in my throat. Suddenly a thought hits me: what if I don’t say anything? What if I just forgive him and forget about it all? I could start afresh. I’m home, home.

  ‘Baby, come here. I want this to work. I want you. Please.’ Ray looks at me pleadingly and his forehead creases with worry. ‘I need you. It’s over with her. A silly mistake. I love you.’ I pull him close. Just forgive and forget, Amy. Forgive and forget.

  Ray takes my suitcase from me and I follow him out through the automatic doors. The heat literally takes my breath away as I step out of the air-conditioned airport and into the Australian sunshine. It’s only 8am but the heat is intense. A bit like my emotions.

  We drive along the expressway in Ray’s convertible. Ray holds my hand the entire time, giving me sideway glances and I can see the worry etched on his face.

  ‘Ray, let’s talk when we get to the flat. I’m too exhausted right now. I need to get my head straight,’ I say. I wind down the window as he talks about life in Australia, letting the Sydney air caress my face. Sydney is a long way away from the UK, maybe I can just leave all my problems back there? Before long we enter a tunnel and when we come out the other side the city is upon us, jagged skyline stretching up into the clear blue sky. The golden top of the Sydney tower glints in the early morning sunshine.

  ‘Nearly home,’ says Ray as he overtakes a taxi and zigzags through Paddington, up towards Circular Quay. I look over at him and he catches my eye. ‘I promise it’s over.’ He’s staring at me so intensely I feel myself melt into his eyes. We’re here. In Sydney. Together. A new start.

  Yes, a new start. I bang my fist down on my leg adamantly and take a deep breath. The sunshine can’t help but make me smile and as we zoom past the cream and green Manly ferries to our right, I know I’m not going to talk to Ray about his answerphone message until later. I don’t want to break the spell. I don’t want to break us.

  ‘My lady, your castle awaits.’ We have pulled up in the Rocks area of Sydney and Ray ushers me out of the car, beaming as he points towards a huge glass-fronted apartment block. Within minutes we are zooming upwards in a lift to the fifth floor and, when Ray opens the door to the flat, I can’t help but gasp. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows form the perfect frame for a view of Sydney that I never thought I’d ever see. Circular Quay, with all the ferries coming in and out of the harbour, lies in front of us, with the Sydney Harbour Bridge just to the left. To the right, I can see the vast expanse of the botanical gardens, bathed in sunshine. I turn towards the bridge again, and gasp as I notice tiny ant-like figures moving one by one up the bridge.

  ‘I was thinking you’ll probably want to catch up with Lydia tonight, right? She’s your best mate and you haven’t seen her in years. I know how much you have missed her. So I called her and booked you both a table at a restaurant in Bondi. I’ve gotta work this evening anyway.’ He’s right I guess. Lydia and I used to go to school together when we were younger until her family moved her out to Australia when she was 16. We’d remained friends ever since – emailing and Skyping as often as she could. But I’m, barely listening to Ray as he chatters on. Instead my mind is filled with Sydney. Bondi. The Botanical Gardens.

  Throwing my handbag on the floor by the art deco sofa, I fling open the doors to the roof terrace. It’s a bit bare for my taste – all wooden decking and no plants or flowers – but the view is just incredible. A subtle Sydney breeze floats past me and into the apartment and I close my eyes as I take in the sounds of Sydney: the low-bellied groan of the ferries’ horns, the chitter chatter of Japanese tourists, the aboriginal music being played by a street entertainer at the Quay.

  ‘Babe, I’m going to jump in the shower.’ Ray seems to have decided he is forgiven and smiles over at me from the living room. ‘I came straight to the airport from the beach so I’m a bit sandy. You want to join?’ He winks at me cheekily.

  Something plunges in my stomach at that moment. He wants to have sex with me. Now. Here. Has he had sex with her in this flat? Did she join him in the shower after his daily surf at the beach?

  ‘I’m just going to sit here if that’s okay. I’m tired.’ I look up at him, praying for some reassurance, something, anything that will prove to me I’m overreacting.

  ‘Sure thing, babe. I’ll be out in ten.’ He pulls his t-shirt from his back, grabs a towel and retreats into the en-suite bathroom.

  Then I see it: Ray’s mobile. It’s lying on the worktop next to his keys I can hear him whistling happily in the bathroom. ‘Waltzing Matilda’, how “Australian”

  Slowly I move towards the phone and before I know what I’m doing I’ve picked it up. The screen flashes up at me and as I press the message button I hold my breath, promising myself that if I find anything incriminating I will walk away now. Away from all this. The first few messages are from Hugh, Ray’s agent, confirming shoot times and a couple of meetings with Ray’s director. As I scroll onwards a few random numbers appear, but once I check on them I am reassured: they are either from Ray’s mum, Anne, with a new phone n
umber, or a guy from Ray’s surfing club arranging an early morning swim. But it’s only when I breathe a sigh of relief and go to snap the phone shut that I notice a text under the name ‘office.’ Since when does Ray have an office?

  Has she arrived? Managed to get rid of her this evening yet? Because I have some very naughty things I want to do with you in that bed!

  The phone falls from my hand and clatters to the floor.

  Chapter Two

  Two weeks later

  To: Amy Anderson

  From: Sammy Green

  Subject: 2 weeks in… and time to cheer up

  Right misery guts, enough of these ‘woe is me’ emails. Ray is a twat. I always knew he was. Come on you – you’re in Sydney for Christ’s sake. Get out there and have some fun. There must be loads of fit Aussie men to entertain you. How’s the new flat? I never had you down as a Manly girl. Couldn’t resist the beach views hey? How’s job hunting going? I’m sure something will come up soon. ‘Just look for a sign’ as my mother used to say. Missing you more than you know X

  Travelling via ferry is amazing. Whereas the tube in London was always stifling hot (despite the minus-zero temperature outside), the ferry from Manly over towards the Sydney Harbour made the half an hour commute sheer bliss. Standing out towards the front of the ferry I let the breeze swirl through my hair and inhale the salty air, promising myself that today will be a better day.

  ‘It’s beaut out there, hey?’ Turning sharply to my right, I see a guy, okay, a HOT guy, resting his elbows on the rails of the ferry and staring out towards the harbour. His nutmeg-coloured hair falls into his eyes and he has a small splattering of freckles on the tip of his nose. ‘You’re a Pom, right? Can tell by the moon tan.’ He gestures towards my reddening shoulders.

  ‘Sorry, I don’t understa—’

  ‘Your skin. You haven’t got that Aussie suntan yet. Must be a Brit.’ He smiles kindly at me and I feel my spirits rise slightly. ‘I’m Will by the way.’

  ‘Nice to meet you – I’m Amy. The Pom.’

  It may only be 8am in the morning but fuelled by the sunshine I start chatting to Will about my move to Sydney and what happened with Ray. Before I know it, the ferry has pulled up into the harbour and we are both walking off, grinning at each other as we clock a local aboriginal man blowing on his didgeridoo amidst a crowd of tourists.

  ‘Great ta meet ch’a, Amy.’ Will pulls me in and gives me a hug. ‘And forget about Ray. Maybe Aussie guys are the way forward, hey?’ He winks at me and then disappears into the throng of Sydney commuters making their way to the Central Business District. I smile down at the ferry ticket in my hand where he has scribbled his number. Maybe things are looking up.

  To: Sammy Green

  From: Amy Anderson

  Just thought I’d let you know that I’m aiming to pull myself together today with a trip to the Botanical Gardens and the Opera House. And yes, I’ll see if I can spot any Great White Sharks in the harbour for you! Send my love to Max – hope you two are still happy and smiling. X

  Peeling off my cardigan I look around me and breathe in the Ozzie sunshine. I’d just spent an hour walking around the Sydney Opera House and marvelling at the shell-like roof and the views across the ocean towards Taronga Zoo. I hadn’t been lucky enough to get tickets to see an opera but my tour had been accompanied by the muffled plucking of guitars and violins from one of the concerts taking place inside one of the halls. It really was a once in a lifetime experience.

  Having grabbed a can of Coke from a nearby kiosk and some stunning lilies from one of the flower stalls by the ocean, I marched purposefully into the Botanical Gardens and along the harbour front. All around me colours merged together – the blueness of the sea, the sharp white light where the sun hits the waves, the purples and blues and pinks of exotic flowers sprouting out from the flowerbeds nearby.

  Finding a spot in the shade, I pull out the local newspaper from my bag – the Sydney Morning Herald – and start browsing the job pages. My red marker pen waits eagerly in my hand as I search patiently for a job that I would love to jump out at me. Gardener? Nope, I can’t even keep a cactus alive. Surf teacher? I don’t know how to surf – Ray had always said he would teach me.

  Ray – just thinking his name makes me feel as if I have been knocked backwards by a huge wave. What was Ray doing now? Who was he with? Was he with her?

  Since arriving in Sydney I’ve tried to put what happened to the back of my mind. I’d emailed Sammy loads of time since that day, saying I was going to just return to the UK. What was the point of staying in Australia when the only reason I had come was because of Ray? But every time I wrote the words ‘back to the UK’ an email pinged back immediately from Sammy, telling me not to be so stupid. ‘You’ve always wanted to live abroad and have an adventure,’ the email would say. ‘So embrace it with both hands. maybe it’s time to start afresh.’

  And you know what? Sammy was right. I was determined not to let Ray ruin this for me. Sydney was my new chance. My new opportunity for a fresh start. Now all I needed to do was to find a new job. And a new flat I think, grimacing at the thought of my spider-infested house in Manly that I was currently sharing with a couple of Danish backpackers.

  The ‘beep beep’ on my phone alerted me to a text message from Lydia

  Found a job yet? My friend has a friend who knows a friend who might have something.

  I smile. You’ve got to love Lids.. Last night, whilst out for drinks, I’d even admitted to her my deepest, darkest secret.

  My phone beeps again.

  And don’t think I’ve forgotten. YOU SHOULD TELL HIM.

  Bugger, she obviously hadn’t forgotten.

  Whilst thinking what to type back my attention suddenly waned as I spotted a young guy – probably in his early thirties – dragging what looked like seaweed along the path and up to a grassy patch at the top of the gardens. I watched as he slowly started to move the seaweed about, carefully analysing his work as he did so. Intrigued, I got up and moved a bit closer, only to notice he was actually spelling something out with the seaweed. I squinted: ‘Will you merry me’.

  Oh my goodness! Grabbing my bag I raced over to him as quickly as I could and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around, his face flushed with exertion and what looked like sheer panic.

  ‘Sorry, I couldn’t help but notice—’

  ‘Yup, I’m going to propose. Think it’s time I asked my Chrissie once and for all.’ He gestured toward the seaweed and his hand-made sign.

  ‘Wow, that’s so romantic.’ I smiled in what I hoped was an encouraging way. ‘But you do realise you’ve spelt ‘marry’ wrong. It should be an A instead of an E.’ I pointed towards the offending word and he blanched.

  ‘Ah, bleeding heck. I knew I’d muck it up. You’re a saviour, you know that?’ He scurried towards the seaweed and quickly rearranged the word.

  ‘Why don’t you add some flowers around it, make it look more romantic,’ I suggested, handing him some of the lilies I had bought earlier. I was hoping they would cheer up my bedroom but I suddenly realised this guy needed them more.

  An hour later and the ‘marry me’ sign looks perfect. Whilst Ned (that’s the guy proposing) is on one knee asking his girlfriend of ten years to marry him, I’m hiding behind a tree snapping photos on his camera phone. After all, everyone wants a photo of their proposal, right?

  ‘You know, you should do this as a job. Plan proposals, I mean,’ says Ned. He and his fiancé and I are now sitting at the outside bar of the Opera House, having a celebratory beer. He’d insisted I join them. ‘I couldn’t have done it without her,’ he says to his fiancé, nodding towards me. ‘She literally saved my proposal.’

  A text from Lids pops up just as I have kissed the happy couple goodbye and waved them off.

  Proposal planner, hey? New job here you come.

  I couldn’t help but smile. Maybe Lids was right.

  Chapter Three

  Three months later


  You know those days when despite everything going right, you just can’t help but feel lonely? I heave myself out of the salted water and push my wet hair out of my face. Behind me the waves bash and crash against my thighs, nearly knocking me over on a couple of occasions, and my surfboard bangs painfully into the side of my shins. Today has been one of those days. Professionally, things are going amazingly. I've spent the last couple of months putting together my plan for The Proposal Planner – my new business. At first I hadn’t thought the idea had legs – after all, how many men would actually use someone to help plan their proposals? But the more I spoke about it – to Lids, to Sammy over emails, even to the man at the local boozer – I felt like I was on to something. One guy in the pub even asked me for my card as he was thinking of ‘tying down the Shelia’ soon.

  However, despite my excitement about my new job, I couldn’t seem to shake this overwhelming feeling of sadness. I was lonely. Really, really lonely. I’d been in Sydney nearly four months now and had made a few good friends – other people in the surf class I was taking, the girl who made my smoothie every morning in the café in Potts Point, I’d even started chatting to the Aboriginal guy who plays at the harbour – but it wasn’t the same. Back in the UK, I had all of my friends – the girls from the magazine where I used to work, the ‘mad 7’ from my schooldays who I met up with every month for a boozy dinner and catch up, my sister, my mum, watching episodes of 24 with Sammy…

  Dragging my surfboard along the sand, I scan the beach for a quiet spot to lie down. It’s the middle of November now so every inch of the sand is covered with tourists – white Irish torsos and Brazilian bottoms are everywhere. I look up towards the famous Bondi Icebergs restaurant which is perched on a cliff top overlooking the beach. The balcony is littered with people, baking their bodies in the Australian heat as they watch the surfers battle with the waves below.