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“I was eight,” I smiled to myself.

“Eight? Wow. That’s younger than I thought.”

“My Dad taught Vinnie and me at the same time. Boogie-boarding to begin with, then we moved on to surfboards. He had the coolest longboard. It was white, with a big red stripe right down the middle. I used to lay it down on the back lawn and practice my pop-ups on it while he squirted me with the hose and tried to put me off.”

I smiled, looking over at her, my courage bolstered by the memories.

“I have no idea what that is, but it sounds very cool,” she smiled back.

“What?”

“Pop-ups. I don’t know what they are.”

“It’s when you go from lying down to standing on the board. Kind of the first thing you learn. It can be tricky at first, but you get the hang of it with a little practice.”

She nodded, and we fell into an awkward silence.

“Why do you want to learn?” I asked, desperate to break it.

She took a few moments to think about it. “I don’t know. It seems kind of… magical.”

“Magical?” I turned to her, intending to rib her good-naturedly, but the faraway look on her face threw me off. I was suddenly hot and bothered, and I knew it had nothing to do with the unseasonably warm summer night.

“Oh God – that sounds stupid doesn’t it?” She grimaced. “Ignore that. I can’t think of the right way to explain it.”

I gave her a small, indulgent smile and tried my best to recover. “It’s fine, take your time. It’s not a test, I’m just curious.”

She glanced over at me again as I fought hard to keep my expression neutral. The truth was, I found myself enjoying talking to her out here, in the semi-darkness, with the warm breeze teasing us. It was crazy, and it was the complete opposite of what I thought I wanted, but there you have it. I kept telling myself I could get up and walk away at any time, if it got too weird.

But I didn’t move.

Oblivious, she continued. “It seems like a metaphor, for life. I mean, skimming across the surface of the earth, not getting caught up in stuff you can’t explain. Being in control, rather than letting it control you… ” She shrugged self-consciously. “Or something like that, anyway. I don’t know.”

She was right. And she was intuitive. In some ways, she reminded me of Bridget.

“I liked ‘magical,’ personally.”

“Are you making fun of me?” She smiled.

“Not at all,” I chuckled, sitting forward again. “But you do realise you just gave me an intimate insight into your psyche with that answer?”

She looked flustered and I wondered why. I was only kidding. Mostly.

“I’ll teach you,” I said, from out of nowhere. “If you still want me to?”

She grinned, the first genuine smile she’d given me. She had little crinkles in the corner of her eyes.

And dimples.

MAGICAL, SHE’D SAID.

I don’t really know what I expected her to say, but that wasn’t it. And what unnerved me even more was her explanation of wanting to be the one in control. It had struck some long-buried chord deep within me, one she couldn’t have even known was there, simply because I didn’t know it was there.

The more I thought about it, the more anxiety pecked away at me. What the hell had possessed me? I’d spent my entire life trying to straighten things out, make them simpler and uncomplicated. And yet here she was, a tangle of question marks, and she had me jumping in without even bothering to properly think things through. I wasn’t impulsive – that was Vinnie’s domain. I was the sensible one, for God’s sake. And none of these feelings remotely resembled sensible.

I tried to talk myself down from the ledge, rationalising it. She seemed genuinely keen to learn how to surf, and it was something I could do well, and enjoyed. It made sense, didn’t it? I was doing her a favour, and I was doing Bridget a favour, and God knew, I owed her enough, after all she’d done for me. I was doing the right thing here. And besides, familiarity breeds contempt. The more time I spent with her, the more differences between her and Em I was likely to see. That would make things a whole lot easier.

Standing in the kitchen doorway last night, the light illuminating her from behind, she’d looked so much like Em that I’d almost given myself a heart attack. It wasn’t her fault, and it wasn’t fair to avoid her just because of it, either. She didn’t deserve that, and as I stood at the kitchen sink, watching the morning sun glittering on the harbour, I was determined to put all that behind me. If I was going to do this, I had to make a real effort. None of the half-hearted shit I’d become famous for lately.

It was just surfing lessons, after all. It wasn’t a marriage proposal.

When I opened the door to her shortly afterward, she stood in front of me wearing a pair of red shorts and the same white lace-trimmed singlet from last night. The straps of her red bathing suit were clearly visible beneath the singlet and, despite my best efforts, I couldn’t help but wonder what that bathing suit might look like on the rest of her. Two pieces or one?

“Hi,” she smiled shyly. “By showing up here exactly on time, I’ve probably forfeited any cool points I might’ve had, but I’m really keen to get started. Does it show?”

I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Just a little bit. Come on in.”

She was enchanting, and completely oblivious to what that was doing to my insides. In a blinding flash, I realised something.

She knew nothing about me. I knew nothing about her. It was a fresh slate. I could be anyone I wanted to be. I didn’t have to be the bereaved boyfriend or the pitiful loner. I could reinvent myself. It was an intoxicating thought.

She stood in the hallway, waiting, her hands clasped behind her back like an impatient schoolgirl.

“Are we going to the beach?” she asked, as I closed the door. “It’s a beautiful day for it. I was at Whale Bay yesterday morning, just watching, trying to pick up some pointers.”

I’d almost forgotten about that. Already, I could feel the fantasy beginning to circle the drain.

“Were you there early? I thought I saw you,” I said, hoping she would say I was wrong, that I’d imagined it.

She nodded, looking uncomfortable suddenly, although she did her best to hide it. She probably saw everything. I didn’t know how to explain it to her without having to go into the whole sordid mess. Maybe I couldn’t reinvent myself after all.

“Yeah, that was me,” she said carefully. “I went out to watch the sunrise. It was really pretty.”

I waited for her to ask about what else she might’ve seen, but she didn’t.

“Best place to watch it from,” I said.

“I can see why.”

That was it. No awkward questions. No probing. No interest at all, really. She just looked embarrassed. Not what I expected, at all. Apparently, we were just going to leave it there. She was there, she saw – possibly – what happened, but it was none of her business. Or she didn’t care enough to ask. Either way, I felt like I’d been let off the hook. Maybe I could keep the awkward truth at bay for a little while longer after all.

“Anyway, no. Not going out to Whale just yet,” I said, buoyed by the thought. “You really have to know what you’re doing to surf there. Those rocks’ll chew you up and spit you out, even on the calmer days.”

She screwed up her face, wincing. “Ouch.”

“So, today we’re staying right here, in my backyard. And once you’ve got the hang of popping up, we’ll go to Manu. It’s safer there, better for grommets.”

“Grommets?”

“Beginner surfers, like you.”

“I’m a grommet? Not sure I like the sound of that.”

“Not magical enough for you?” I teased. “You’ll get used to it. Do you want something to drink before we start? Coffee, tea, water?”

“Coffee would be great, thanks.”

“How do you have it?”

“Lots of milk, two sugars,” she said, glancing around the living room.

Jesus, she even took her coffee like Em. I brushed it off. Lots of people had plenty of milk and two sugars in their coffee. I walked into the kitchen, grabbed a couple of mugs and flipped on the kettle.

“I like your place,” she called from the living room.

“Thanks.”

Em was responsible for the interior look. I’d let her do whatever she wanted, concentrating on the outside. Maintaining the gardens, the lawns, the shrubbery. That was my forte, not the cushions or the wall colour or the furniture. My only stipulation was that we had to have a comfy couch, and we did. Five years later, everything was almost exactly the same as it was when she disappeared. Changing the décor meant facing things I wasn’t ready to face just yet, so I told myself it was easier to just leave everything as it was.

I concentrated on making coffee, catching Maia’s reflection in the kitchen window. She was staring at the photos on the wall. The ones of Em and I. The ones I couldn’t bear to take down. Shit. This could get awkward. So much for reinventing myself. My whole life was up on that wall, staring her in the face. Staring me in the face.

I stepped out of the kitchen and stood there, leaning back on the counter, watching her. I wasn’t sure what to say. She had to have noticed the similarity between her and Em by now. Even though I could only see her face from the side, I knew she had. She stood there, transfixed, then backed up slowly and sank down into the couch behind her.

“Who is she?” she asked quietly, turning to me. “The girl in the photos?”

The girl in the photos.

My heart wanted to argue that she wasn’t
just
the girl in the photos, but my head realised very quickly that that’s exactly what she was. She was past tense, not present.

“Emily,” I said, just as quietly. “Her name was Emily. She was Bridget’s daughter.”

“Was?”

Was, as if she were no longer here, not as if she were dead. This was where it got tricky. “She disappeared, five years ago. We don’t know what happened to her.”

She looked as if she was going to cry and I hoped like hell she wasn’t. I was only just managing to hold it together myself, but seeing her cry would tip me over the edge, I could feel it. The unresolved guilt, followed by a barrel full of grief, was burning a trail up from my gut, making its presence felt. I swallowed it down. Not here, not now.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

The kettle switched itself off, and I just nodded in reply, turning my back on her and grateful for something to do. I took my time stirring both coffees, then walked into the living room, handing one to her. She took it, looking up at me as I wracked my brains for something to say.

“When I met Bridget, she said I reminded her of someone. She didn’t say who,” she said finally. “She was your girlfriend?”

Was. Is. Who knew what she was – what
I
was – anymore.

“Yeah,” I mumbled, taking a deep breath and blowing it out slowly.

I sat down beside her on the couch. The horror of that night and the following weeks crashed into me. Endless days and nights of uncertainty. Mounting anger, building right along with frustration. Guilt. An empty bed. A heart that wouldn’t stop breaking, over and over again. Each morning, waking up with the hope that today would be the day. Each night, going to bed alone, with a fresh wound.

Maia’s voice came at me from a distance, until I found myself fighting my way back to my living room again. “Sorry, what?”

“I said no wonder Bridget was a bit strange the first time I met her. She looked like she’d seen a ghost.”

I didn’t see any need to lie. “I think we were all a little blown away, to be honest. The similarities are…”

“Yeah,” she murmured, turning back to the photos on the wall opposite. “I can see that.”

She looked anxious, scared even. I tried to lighten the mood and make her feel more at ease. “They say everyone’s got a doppelganger. Y’know, someone who looks just like them, somewhere in the world? I guess you found yours.”

I followed her gaze. Photos of Em, of both of us, of both our families. I knew them all by heart, yet I found myself seeing them for the first time, only from a different perspective. What did they say about me, what story did they tell?

“It must be weird for you – for both of you,” she said.

I tried to shake it off. “Must be even weirder for you, finding out you have a double.”

She gave me a weak smile. She’d arrived here just minutes ago, excited. Now she looked close to tears. Maybe Alex should forfeit his nickname to me.

“Yesterday was her birthday,” I said. “Same day as Vinnie’s, three years apart.”

Maia cringed. “God. What horrible timing. I can’t believe she was so nice to me – and she gave me a job! I feel terrible.”

“Bridget’s an old hippie at heart. She believes in signs, fate, karma – all that stuff.”

“What about you? Do you believe in signs, fate, karma and all that stuff?”

Normally, I was so good at dodging questions like this. A shrug, a smart-ass quip and a quick change of subject. I was an expert. But not with Maia, not here. Maybe it was the fact that she stared back at me so openly, so honestly that it made me want to open up to her, or maybe it was something else. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.