“Excuse me, could you tell me what floor Lilavati Gordon works on?” I ask the receptionist.
“I can’t give you that kind of information, I’m afraid. I can leave a message, if you like.”
Wow. Security around here is tight. That’s good, I guess. I wave away her offer. Lili said it was an emergency, so I take a punt and follow the signs to the emergency department. They won’t let me in because I’m not a patient, relative or staff, but when the doors open for someone else, I catch a glimpse ofLilavati and some other doctors working on someone who looks to be in bad shape. I head over to a nurse who’s working on a computer behind the triage desk.
“Hi. I was just having lunch with my girlfriend, and she got paged to an emergency. I didn’t want her to miss out on her dessert. Do you think you could get this to her?” I hold up the bag.
“Who is your girlfriend?”
“Lilavati Gordon. She’s an anaesthetist.”
The nurse’s eyebrows hit her hairline. Maybe it’s not just me she’s spiky with. Good to know.
“Lili has a boyfriend?” she squeaks, before she realises how rude the level of surprise in her voice sounds. “I mean, um, I didn’t know.”
“It’s pretty new.” I give her that winning smile that didn’t work on the redhead on the beach, and doesn’t seem to work on Lili. Luckily, it works now.
“Of course, leave it with me. I’ll make sure it gets to her.”
I lean forward and scoop up a pen and Post-it Note pad from the desk. I scribble Lili a quick note, tuck it inside the bag, write her name on the outside and hand the lot to the nurse.
“Thanks. Much appreciated. Have a good afternoon.” And I saunter out into the sun, happy with the way that went, even if we didn’t get that meet-cute nailed down.
The rest of the afternoon disappears under a lava flow of paperwork until I can’t focus on the numbers anymore and need to take a break. I have just enough time to finish shaping the board I’m working on before my friend Josh Markham arrives to catch up for dinner.
“Oi, dickhead,” I hear as I’m studying the line I’ve just created. I take a lot of care with every board I make, but this one has to be beyond perfect. It’s for Matty Taylor, who wants it in time to test out the new design we developed together before the next big competition.
Pushing the protective goggles I’m wearing onto the top of my head, I turn to see Josh and two tall, lanky guys with red hair—one in the sharpest suit I’ve seen in a while and one in jeans and a T-shirt—picking their way through the organised chaos of blanks and half-finished boards.
I pull Josh in for a man-hug.
“Good to see you, man,” I say as we step apart.
“Ant, these are my buddies Will and Ben Carter. Guys, this is Ant Stevens. Best damn board shaper in Sydney. And he makes a pretty drinkable coffee too,” Josh says as he swats away the foam dust I just left on his T-shirt and jacket.
“Good to meet you, Ant,” one of them says. Ben, I think. Will is busy looking around the brightly lit space.
“You too.” I dust off my hands as best I can before shaking theirs.
Josh and I met in the surf when we weren’t much more than kids. We’d both wagged school because the waves were great that day. We were sitting out the back of the break, minding our own business, waiting forthewave, when a pod of dolphins dropped in on us. Scared the crap out of us, but it was one of the best experiences of my life. Afterwards, we bonded over potato scallops and chocolate milkshakes. The post-surf meal of champions. We’ve been friends ever since.
He’s recently back in Sydney after years spent living overseas. Although we’ve always kept in touch, we haven’t managed to see much of each other since he got back last year, but we have squeezed in a couple of surfs. Last time we caught up, he shocked me with the news he’d just got engaged. We’ve beentrying to sync our schedules and meet up for a celebratory dinner, and we’ve finally managed it.
“Still liking the board?” I ask Josh, who bought one of my stock boards within days of landing back in Sydney.
“Loving it. As I expected. But looking at this, I’m thinking I might need a custom design.” Josh examines the board I’ve been working on. He has a good eye for a surfboard.
“This one’s for Matty Taylor.”
Josh whistles. “Matty is the current world champion,” he tells Ben and Will, who look impressed.
“I can do you something similar, but it’ll cost you. Designed and hand shaped by me? Set you back a few thousand.”
Josh just laughs. I know he can afford it. And he knows I won’t charge him the going rate.
“I’m in the market for a new board,” Will announces, which gets another laugh from Josh.
“Yeah, you might need training wheels on one of these beauties.”
