The three women lie in a diagonal, their towels aligned towards the sun, at the far end of the beach. Lake Wakatipu is so vast that they might be by the sea, but there are giveaway signs that they are not; the sand is more like shingle – hard, like a bed of concrete might lie a few inches beneath it – and a dozen or so ducks bicker to their left. After a chilly morning, it’s now surprisingly warm. The sky is blue, and there’s barely a breath of wind. The water is deathly still.
Polly has been at the beach for about an hour, and her skin shines from sunscreen and perspiration. Faith was already here, and Jessie turned up a little later looking sheepish. She didn’t say where she’d been, but Polly has a pretty good idea, given she disappeared at the same time as Miles. Faith called her out immediately, though.G’day, stopout!she yelled, loud enough that it turned a few heads. Faith didn’t notice how Jessie was wounded by that remark, how she turned away to hide her shock. It’s surprisingly conservative behaviour for someone who Polly suspects is quite promiscuous. But it’s a strange group, this. That’s what happens when you’re travelling – Polly remembers that from her gap year. When you’re in a strange country, far from home, the social barriers that normally keep people apart are removed, andyou band together with people even if you have very little in common. Here they are: three women from three different continents, all behaving like they’ve been friends for years. Jessie and Faith met via a Facebook group called Solo Women Travellers NZ. When they spotted Polly sitting on her own at The Globe they approached her and introduced themselves. Polly is glad of it – hanging out exclusively with Miles and his friends for the next fortnight could easily have sent her mad.
Polly turns, shifting on to her back, and spots Miles, who kicks off his flip-flops and carries them in his hand. She waves, and he waves back.Stopout. If any logic were applied, someone who’s endured what he has would be very cautious about embarking on a one-night stand. But there is seemingly no stopping the cretinous impulses of young men. Her brother included.
Miles stops and beckons Polly towards him. Polly doesn’t move, just turns her palms upwards, and Miles repeats the gesture. His face is serious. Polly sighs and gets to her feet, then plods towards him.
‘Hey, sis,’ Miles says, leaning in.
Polly recoils slightly from his hug – she doesn’t like being touched when she’s all sweaty. ‘Good afternoon, Miles.’
He straightens up. ‘I need to brief you on a couple of things.’
Polly rolls her eyes behind the lenses of her shades. She looks over her shoulder at the girls, checking they’re out of earshot. ‘Oh, great. And what have you done now?’
‘It’s nothing serious.’
‘Okay.’
‘Firstly, I told Jessie that our surname is Davis.’
‘Oh for—’ Polly shakes her head. Questions pop into her head but they largely answer themselves. ‘So, I’m Polly Davis? Brilliant.’ She doesn’t like lying for him – it doesn’t come naturally. She didn’t think lying came naturally to him, either.
‘Sorry about that. But it’s for the best.’
‘Is it? You’ll tie yourself in knots, deceiving people like this.’
Miles rakes his fingers through his hair. ‘I panicked, okay? I’m sorry.’
She sighs. ‘Right.’
‘Also, I received another email. Another Caira voice note.’
‘Oh.’ Polly wrinkles her brow. ‘What did it say?’
‘“I hope you’re enjoying New Zealand.”’
She shrugs. ‘It was pretty well documented that you were going to New Zealand.’
‘I know; I’m not particularly worried about it.’
‘Have you told the police?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Good. Then you should forget about it.’ She places her hands on his shoulders. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Come on, then, Miles Davis’ – the reassuring smile she’s forced disappears – ‘oh, bloody hell –Miles Davis?You really are a moron.’
They walk over to the girls. Faith is sitting up, watching them, and Jessie lies on her front, propped on her elbows and reading a book. Some small talk ensues: benign chatter that is at odds with the awkwardness created by whatever Jessie and Miles got up to last night.
After a few minutes, Faith stands. ‘Who’s coming for a swim?’
‘Sure,’ chirps Jessie, sitting up and arranging her hair into a high bun.
Polly looks at the water. It’s a clear tea-green for the first few yards and then it’s dark and pondlike – a far cry from the inviting cyan seas found in places like Greece and Thailand. ‘I’m good here, thanks.’
