Page 53 of Somewhere Only We Know

It would never be enough, I thought, but it was all we had.

Chapter 17

Australia

I opened my eyes and blinked in the afternoon sunlight. So this was Australia.

I’d only planned to lie down for a few minutes and read the next entry in Brontë’s book, but two hours had passed, and I’d had the most delicious nap. Outside my giant picture window the sky was the perfect shade of blue; I stretched, revelling in the crisp cotton sheets and the most comfortable mattress I think I’d ever lain on. Or perhaps I was comparing it to the biscuit-like consistency of my bed in Chitwan. Quite possibly.

My first impression of Sydney was one of colour, joy and all-round gorgeousness. I’d arrived by taxi earlier this afternoon, and already knew I’d made the right decision to follow Brontë’s itinerary and fly down under.

My last night in Nepal had been unexpectedly lovely. Skye had heard of a bar in Thamel which had live music playing, and insisted on me joining them for a drink. We spent a couple of hours singing our hearts out to covers of a random assortment of songs, from Coldplay to Beyoncé, and eating our way through piles of delicious little dumplings called momos. Then we walked down to a temple, and Skye and Marta stood beside me while I sprinkled some of Brontë’s ashes beside a golden statue adorned with garlands of marigolds. It had been a moving ceremony, completely unplanned and unrehearsed. But somehow it felt right to be leaving a tiny part of her in the country she’d so wanted to visit for herself. And now it had given me a plan, I would do this in each of the places she’d written about in her book. I felt confident that Brontë would approve, and it made my decision to carry on with her gap year more meaningful.

Brontë had written down the name of a hostel for her first night in Australia. I’d googled it and while it looked perfect for a twenty-three-year-old on a budget, I was ready for a bit more comfort. So, I’d checked into the Intercontinental Hotel, a two-minute walk from Circular Quay.

There was a posh coffee maker on the table opposite my giant bed. It made me think of Tiff, and how she’d teased me for staying at the Ganesh Guest House. This room had all the luxuries she’d said I’d prefer. She wasn’t wrong. She’d been really understanding about my need to leave Nepal when I’d emailed her about my change of plan. And rather than be annoyed, she’d asked if I’d consider coming back sometime. I hadn’t committed either way, but it felt very nice to be valued.

I got up, made a coffee, raided the complimentary biscuits and took them to the seat underneath my window.

I sipped my coffee, watching the world go by. Ahead of me was the vast green space of the Royal Botanic Gardens, further afield, the water with its rugged coastline, inlets and coves leading out to the North Shores and the Pacific Ocean. And if I pressed my face to the glass and looked to the left, I could see the shell-like structure of the Opera House.

Wait until Kat saw this view. I grinned to myself as I fetched my phone, took a picture and sent it to her. A message pinged back immediately.

Poor you! hashtag thoughts and prayers. Currently minus three degrees here, even the dogs don’t want to go outside. P.S. Sorry I shouted. I miss you, that’s all. We haven’t gone this long without seeing each other since you went to Bali. I was being selfish.

Don’t worry about it. My fault for chopping and changing my mind. I need to do this, Kat, not just for Brontë but for me.

I’m glad and it’s about time! Send me photos of Sydney and I’ll try not to be too jealous. Off you go and enjoy yourself xx

I would be doing that very soon. But first, George had asked to FaceTime me, and his call was due any second.

Right on cue, his face appeared on my screen. I recognised the background: he was sitting in one of our meeting rooms at work.

‘Hello, boss. Wow.’ His eyes widened as he caught sight of my location. ‘Cool view.’

‘Very cool,’ I agreed. ‘And I’ll be out there exploring it as soon as I’ve found out what’s been going on. I thought you were happy at ShopSwift?’

‘I was.’ He rubbed his thumb along his jaw. ‘But I’m working for Lee now. He has a very different management style to you and I don’t think he likes me. My probation period is up in four weeks. He probably won’t offer me a permanent contract. I don’t want that on my CV, so I think I should cut my losses and leave before I get kicked out.’

He wouldn’t be getting kicked out if I could help it. Good junior staff who turned up on time and were conscientious workers were gold dust. Bloody Lee Masters, I thought, gritting my teeth. Lee was the king of office banter and wanted everyone to like him. George was earnest and hard-working and probably didn’t even look up from his laptop when Lee was holding court – which must irk him immensely.

‘You’ll encounter lots of different management styles in your career,’ I told him, hiding my irritation. ‘Not all of them will suit you.’

‘He had a go at me the other day for not speaking up in a client meeting. But I couldn’t get a word in – he doesn’t know when to shut up. The client kept looking at his watch, but Lee didn’t get the hint.’

I laughed at that. Poor George. ‘I’m sure whatever you wanted to say was valid.’

‘You know me,’ he said glumly, ‘I’m happier doing the data analysis for client pitches than the presentations.’

‘Then tell Lee that,’ I urged him. ‘Don’t be afraid to express yourself. Ask for what you want. Then you have reasons to quit if the company can’t accommodate your request or won’t listen to you.’

‘So you think I should stay?’

‘It’s not up to me, it’s your decision. We spend most of our waking hours at work, so if you aren’t enjoying it, then you need to do something about it. Life’s too short, George. Besides, you’re only in your twenties. Now’s your time to experiment, try different things, explore your options.’

‘I guess.’ He paused. ‘I thought you’d be disappointed.’

‘I am,’ I admitted. ‘You’re an asset to ShopSwift. And I’ll miss you when I come back.’