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Will put a finger on Cleo’s lips to stop her saying the words he knew were on the tip of her tongue. ‘Don’t… I couldn’t bear it if you say you don’t want to see me again. You mean too much to me.’

Cleo gave a wry smile.

Will wished he’d told her that before now. Why had it taken something like this to force him to reveal his feelings? This wasn’t the way he wanted to do it. He’d never been good at the emotional stuff. Dee used to admonish him for it. He took hold of Cleo’s hands which he realised were shaking.Had she even heard what he said? ‘Let me think about this. There must be something I can do, some way I can fix things.’

Cleo shook her head. ‘I don’t think so, not now. I’m sorry, Will. I really am. I was enjoying our… friendship.’ She pulled away from him.

Stunned, Will rose. ‘Maybe I should go.’

‘I think it would be best.’

Something inside Will snapped, as Cleo’s door closed behind him. He gazed upwards, seeing none of the beauty in the night sky which normally filled him with delight. Instead, tonight all he saw was the darkness, a darkness which reflected his mood. Damn Joy Taylor! How dare she frighten Cleo, frighten her so much she wanted to sever ties with him. He couldn’t leave it like this, he wouldn’t. He’d talk to Joy Taylor one more time, make her see sense. He couldn’t bear to see Cleo so shaken, to accept she’d rather stop seeing him than risk whatever Joy Taylor had in mind.

*

Next morning, Will awoke determined to put things right. He’d find Joy Taylor and give her an ultimatum. She could do what she liked to him, but she had to leave Cleo alone. There were two days of the food and wine festival left, and after all her work, Cleo deserved to enjoy them, not to be worried a madwoman would appear again to make weird threats.

As he ate breakfast, Will tried to work out how he could approach Joy, realising he didn’t know where she was staying. There were numerous hotels and motels in Bellbird Bay and the surrounding area, not to mention two caravan parks. He’d only ever seen her at the beach or the surf club – apart from the gallery opening and the community meeting, he remembered. But he did have her phone number – she’d called and texted him so many times.

He fingered his phone, then made another coffee, downing it quickly to give himself the courage to contact her. He could be playing into her hands, but it was worth the risk. On the last occasion they spoke, Joy had pleaded with him to take her surfing on the beach on the other side of the headland. He’d refused, of course, telling her it was only suitable for experienced surfers, not beginners like her. Maybe… no. He slid his phone back into his pocket. But the wilder beach was exactly whereheneeded to be this morning to clear his head. Then he might be in a suitable frame of mind to make the call.

The high waves pounding on the shore meant only the more risk-averse surfers dared to face them this morning. Will knew most of them and wasn’t surprised to see Ted Crawford there with young Zack. The boy was a strong surfer who could hold his own with many of those much older than he was.

Seeing the pair took his mind off Joy Taylor for a bit. He hadn’t spoken to either Ted or Zack since Zack told him about the dugongs. He was able to fill them in on his progress. Kerri-Ann had helped him put together a much better paper than he could have composed on his own, and he’d submitted it to the council sub-committee.

‘With a bit of luck, we won’t need to take legal action, Ted,’ he said, to see Zack grin with delight. ‘Kerri-Ann was a godsend. With her background, we were able to produce a pretty sound document. The committee is due to meet the week after the surf carnival, so all we can do now is wait.’

‘Good man!’ Ted clapped him on the shoulder.

But, as soon as he was back in the van, heading for home to shower and change, ready for his first class of the morning and what should prove to be another busy day, Will’s mind went back to Joy Taylor. He couldn’t let it go. Without allowing himself to think it through properly, he took out his phone and, finding her number, pressed it to make the call.

There was no reply, so he left a message for her to contact him.

All morning, Will fumed, as he made polite conversation and taught a series of groups the basics of surfing which were so familiar to him, he could go through them without thinking. Unusually for him, this morning his mind wasn’t on his work. It was with Cleo at the wine and food festival, hoping against hope Joy Taylor hadn’t decided to make another visit to her stall, that she’d reply to his message so he could arrange to meet her, and… He hadn’t decided what he’d do when they did meet.

It was late afternoon, and shadows were already falling across the beach. Will had almost given up hope of receiving a reply from Joy and was considering calling again, when he caught sight of her picking her way across the beach towards him.

‘You called me,’ she said, sidling up to him and putting a hand on his arm.

Will flinched and averted his eyes from her cleavage.

‘I knew I’d find you here, and you’d be finished for the day,’ she said, seemingly immune to the anger he was making no attempt to hide.

‘How dare you confront Cleo,’ Will said, pulling away from her. He couldn’t bear her touch. ‘Your beef isn’t with her, it’s with me and…’

‘Oh, dear, you’re angry. I do like a man with spirit. What did that bitch tell you? She’s no good for you, Will. She can’t give you what I can.’ She sneered, and Will caught sight of what Cleo had seen in her eyes – a desire to inflict as much hurt as she could if she didn’t get her way.

‘Don’t talk about Cleo like that. She’s worth ten of you any day. She and I…’ Will paused. What was the connection between Cleo and him? Last night she’d all but finished any relationship they might have – and all due to this woman standing in front of him, made up to the nines, wearing an outfit more suited to a dance hall than the beach. Why was he even talking to her?

‘My, my, she has tricked you, hasn’t she? But she’s not here. We have the beach all to ourselves.’ Joy moved closer.

Will could smell the sickly perfume she was wearing. He glanced around to discover she was right. The last of the beachgoers had left. They were alone on this stretch of beach, out of sight of the esplanade and surf club, the stalls and awnings set up for the food and wine festival only visible in the distance.

‘Stop right there, Joy.’ Will held up his hands. ‘I have no idea what gave you the idea there could ever be anything between you and me. I taught you to surf. I’ve taught lots of people. I don’t make a habit of forming relationships with them. I certainly never gave you any reason to believe there was anything more.’

‘Are you sure about that?’ Joy’s voice took on a bitter note. ‘What about the times you…’

‘I don’t have time for this,’ Will interrupted her. ‘I’ve tried to tell you nicely, but you persist in ignoring everything I say. Let me be blunt. I have no intention of ever being anything other than your surf instructor and, as of now, I refuse to be even that. You can find someone else to pester. But what I strongly advise, is that you go home, leave Bellbird Bay. I never want to see you here again. And if you bother Cleo again, I won’t be responsible for my actions.’ Will felt his hands curl into fists. He wasn’t a violent man. He’d never hit anyone in anger, but Joy Taylor tried his patience.

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