The Burnout(104)

She brings her hands together, but the ripple of applause has already begun. Keith is clapping, Simon is clapping, Herbert cheers hoarsely, and before long the whole ballroom is alive with stamping. I feel hands grasping mine and shaking them. A voice murmurs, “Well done!” in my ear, and now, to my disbelief, we’re being ushered up to the stage.

“This is insane,” Finn mutters in my ear.

“This isn’t for us,” I say. “This is for Terry.”

Tessa has come onto the little stage with us, and to my surprise she steps to the front, pushes her hair off her face, and surveys the audience.

“I don’t much like speaking up,” she says in trembling tones. “But sometimes you have to. By speaking up when they did, Finn and Sasha gave my dad twenty years of teaching surfing on Rilston Bay that he might have lost. For my dad, as some of you know, teaching surfing is life. Was life,” she amends, then draws breath. “So they gave him his life.”

The applause rises to a roar, and I glance at Finn, feeling a bit overwhelmed. Mavis lifts her hands and gradually the crowd quiets.

“To celebrate this special moment,” she says dramatically, “I would like to change the program of events. I now ask Finn and Sasha to do me the great honor of unveiling my new work, Titan. In this new piece, I depict the vulnerability and beauty of humanity in all its rawness, all its power, all its nakedness.”

At the word nakedness, I sense the crowd perk up with interest. Maybe Keith’s right. Maybe it’s a naked kissing couple! Naked Young Lovers 2. That would bring in the tourists, all right.

Jana, looking a bit miffed at the change in arrangements, shows Finn and me where the rope is to unveil the artwork. We take hold of it together, then glance at Mavis.

“I am delighted to present my most ambitious, significant work to date,” she announces to the audience. “I give you Titan.”

Together, Finn and I pull on the rope, and gradually the drapery over the massive structure falls to the ground, revealing—

Oh my God.

It’s Herbert. It’s a massive twelve-foot statue of Herbert, totally naked, made from some rough gray-white clay. Fully anatomical. Fully.

There’s a muffled squeak from the audience, which sounds like Cassidy, and a couple of startled shouts, and now some laughter, and finally the clapping starts. Herbert is standing, looking totally composed, a mysterious little smile on his face, while Simon looks like he might keel over in horror at any moment.

Sensing that our role is over, Finn and I make our way back down from the stage and are immediately surrounded by people, all asking questions. Meanwhile, Cassidy has elbowed her way over to us and is busily fielding all the inquiries like some sort of publicist.

“They’re staying at the Rilston with us.… Yes, they used to come here as children.… Did you know Sasha is our resident wellness guru?”

“I thought they were a couple,” I hear Tessa telling someone else, over the hubbub. “So I wrote them a message on the sand, ‘To the couple on the beach.’ ”

“They are a couple!” Cassidy wheels round, overhearing. “They’re definitely a couple.” Her eyes twinkle. “I’ve seen them at it.”

“Are you?” says Tessa, glancing at me uncertainly. “I thought …”

“Aren’t you?” Cassidy stares at us, her face gradually falling in dismay. “Oh, you two! No! Don’t do this to me, guys. Aren’t you?”

The clamor of the room seems to die away as I look at Finn’s warm face.

“We’re not a couple,” I say softly to him. “Friends, though.”

“Friends always.” He takes my hand and kisses my fingertips. “Always.”





Twenty-Six



It’s Finn who helps me carry all my stuff down to the station, after I’ve said my fond goodbyes to Simon, Herbert, Nikolai, and been hugged about twenty times by Cassidy.

The two of us stand on the platform, occasional spatters of rain hitting us on the head, and we don’t say much. Occasionally one of us will send the other a wary little smile as though to say, Are we still good? And the other will return it. Of course we are.

“Never did get to the watercolor kit,” I say, after one of the silences becomes too unbearable. “I was going to paint Rilston Bay. Become the next Mavis Adler.”

“Always save something for next time,” replies Finn. “How many steps did you get through in the end?”

“Oh, at least twenty-five.” I smile ironically at him. “Can’t you tell? I’m transformed. I’m a whole new me!”

“I think you are,” he says seriously. “You’re transformed from the person I first met.”

I flash back to the way I was when I first encountered Finn. Exhausted, defensive, binging on chocolate and wine. He’s right: I am a different person now. More assertive. Stronger. Calmer. Fitter.

Then I remember the angry sociopath I thought I heard in the dunes and look up at the balanced, wise, kind guy in front of me.

“Same,” I say. “You’re a whole new you.”

“I’d better be,” says Finn with a wry smile. “The old me is unemployable.”

The sound of the approaching train comes faintly through the air, and I feel such dread I’m almost giddy.