stretching, promotions and interviews, rehearsals and performances.
If she lost all that, what would she do?
She hadn’t felt this low since she’d broken up with Vasily, her Russian boyfriend, who had left her for a lovely blonde dancer from the Netherlands.
Such a dreadful blow that had been.
For eight years, Eva had loved good-looking Vasily Stepanov and his sinfully magnificent body. They had danced together and lived and loved together, and she had looked on him as her partner in every sense. Her dancing had never been more assured, more sensitive. Her life had never been happier.
She’d learned to cook Vasily’s favourite Russian dishes—borsch and blini and potato salad with crunchy pickles, and she’d put up with his outbursts of temper. She’d even taken classes to learn his language, and she’d hoped they would marry, have a baby or two.
Getting over him had been the second hardest lesson of her life—after that other terrible lesson in her distant past. But now the devastating news about her hip was an even worse blow for Eva.
Sipping her rich, thick chocolat chaud, watching car tyres swish past on the shiny wet street, she found herself longing for sunshine and she remembered how easily the sun was taken for granted in Australia. A beat later, she was remembering the beach at Emerald Bay, the smooth curve of sand and the frothy blue and white surf.
And, out of nowhere, came the sudden suggestion that it made perfect sense to go back home to Australia for her surgery.
She could ask for leave from the company. Pierre was already rehearsing a new Clara for The Nutcracker, and the understudy was shaping up well. Eva was, to all intents and purposes, free. She found herself smiling at the prospect of going home.
She would make up some excuse about needing to see her mother. It wasn’t a total lie. It was years since she’d taken extended leave and it was at least two years since she’d been home, and her mum wasn’t getting any younger. If she had the surgery in an Australian city hospital, she’d have a much better chance of flying under the radar than she would here in ballet-mad Paris.
There might even be a chance—just a minuscule chance—that she could come back here to Paris as good as new. She’d been researching on the Internet and had read about a leading dancer in America who was performing again after a hip replacement. The girl was younger than Eva, but still, the story had given her hope.
And, Eva thought, as she drained the last of the creamy rich chocolate, if she was returning to Australia, she might as well go to that school reunion. She’d had an email from Jane Simpson telling her that Griff was undecided so, if she went, she was unlikely to have the ordeal of facing him.
She would love to catch up with everyone else. It felt suddenly important to her to chat with people who lived ‘normal’ lives.
Yes, she decided. She would go.
As soon as this thought was born, Eva was hit by a burst of exhilaration. This was swiftly followed by a shiver of fear when she thought about Griff, but she shook it off.
It was time to be positive and brave about her future. Perhaps it was also time to lay to rest the ghosts of her past.
THE BAY HAD changed a great deal. Griff and Tim were surprised and impressed by the new suburbs and shopping centres that had sprung up in their home town. The school was almost unrecognisable, with a host of extra buildings, including a big new gymnasium and performing arts centre.
At least the fish and chip shop looked much the same, painted white with a blue trim and with big blue pots spilling with red geraniums. And the natural features of sea, sky and beach were as alluring as ever. Now, though, smart cafés graced the prime spots along the seafront, and there were neatly mown parks with landscaped gardens.
The guys remembered paddocks of prickly bindi-eye weeds that they’d had to run across to get to the beach, but now there were very civilised paved walking paths, and carefully planted vines crawled over the sand dunes to hold them in place.
Nevertheless, the three friends had a great afternoon trying to recapture the fun of their youth, falling off surfboards, getting sunburnt, donning snorkels, goggles and flippers to explore the striped and colourful fish and coral on the inshore reefs that rimmed the headland.
Griff was certainly glad that he’d come. It was refreshing to spend some quality time with friends whose links stretched way back. Despite his high-powered job, or perhaps because of it, he’d lately found himself going to too many dinner parties and concerts with the same snooty circle, rehashing the same old conversations, the same narrow views of politics, the same tired jokes.
Now, as the sun slid towards the west, washing the sky with a bright pink blush that lent gold tints to the sea, the trio returned to their hotel to shower and change for the reunion.
Griff, changed into pale chinos and a white open-necked shirt with long sleeves rolled back to the elbows, checked his phone, half expecting a message from Amanda, even though they’d broken up. He was sure she would be still keeping tabs on him. She’d had plenty to say about his ‘boys’ weekend’.
They’d had another row, of course. He’d accused her of not trusting him. She’d claimed she would trust him if he put a ring on her finger.
In the end, she’d walked out and the next day she’d sent a taxi to collect her belongings.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t the first girlfriend to leave in this manner, but his love life was a hassle Griff didn’t want to think about now. After an afternoon of sun, sea and mateship, he was feeling more relaxed than he had in ages. He wanted to keep it that way.
* * *
The trio were crossing the wide stretch of mown lawn in front the Emerald Bay Golf Club when Griff came to a sudden halt, as if he’d slammed into an invisible glass wall.
He’d caught just the merest glimpse of a slim, dark-haired woman on the side balcony overlooking the golf course and he’d known immediately that it was Eva.
Hell, she wasn’t supposed to be here.
But here she was—wearing a sleeveless white dress, and laughing and chatting with a group. Even at a distance, Griff recognised her. No other woman was so slim and toned and poised. No one else had such perfect deportment, was so naturally elegant.
Hell. Now Griff knew he’d been fooling himself. His confidence that he could see Eva again and remain indifferent was shattered.
He was back in the past, remembering it all—helping her to adjust a pair of goggles and then teaching her to skin dive, helping her with her maths homework, dancing with her at the school formal. She’d worn a long silky dress in an aqua colour that exactly matched her eyes, and she’d made him feel like a prince.
He’d been saving for a surfboard, but he’d spent all his carefully hoarded pocket money on Eva’s birthday, buying her an aquamarine pendant on a silver chain.
‘What’s the matter, Griff?’ Barney’s voice intruded his thoughts.
Both Tim and Barney were staring
