Chapter 3

We've been hiking for 3 hours straight, and Bing is still talking about Jane. She's a qualified RN. She spends almost all of her spare time volunteering for various youth organisations and homeless shelters. She has 4 sisters, the youngest one still in high school. Her Dad runs a family business that his grandfather started, but he's never liked it, so he's made plans to sell it to a cousin in a few years, when there's fewer dependents at home, so he can go back to study. Her Mum was a hairdresser but only worked part time here and there so she could be home for the girls when they were younger. I want to know more about Lizzy, but I don't want to ask.

"She sounds pretty serious, doesn't she? Have you thought about how that's going to play out? Girls like that don't fool around in relationships, Bing."

"I know. We're totally at the friend stage still. She won't go out with me on her own, but I really like talking to her. She talks about real things, real life. I've already talked about deep stuff with her, more than any other girl."

"Just be careful, Bing. That's how they draw you in."

"What do you mean? She's not in a cult. I just think she really cares about people and wants to help them."

"I'm just saying, Bing, people like that have different priorities and half the time they're helping people because they have serious problems too. You know enough about what happened to me when my Mum died. I can't be around people like that anymore. Aunt Cath surrounded me with people who just wanted to prolong my grief and feed my fears until I was incapable of stepping outside the house. Pretty sure they all sincerely thought they were helping me. You know my cousin Anne still can't leave the house. At least my Dad managed to recover his senses in time to see what was happening and get me and Georgie away from her."

"Woah, woah, woah!" Bing grabs my shoulder and turns me to face him. "Look, I hear you. Your experience was pretty extreme and yeah, you're living with some serious side effects. But you have to be reasonable, Darce. I get where you're coming from, but you can't lump all social workers in the crazy Cath basket. And Jane, well, yes, she's serious about her counselling and charity work. I just don't get the crazy vibe from her… it's not just that she's so beautiful - the more I talk to her the more I think she's got something special on the inside. She's totally not crazy but she's so much more than just a nice girl. I've met a lot of nice girls. She's different."

"You're right, Bing. It's your life, not mine. I just want you to have your eyes wide open." I shrug my shoulders and keep walking. I am not convinced Jane is really that different and I'm not convinced this isn't just another one of Bing's flash-in-the-pan hot crushes. I'm pretty sure he's not going to be happy about sharing her with all of her projects, and believe me, people like that always have their 'projects'. But I'm not going to run her down or question her life choices anymore. I don't really know whether Lizzy is in the same mould, but even with my immediate bizarro world response to her – it just could be that she was in the right place, at the right time, and I'm finally just ready to get past it all.

Bing catches up to me and we move to lighter topics, peppered with in-jokes, covering everything from sports, politics, current affairs to arguments over our favourite music, movies and TV shows, travel plans and work. We have a good friendship, it seems light, but Bing was there for me when everything went pear shaped and I discovered who my real friends were. He's rock solid and I would do anything for him. We don't share everything, but he knows me better than anyone who isn't blood, and we don't need to live in each other's pockets to know we have each other's backs. It feels good to have had this time with him, even if it was partly prompted by ulterior motives.

The forest around the track we're following starts thinning to coastal scrub, and I begin to notice the sound of children's voices every now and then carried over the top of the ever-present whir of ocean and wind. It isn't long before we can see the headland and the beautiful curving beach below it. There are a few families who have driven in using the 4WD trails to picnic and swim at the many private bays around the south-west. They've set up for the day with sun shelters, camp chairs and tables situated in the lee of the headland just below us, and the sound of laughing and squealing as the kids run in and out of the water reaches us.

I watch one of the men hold a young boy on a boogie board, pushing him over the small breakers, clearly explaining how he should move with the waves and then turning and pushing him in front of the next wave so he can ride it to shore. A young woman cheers with the boy, as he glides along the wave towards her, whooping as he rolls onto the sand, chubby fist in the air, before he races back out pulling the board behind him.

An older couple notices us and waves the way West Aussies do when they're out bush. Everyone's a mate, out here. Bing waves back and I nod towards him to say it's ok, and we head down to cool off in the water and eat our packed lunches before heading to our next stop on the trail. I keep my distance as I always do, but no one notices thanks to Bing's effortless charm. Another reason I keep him around. It turns out they are four generations of a family enjoying their first camping trip altogether since some of the grandkids got married and started the next generation several years ago. I hadn't noticed the oldest patriarch, sitting in the most comfy camping chair under the gazebo, watery eyes smiling out at his many generations of progeny before him.

My eyes are drawn to one of the younger couples, standing at a distance like I am. She is older than she first appeared, and is staring wistfully at the youngest child, her hands unconsciously smoothing her flat belly again and again. Her partner squeezes her closer to him and they walk away. The older couple share an empathetic glance but continue to keep up a simple conversation until Bing and I draw further away to another part of the beach.

While we swim and eat, I continue to track the family, all drawn together again playing beach cricket near the water's edge. I am both repelled by, and envious of, their easy familiarity and wonder if I will ever experience those things again. The flood of memories the scenes evoke trigger the familiar anxiety I have now learned to control so it stays well below the surface. Lizzy is never far from my thoughts, but Bing and I talk around her whenever we talk about Jane. I want to know what she might think of the scene playing out with this family, I want to know what she might think about what I think about this scene and everything else, but I refuse to admit that it might be hope that is driving my obsession with her.

Narrowly missing a tennis ball to the head draws whoops and hollers from Bing and he joins in the family game, pulling me in from the periphery bit by bit, until even I am disappointed when it is time for us to pack up and continue hiking. The rest of the hike is undisturbed by other holiday makers, but my thoughts return to that golden hour more often than I care to admit.

I dream about her every night, each one more intense than the last.

3 days and 40 kilometres hiked, too many protein bars consumed, innumerable glorious vistas, a few hours in a day spa, the best night's sleep at the resort, plus hours of conversation and Bing is still super excited to see Jane. While I am no closer to figuring out what is going on in my head.