Hot Island Nights. Sarah Mayberry

a damned interfering nag, you know that?” she told her empty room.

      But she knew the voice was right. She’d run away from her old life because she was afraid of the person she’d nearly become. If she was going to find herself, she needed to go looking. She needed to push against her old notions of who she was.

      She grabbed her purse and her room key and made herself walk out the door before she could think herself out of it. Nerves fluttered in her belly as she descended the stairs and walked into the din of the crowded main bar. She paused for a moment to get her bearings, a little overwhelmed by the noise and the press of people and all the bare flesh on display. The smell of beer and fried food and suntan lotion hung heavily in the air, and the carpet underfoot was both sticky from years’ worth of spilled drinks and gritty with sand that had been tracked in from the beach.

       It’s just a pub, Elizabeth, she told herself, and they’re just people. Nothing to be afraid of.

      She took a deep breath and threw herself into the melee, slowly weaving her way toward the bar.

      “What can I get you, love?” the barmaid asked.

      “I’ll have a Pimm’s and lemonade, thank you.”

      The barmaid frowned. “Pimm’s. God, I haven’t served that for years.” She turned toward the man working the other end of the scarred wooden bar. “Trev, we got any Pimm’s, do you reckon?”

      “Pimm’s? I don’t know. Let me check out the back.” The barman glanced at Elizabeth curiously.

      “It’s okay, don’t bother,” Elizabeth said, feeling foolish. Of course they didn’t have Pimm’s. She was a long way from home, after all. About as far away as she could get.

      She gestured toward the frosted glass the barmaid had just handed over to the previous customer. “I’ll just have one of those.”

      “A VB? Not a problem,” the barmaid said.

      A minute later, Elizabeth was handed a tall, frosted glass full of beer. She took her first sip and gasped, surprised by how icy cold it was. After the heat of the day, however, it was hugely welcome and she took another big gulp as she spotted an empty table in the corner. Good. A table would give her a refuge to hide behind and make her feel less conspicuously alone.

      She dodged a couple of well-muscled backs as she made her way across the bar. She was just about to put her drink down when a dark-haired woman slid her glass onto the table at the same time. They stared at each other, startled, then the other woman laughed.

      “I’d call that a draw, what do you think? Should we toss for it?” the other woman said good-naturedly and Elizabeth recognized the familiar vowels of an East London accent.

      “It’s fine. You got here first,” Elizabeth said politely.

      It had been a mistake coming downstairs on her own, she could see that now. It was too loud, too hectic and she was jet-lagged and very uncertain about what move to make next. The sooner she drank her beer and returned to her room, the better.

      “Hey! English! Cheers!” the other woman said, her face splitting into a welcoming smile. She lifted her glass to clink it against Elizabeth’s. “How long have you been in Oz for, then? Me and my bloke have been here nearly six months, in case you couldn’t tell by the tan.” The other woman proudly showed off her nut-brown arms. “Bugger skin cancer, I say.” She gave another laugh.

      Her name, Elizabeth soon learned, was Lexie and she insisted that she and Elizabeth share the table since Lexie was waiting for her boyfriend to join her and had no idea when he was going to show up.

      “You can help me fight off these randy Aussie blokes until he gets here,” she said with another of her loud, unselfconscious laughs. “Horny bastards, and they don’t mind having a go, let me tell you, even when you let them know you’re taken.”

      Somehow Elizabeth’s one beer turned into two when Lexie insisted on treating her, then three because Elizabeth had to return the favor. By the time it was full dark outside she was feeling more than a little squiffy. By that time Lexie’s boyfriend, Ross, had arrived with the rest of their friends and Elizabeth was drawn into their circle. When music started up out in the beer garden she went along quite happily as the rest of them swept outside.

      Hips swinging in time to the music, cold beer in hand, she glanced around the bar, a dreamy, happy smile on her face. Despite her initial nervousness, she’d held her own with Lexie and Ross’s loud, friendly group. No, more than held her own—she was having a good time. A great time. For the first time in her life there wasn’t someone watching, waiting to remind her of what she should say or do or how her actions might be perceived. She wasn’t worried about what Martin might think or living up to her grandparents’ expectations.

      She was on her own. Free. For the moment, anyway.

      Which was when she glanced across the garden and locked eyes with Nathan Jones, leaning against the far wall with a beer in his hand as he watched her with a small, speculative smile.