The Winter Sea

by Morrissey, Di

  ‘I think swimming laps is so monotonous and boring,’ said Michael. ‘Are you going to give the surf a go?’

  ‘I’m out of practice, and I didn’t bring a swimming costume because it’s winter, let alone a wetsuit, and I don’t have a board and the weather and the water are freezing,’ Cassie replied.

  ‘Is that all? Easy to solve. I’ll call a couple of my cousins and I’m sure they can lend you a costume. I can find a wettie that would fit you. I have some stashed away for when friends come down. And I can loan you a board. Or I could double you on my long board.’

  Cassie laughed. ‘I once rode double on a boy’s bike and of course he sped down a hill to show off, and we crashed. I still have the scars on my knees, so I won’t be doubling up, thank you.’

  ‘Right then, no doubling. I’ll bring a board for you and a wetsuit. I’ll get a couple of swimming costumes dropped around to the surgery, which you can pick up and try on. So, no excuses. Meet me down at Littlemans Beach about one tomorrow.’

  ‘Why not? Okay, let’s do it,’ said Cassie.

  *

  The next day, the sight of Michael sitting on the sand beside two boards, hugging his knees and intently studying the waves, made Cassie feel shy. She was nervous, wondering if she could still paddle out, pick the right wave, stroke and stand up on a board, but she guessed that it would be like riding a bike. It would all come back to her once she started.

  ‘At least it’s not a huge swell,’ she said to herself.

  Michael jumped to his feet as she approached. ‘There’s a nice break down to the right. What do you think? You ready?’

  She dropped her towel and sunglasses onto the sand and took the board Michael lifted up for her. He was wearing faded board shorts and, when he stripped off his jumper, his body was lithe and well built. It was the first time Cassie had seen him out of long pants and a shirt and she felt disconcerted at how attractive he looked. They wriggled into their wetsuits.

  ‘No Bill?’ asked Michael.

  ‘No, I didn’t want him to see me make a fool of myself, so I gave him a big bone and a bowl of water and left him back at the cabin to amuse himself. Lead the way. Is Steve out there?’ Cassie said.

  ‘Way out the back. We’ll paddle out to him when you’re ready. Okay?’

  Cassie paddled out strongly even though her arms began to ache. It all started to come back to her: the personal challenge of becoming one with the ocean, the time to sit and drift, how to pick exactly the right wave. While she waited, she stared down into the clear water beneath her. Her thoughts drifted and the distractions of daily life dissipated. She had always liked the simplicity of surfing, the skill it needed and the endless challenges it presented. It didn’t require gadgets, technology, noise, engagement with others, just herself against the surge of the sea.

  After fluffing the first few, Cassie caught a decent wave. She felt a sense of elation, her feet moving on the board as it ripped across the curling wave. She could feel the thrust of power under her and it ignited many sensations. She let out a triumphant yell of joy. When she turned and paddled back out, Michael skimmed past her on a wave and gave her a big thumbs up.

  ‘Fantastic!’ he shouted.

  Out the back Cassie lay on her board to catch her breath.

  Michael paddled over to her. ‘Now you’re back in the saddle, how do you feel?’

  ‘Incredible. I could do this every day!’

  ‘Do you want to try to run down the chef?’

  ‘Okay.’

  It was a long way out to where the larger, less frequent, waves broke. Here, there was time to sit and wait, while watching the horizon for the incoming shadowy lines of the swell that alerted the surfers to an approaching set of waves. Michael paddled slightly ahead of Cassie and approached a stocky man sitting on his surfboard concentrating on the approaching swell.

  ‘Hey, Steve. Catching any?’

  ‘Hiya, Mick. It’s not bad. How’re things?’

  ‘Good. Can’t complain. I’ve brought a friend to meet you. This is Cassie. She’s new to the area.’

  ‘Hi there. Where you from? You made a good move coming here.’

  ‘Hi, Steve. City escapee.’

  ‘On holiday or are you staying?’

  ‘Hopefully staying, but that might depend on you. I asked Michael if he’d arrange this introduction.’

  Steve gave her a puzzled look, then, holding a hand up to shade his eyes, checked the horizon for waves.

  ‘Is that so?’ he said, turning back to look at Cassie.

  ‘Yes. I ate at the Cliff Top a week or so ago. Very impressive, well, the food was.’

  Steve chuckled. ‘Yeah, the place is a bit of a dump. What did you want to talk to me about? You having a party or what?’

  ‘No, it’s not a function. Something else.’

  ‘Don’t say wedding. I don’t touch ’em.’

  ‘No. Actually, I’m thinking of opening a small restaurant at Blue Crane Lake. I’d like you to be the chef. Create the menu, work with me, help style the cuisine. Whatever input you’d like.’

  ‘You don’t say. Hang on. Here we go!’ He crouched and leaned forward and paddled furiously, as did Michael.

  ‘Go for it, Cassie,’ shouted Michael.

  The wave looked as though it was going to be huge as it ballooned behind them. Cassie put her head down and dug her arms deep into the water, trying with all her strength to gather as much speed as she could. Then she felt the lift as it swelled beneath her and, gripping the board with her toes, she sprang to her feet, knees bent, flinging out her arms for balance. She dared not look behind at the wall of water, but concentrated on watching the tip of her board, adjusting her weight to slide across the wave as it rushed forward, avoiding the nose of the board digging into the wave and tumbling her underwater.

  The ride seemed to last forever, she could hear nothing but the rush of the wave and see nothing but the beach skimming towards her. She shot past a paddler and a surfer sitting on his board and suddenly the wave deflated, drowning in upon itself. She rolled off the board, and felt her feet touching the rough sand. Her knees were wobbly as she headed for the beach.

  ‘Wow. What a ride! You had enough? That was some finale,’ said Michael, laughing.

  ‘Hey, Mick, you guys getting out?’ called Steve. Michael nodded and Steve paddled easily to the shallows, stood up and walked to where Cassie was sitting on the sand.

  ‘I’m pooped. It’s been years since I’ve surfed. I haven’t had a ride like that for ages,’ she panted.

  ‘Well, you haven’t forgotten.’ Steve put his board on the sand and then plopped down beside her, flicking his wet hair back from his face.

  ‘Cassie, I reckon you will be down here every day now,’ said Michael.

  ‘In between running a restaurant, eh? Where is it?’ asked Steve.

  ‘The old boatshed, the blue one. It used to be a coffee and hamburger place, I think. It’s small, but I’m after a small but select clientele. Tables on the deck and inside. Concentrate on local produce. Especially seafood . . .’

  ‘You know Frank Aquino?’

  ‘Not yet but I will soon. Are you interested?’

  Steve looked at the ocean for a moment. ‘Could be. I live closer to Whitby Point than the pub, so I’d get more time to surf.’ He thought for a minute more. ‘Can I have a look at your set-up?’

  ‘We’re not actually set up yet. I have to make a few changes first, but I’m interested in any ideas you might have. Name a time when you want to meet there,’ said Cassie.

  ‘What about this arvo?’

  Cassie thought quickly. She could get the keys from the real estate agent. ‘Sure. How about four?’

  ‘Okay. See you there. See ya, Mick. I’m going back in.’

  They watched him head back to the water, his board tucked under his arm like it was part of his body.

  ‘What do you think?’ asked Cassie.

  ‘He’s interested. The next bit will be up to
you and the . . . what are you calling it?’

  ‘The Blue Boatshed.’

  ‘Good call,’ said Michael. ‘And remember, if you need me to help, just shout.’

  ‘Thanks, Michael,’ she said. ‘You’ve already been so helpful. It was great that you could introduce me to Steve. Catch him off guard. A bit unorthodox, but he didn’t say no right off.’

  Later that afternoon Steve, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with a surfing logo on it, walked slowly around the little kitchen and then out onto the deck.

  ‘I remember this place. It was pretty shocking but it’s got a lot of potential.’ He stood on the deck as Bill eyed him curiously. ‘Nice space out here. Great view.’

  ‘I was thinking of a couple of long tables out here and a more elegant set-up inside.’

  ‘You could also put three or four small tables out the front, on that big cement area, and you could use that stand-up bar and counter stools as well. Kitchen needs a bit of an upgrade and they’ll make you put in another toilet, but I reckon the place could be kinda fun, if you hit the right note.’

  ‘I’m over trends and fashions and fickle bars and joints. I want people to come here for the food. Your cooking teamed with the fabulous local produce. The setting is a plus.’

  Steve rubbed his chin. ‘Have you checked out the local providores? Cheesemakers? Vegie mob? You know the high school runs a farm and they sell what they grow to the community? Good stuff, too. Some exotic vegies. Seafood is covered. And the local pork is a winner. I don’t do bread or sweets unless it’s an emergency.’

  ‘I’ve got that covered. I’ve heard there’s an Italian baker a bit further down the coast who’s terrific, but I haven’t tested him yet. And Trixie Spring is my dessert queen.’

  ‘Geoff Spring’s old lady? I heard she was good. Look, I’m interested but we have to talk bucks and frankly I’d like to be flexible. I don’t have cash to invest. At first I thought that you’re probably just a city girl with more money than sense but now I think you might have more sense than money. Am I right?’

  ‘Close. What do you mean by flexible?’

  ‘You mentioned having my own input, having a say in things. I’ve always had a lot of ideas. I’m a good chef, even if I say so myself, but working at the Cliff Top – you can’t imagine – it’s like pulling teeth to get changes on the menu. If a dish is popular, it stays and stays and there’s no room to move away. It kills me having a set menu when suddenly there are pomegranates or something else seasonal, but you can’t use them because they’re not on the menu.’

  Cassie understood his creative frustration. ‘Sounds like the law firm where I used to work. No room to move there either. But, here, collaboration is what I’m after. I love the ambience. I love the food that’s around here. I love how there’s a bit of an Italian backdrop to this area but I don’t want to make this an Italian bistro. The seafood is great, but so is a lot of other food from around here. We can talk to Trixie about matching her desserts with what you want to do.’

  ‘I’m over fusion, but what we could do is showcase the great produce available here on the south coast. The people we want to come here will know what they’re after. They want healthy, homemade, keeping it real, “love with the grub” food, but with style. Know what I mean?’

  ‘I do. Food with heart. Do you have any specialities?’

  ‘Signature dishes? Nope. Don’t want to set myself up and then have to put that special dish on the menu all the time. I like to cook what’s fresh on the day so to speak. If I have a favourite cuisine, I suppose it’s Italian.’

  ‘Steve, your ideas are exciting. Tell me a bit about yourself. I can’t offer you anything to drink, I’m afraid. Place isn’t mine till next week.’

  ‘That’s okay.’ He sat down on the deck and Bill mooched close. Steve held out his hand for inspection and then rubbed Bill’s ears. ‘That’s a nice dog.’

  ‘Yes. Bill found me and that’s how I met Michael.’

  ‘You met his family yet? They’re part of the fabric of this place. You’ll like Frank, he’ll like you. He likes the ladies, does Frank, but he’s all right.’

  ‘I’ve been invited to Michael’s great-uncle Ricardo’s ninetieth birthday. I suppose I’ll meet the family there.’

  ‘For sure,’ said Steve. ‘I was invited too but I’m working. Always working. What sort of hours are you thinking of for this place? You getting some help in the kitchen?’

  ‘Yes. Trixie. She’s great, really efficient, no nonsense. She’ll be good but I need backup. She’ll cook her dishes at home and we can finish them off here. I’m sure we can get a kitchen hand and waiters.’

  ‘Shouldn’t be too much trouble. Lot of women around here looking for part-time work.’

  Cassie liked the way the conversation was going, as if Steve was already part of the team. They began talking food and the hours that the restaurant should open. She told him about her family’s connection to the food industry, and by the time he stood up to leave, she realised he hadn’t told her a thing about himself.

  ‘I’ll let you know next week, if that’s okay. What’s your phone number?’

  ‘We haven’t discussed money.’

  ‘For me it’s about other things. This could suit me better than the Cliff Top. Just got to talk to someone first. I know a guy who could take my place up at the pub so I wouldn’t be leaving them in a hole.’

  ‘I understand. Here’s my mobile number. I’ll be moving in here soon, but mobile reception at Pelican Cove is dodgy, so you might have to leave a message. I’ll call you back.’

  *

  Franco, ‘call me Frank’, lived up to the charm and banter of his phone call. He looked far more Italian than Michael. Indeed, Cassie thought Frank had the heart-throb good looks of an Italian movie star. He was tanned with perfect white teeth and, while not very tall, he showed off his muscled physique in a tight T-shirt only partly hidden by a leather jacket.

  He spoke loudly, calling out greetings to the men in long plastic aprons sorting through the day’s catch at the fish co-op.

  ‘Operation’s not as big as it used to be,’ he told Cassie. ‘Most of those guys are crew, but a couple are boat owners. I’ve got my own business and my own boats, so I don’t do much with the co-op, but I like to look in from time to time to see how things are going.’

  ‘Do you send fish to Sydney?’

  ‘Most of it. Some of the top, top chefs call me when they want something. I send really special stuff to Tetsuya. He’s one classy chef.’

  ‘What’s always around? Snapper? Flathead? Whiting? What’s available fresh? That’s what we’ll put on our menu.’

  ‘Nothing frozen, eh? Are you going to work like the Mediterranean places – cook what’s fresh on the day?’

  ‘That’s the plan,’ said Cassie. ‘I’d like to specialise in as much local produce as possible.’

  ‘You know what you’re doing then.’

  ‘I grew up in a fish restaurant. My mum and dad used to run a big one in Sydney.’

  ‘We have a lot in common then. Our family are all fishermen, since my great-grandfather came out here close to a hundred years ago. Of course Michael let the side down, him being a vet. But what a team you and I are gonna make!’

  Frank became serious as the two of them inspected the seafood packed into plastic tubs on beds of crushed ice. He gently picked up some crabs and showed Cassie. Then he inspected a fish, lifting it tenderly with two hands.

  ‘Beautiful quality. Seafood is different from meat. It’s more delicate and doesn’t have the muscle meat has because of its environment so it needs to be kept at the proper holding temperature in storage. The best chef can’t fix the quality of seafood if it’s been roughly handled before it gets to him.’

  ‘I’m impressed. I think my father would have agreed with you there. He always said that fish had to be respected. Is the catch handled as delicately on the boats?’ asked Cassie.

  ‘As best we can. Fishing is a rou
gh business. We still do it the old way with nets and poles. No big mechanised systems like those damn super trawlers. We’re small, slick and sustainable. My father used to say his grandfather could talk to the fish, he could think like fish and he just had an instinct for finding them and catching them without any of today’s technology.’

  ‘Really? That’s amazing,’ said Cassie. ‘By the way, Michael’s asked me to great-uncle Ricardo’s ninetieth birthday. I’m looking forward to it.’

  ‘Well, Michael beat me there, I was going to ask you. Yes, my grandfather’s big party. He’s the family patriarch, so you’ll meet all the family! Cast of thousands. Save a dance for me, okay?’

  ‘Dancing! Will you have a band?’

  ‘Of course. It’s an Italian family gathering, so there’ll be eating, drinking, singing, telling stories, kissing kids and more eating.’

  ‘Wow. I come from a very small family, I’m an only child, so I like the sound of your big party.’

  ‘That’s too bad. Who did you play with or fight with when you were growing up?’ asked Frank. ‘Are you going to have a lot of kids?’ He leaned towards her with a big smile.

  Cassie changed the subject. ‘I still have to get the restaurant set up. I think I have a chef coming on board, but also I need a regular supply of good seafood.’

  ‘Of course you do. I’ll look after you. We need a really good eatery around here. Are you going to do Italian?’

  ‘No. We’re not going the full Italian route, more local country. But as the chef has a bit of a passion for Italian food, we’ll probably include a pasta dish or two.’

  ‘Sounds good. Listen, let’s go to the wharf. I’ve had a lunch prepared for us, one of the old family favourites so you can try out my seafood in situ as it were.’

  ‘You didn’t have to do that, but thank you.’ Cassie was hungry and flirtatious Frank was good company.

  Life was definitely looking up.

  There was suddenly a lot to do. Cassie felt at times as though she was surfing. She was on a wave and it was rushing forward and she wasn’t sure whether she’d be wiped out or whether she’d ride it into the shallows and land on the beach. She felt exhilarated by the adventure of setting up her restaurant in spite of the risks she was taking. Each morning as soon as she opened her eyes she leapt happily from bed and began planning the day. It was so different from the times she’d had to drag herself, feeling weary and dejected, to face another day at the law firm.