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doll, Blake. If you really wanted to help you’d just leave me in peace!” She saw the hard anger in his eyes and stopped, appalled at her own words, looked away.  
    “Don’t sulk, Christie,” Blake shot back, his voice dangerous. “If you don’t know what you want, don’t blame me.” Her face burned with hurt as she realised he was referring to his words the other night. He saw the agony in her eyes, controlled himself with difficulty, furious at her words and her stubbornness.
    Christie realised that the vibration and sound of the boat’s motor had camouflaged most of their conversation from those around them; was conscious of Blake walking away from her to the front of the boat. She remained perfectly still, bitterly regretting her outburst and hurt by Blake’s response, more so by its accuracy as she acknowledged her own childish behaviour. She exhaled slowly, looked over to where Blake stood, talking to Ian. Further up the estuary she could see a small jetty and a bridge; she realised they were approaching Freshwater Landing.
    Christie stood up, filled with sudden resolve. Blake turned around just as she reached him, looking down at her impassively. “Everything they say in the pub about Aucklanders is true,” Christie said tentatively.  
    “Seems to be,” Blake said implacably, turning back to talk to Ian.  
    Embarrassed, Christie looked around as the boat bumped into the jetty, picking out the track leading away from the clearing, looking at her watch. Blake continued talking to Ian, both of them involved in manoeuvring the boat to berth it so the passengers could disembark. She walked back to her pack, knowing Blake would not help with it now, hoping he would, despite everything. Her hand closed over the padded strap as she tugged the pack upright, preparing to lift it up onto the jetty and then put it on her back.
    “Just wait on the jetty, Christie, I’ll pass the pack up to you.” Ian’s gruff voice cut through Christie’s thoughts. She felt rather than saw Blake’s gaze on her as she let go of the pack, stepped up onto the jetty, relief and disappointment flowing through her in equal measure. Surprising her, Ian stepped up onto the jetty as well, holding the pack level so she could put it on. She thanked him, confirming the time of her return trip, before he moved off to help another passenger. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Blake still in the boat, obviously in no hurry to leave. Christie turned and fled towards the start of the track.

    — # —

    After a time she slowed down, enjoying the feeling of being out tramping again after so many years. The sky was cloudless but the air was slightly cool, despite it being almost the start of summer. I’ve been on the island four weeks , Christie thought to herself, her spirits buoyed as she thought back over her time on the island so far, the friends she had made, the people she had met. Her work, which was a complete change from her career and yet was so satisfying. She realised leaving Auckland, removing herself from everything that was familiar had been exactly what she needed.
    The nightmares were fading and she was gradually catching up on sleep; she hoped the hut at Mason Bay would not be too busy and she could find an annex that would mean she could sleep without being disturbed. Christie continued thinking about Mason Bay, trying not to think of Blake, of the angry exchange on the water taxi, of Blake’s response to her approach as the boat reached the jetty.
    Eventually, Christie reached a vast plain, catching her breath at the landscape, the tussock, the scale of the terrain. The heartbreak of Paul and Amanda’s betrayal seemed distant to Christie, unimportant in the face of such a raw, remote landscape. A boardwalk started to replace the track and Christie could see a huge sandhill across the swamp. In the distance the sky was turning grey. Her boots and trousers were already spattered with mud and she wondered if it