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would rain.
    By the time she reached the hut, Christie was looking forward to a leisurely late lunch. She knew the bay itself was not far from the hut and as she ate lunch she studied her map, tracing the path she had taken, planning the next day. The silence was absolute as she sat in the cool sunshine, her mind drifting. On to Blake. She regretted her outburst that morning, realising with hindsight she had overreacted but still smarting at his response. Of course I know what I want, she thought. Time to myself.
    Christie walked inside to her pack, picked up her red jacket and an extra wool top, deciding to walk to the sand dunes, explore the bay. She set off, refusing to acknowledge she was starting to wonder where Blake was, when he would arrive. She started up the sandy incline leading between the dunes, looking forward to seeing Mason Bay. She caught her breath as she caught a glimpse of the ocean and the vast crescent of sand stretching into the distance. Christie stopped abruptly, watching the breeze whipping the waves, noticing the windswept pattern of the sand, the driftwood around the tideline. She could see no one else on the beach although she knew some of the tourists had walked on from the hut earlier.  
    Christie realised someone was walking up the incline behind her, turned around, her eyes sparkling. “Isn’t it—” She broke off in confusion as she realised Blake was standing there, watching her, his expression sardonic, daring her to finish her sentence. Christie swallowed as she watched him, finally found her voice. “It’s amazing. Like you said.” She saw a flicker of emotion in his eyes as he gave her a slight nod. Blake took a step forward, moving to walk down the incline towards the beach itself.
    “Blake.”  
    He stopped, looked back at her. Christie’s breath caught in her throat as she looked at him, standing against a panorama of the sea and the sand. “I’ve still got a way to go to the hunters’ hut, Christie. What is it?”  
    Confusion swamped her. “The hunters’ hut? Why do hunters have a different hut?” she said before she could think through what she was saying.  
    “To keep themselves safe from girls from Auckland,” Blake said, watching Christie intently, a hint of sudden amusement in his eyes.
    Despite her uncertainty, Christie smiled, unable to match his quick wit, not knowing what to say. She thought back over the day, her realisation about Paul, her joy at being out tramping again. Blake spoke before she could, his voice careful. “My friends fly in tomorrow morning and the booking doesn’t start ’til then. I’m just heading down to the hunters’ hut to see who’s around.” He shrugged. “It could be crowded if the previous guys are still there.” Christie studied the sand. “So I’ll probably be back at the main hut later. There’ll be dinner and kiwi watching on offer.” His voice became rough. “Up to you.”  
    Christie took a deep breath, holding on to her resolve like she was drowning. She would talk to Blake. She had to talk to Blake. Otherwise she would sit alone in the hut because of pride. Blake smiled at her. “Or you can talk to Mr Statistics from the taxi about a four hour tramp to a 22 bed hut next to a beach that’s 19 kilometres long.” Christie smiled back at him as she realised Blake was mimicking the tourist she had talked to that morning on the taxi.  
    “Life is full of difficult decisions,” Christie said recklessly, her voice deadpan but her eyes sparkling. She flushed slightly, keeping her eyes on Blake.  
    He shook his head slightly, grinning at her. “Out here, even the difficult decisions are easy,” he said matter-of-factly.  
    How does he do that? Christie wondered. Be so sure of himself but still pick up on my thoughts, echo whatever I’m thinking? “I’ll take your word for it,” she replied, striving for a normal tone, feeling slightly sick as she thought back to her reckless remark.  
    Blake looked