Tides of Change: Charley Deacon, #2

Tides of Change

Andi R. Christopher

Sleepy Squid Press

Copyright © 2023 Andi R. Christopher

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by law.

Cover design by Jacqueline Sweet.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the National Library of New Zealand.

ISBNs:

Paperback: 978-0-473-68942-1

Epub: 978-0-473-68943-8

Mobi: 978-0-473-68944-5

Contents

1.Chapter One

2.Chapter Two

3.Chapter Three

4.Chapter Four

5.Chapter Five

6.Chapter Six

7.Chapter Seven

8.Chapter Eight

9.Chapter Nine

10.Chapter Ten

11.Chapter Eleven

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Chapter one

Charley Deacon sat on the bed of her cliff-top studio and glared at the floor. At least a week’s clothing was strewn across it, buried amongst it library books, a clarinet case, possibly some kitchen utensils, and who knew what else.

If she didn’t do laundry now she might never manage it. Telling herself that she was strong and capable, and her morning meds should be kicking in, she got to work. She should have remembered to buy a proper washing basket while she was in Balclutha, but for at least the third time it had slipped her mind. Instead, she found a couple of reusable supermarket bags and bunged in what she could from the floor, assuming it was dirty because, really, the wash loads were cheap, what was the harm in putting a pair of socks through an extra time? Chaotic as things looked, she noticed she was making progress. The old her would have stared at the floor, uncertain where to begin, and then got distracted doing something else. She checked she had coins for the machines – Gordon or Therese, who ran the holiday park, would have given her cash out, but she tried not to ask too often – and slipped her books into her bag before heading down the hill.

The settlement of Inver Aora clustered around the mouth of a river, with homes built on either bank and up onto the hills. There was a late summer haze in the air, cool but pleasant. A couple of cars passed her as she walked up the road, hooted or waved, and she acknowledged them in return. She couldn’t quite name everyone who lived in Inver Aora but it was close, and she the new person – and apprenticed to Thalassa, no less – had obviously made an impression: they all recognised her, even in tourist season, when there were a lot of new faces in town.

The holiday park was on the same side of the river, a little further up where the land opened out between the hills. Many of the motorhomes had left this late in the season, and only a few tents lingered in the camping section, but there was still a cluster of people who lived in the holiday park full-time.

Charley slid the bolt on the door and chucked her clothes into a washing machine. No need for sorting them; she wore simple clothes these days, mostly just jeans and T-shirt – not like there was much to dress up for, but not having to wear a uniform was nice – and sat down on the bench to read.

Charley’s apprenticeship had come with more book learning than she’d hoped, though she at least got some choice in which topics to pursue. Right now, it was ocean life reproduction. She was up to the chapter on scallop mating, which mostly made her feel glad she hadn’t been born a scallop.

Thalassa had described magic as making connections in a full mind, rather than making things manifest in an empty one. In other words, part of Charley’s training was to learn as much about this coastline and the ocean it bordered as possible. Tides, currents, weather, marine life, history: everything was included. There wasn’t a formal programme – Charley had a membership to the nearest library, the tiny library in Milton, which also got her access to the slightly larger one at Balclutha, and was reading whatever books came up, as well as downloading nature programmes when she was near a faster internet connection. Every time Thalassa said she should read up on a particular topic, she added it to the list.

She had just finished reading about the spatfall when a young man, about her age, walked in. He had neatly cut dark hair and was wearing shorts and a checked shirt – almost a uniform for holiday makers. She hadn’t seen him before, but though that was unusual in this settlement at this point, it could hardly be considered remarkable in a holiday park.

He gave her a friendly nod and smile as he transferred clothes from one of the washers to a dryer, then headed back out. Charley nodded after him. He looked okay. Better than okay. And Inver Aora was usually starved of people her age.

Charley had switched to the other book, reading about the first voyages to what was now New Zealand, when he returned. He balanced his lidded coffee cup on the adjoining bench while folding his clothes.

Good morning, he said. Having a good holiday?

Oh, I actually live here. I just don’t have a washing machine at the moment. It surprised her how easy it was to say that she lived here, something that would have seemed impossible just months ago.

You are very lucky, he said. To live here, not to be without a washing machine. That is unfortunate. My name is Lars. He turned and held out his hand and Charley took it.

Charley.

Good to meet you, Charley.

Charley supposed making conversation with people about the place also counted as study, so she put her bookmark in and closed her book. She would only place herself as just slightly on the extrovert side of the spectrum, but living here it was very easy to get lonely or feel like you were imposing, especially as everyone had their own lives and families and communities, formed long before Charley had shown up.

Just arrived? she asked, pushing the conversation on. He looked at her again, clearly attentive. He was cute.

Yes. The day before yesterday. I’ve been picking cherries for two months with some friends, hard work, now I’m having some time off here. Very beautiful place to relax.

It’s lovely, isn’t it. Weather can be a bit erratic but you get used to it.

Lars shrugged. Wet day, I just watch TV. I was lucky to find the place. It’s like there’s a Facebook page for the campground and nothing else. Why would you keep it a secret?

Charley shrugged. I guess there’s nothing else to advertise. No bars or anything. And the people who come for the summer – you’ve just missed the season – a lot of them tend to come back every year. No offence, but there’s no reason to promote it to anyone else.

That’s fair, Lars said. Well, I’m glad I found it. Sometimes you want to be out of the way. I’m going to get some beautiful photos, I can tell.

You’re a photographer?

Amateur, but I’ve got good equipment and I like to think I’m getting better with practice. So I should go and put these away, I think, but it was good to meet you, Charley. I’m sure I’ll see you around.

You will, replied Charley, who was very much getting used to how the settlement operated, how you couldn’t go a day without seeing multiple people you knew. For now, though, she got back to her books. Her routine of apprenticeship was intense but comforting, and she was feeling more organised than she ever had before. She was trying not to think about how different things would have been for her if someone had noticed what had been going on earlier, let alone if she’d had access to her meds. That was the past, and she was focused on the future now. She’d effectively cut off contact with her parents, she was close to her sister, and she was building new relationships. She wasn’t going to achieve success in traditional ways, but she had something to work towards, something that wasn’t just trying to keep her head above water. For the first time in her life, it was like she had actual talents to work on developing.

Her dryer load finished, Charley packed her bags, spinning the dryers round to look for errant socks. She left with bags of laundry in her hands and a couple of tops draped over one arm. She walked across the path through the holiday park, saying hello to a couple of the retired long-stayers who were sitting smoking and drinking coffee at a little folded table by their campervan, and out to what passed for the main road.

She heard light footsteps behind her, running, and stood to one side to see a child go dashing past her. Following close behind was True, dressed in a pale-blue floral-pattern sundress with smocking in the upper part, under a white cardigan. Charley felt her heart thump slightly out of rhythm as she saw her, unable to stop herself from smiling. Somehow True always seemed to look well dressed in an old-fashioned kind of way, putting Charley’s scruffiness to shame – and Charley didn’t even have the excuse of children.

Sorry… can’t stop... children on the loose... she yelled as she strode quickly past. Come for coffee soon, though!

Will do, Charley called after her, but it seemed like her words fell flat in the wind. It was good to have a friend here, and True had been genuinely kind. But True… True was distracted. True had children and responsibilities, she was a solid part of this community, she fit effortlessly into places Charley never could. Even if she was somehow interested in Charley – which seemed unlikely, she was probably straight to start with – Charley could never measure up, things would always be uneven.

Charley clenched her fists and gave herself a talking-to. Be grateful you have someone kind to you in this weird place. Don’t focus on what you can’t have.

Charley swam later in the