©Just Delectable©
Fiona Lowe c 2007
Children's sticky finger marks blurred the view through the large plate glass window, but even blurred it was completely spectacular. The water in the curved bay rippled calmly, lapping against the imposing red bluff that defined the bay. Endless, blue ocean lay on the other side.
Red, green and yellow fishing boats bobbed on their moorings close to the white, wooden pier that carved majestically through the water, staking a claim that dated back a hundred years. Today the sea danced with shimmering phosphorescence as the rays from the white-hot sun sparkled against it. Broad brimmed hats covered the heads of those brave or silly enough to be out in the scorching sun.
Summer in Queensland.
Annie shivered and plunged her hands into her blue utility coat trying to warm up her fingers. Summer in Queensland and she was freezing in the Port Frazer Fish Co-op. For five summers she'd come home and worked in the icy depths of the co-op, saving money to get her through the lean times of the university academic year.
Usually she loved being back in her hometown. Her mum and dad welcomed her with open arms, fed her with mouth-watering meals and generally spoiled her. As well as working she enjoyed the annual 'catch-up' up with her high-school friends, the after work social life making up for the non-stimulating job.
But this year was different. Her parents were off exploring the culinary delights of Asia and researching for their next cookbook, so she was feeding herself. Badly. She hadn't inherited the cooking gene like the rest of the family.
All her friends had taken shorter uni courses so this year they were scattered across the country tackling new jobs, and settling into "grown up" lives. Her best friend, Jen had a gorgeous new baby, and was rightfully distracted and exhausted in equal measure caring for tiny Ruby.
All of these changes left Annie feeling unsettled and lonely. And conspicuously alone. An image of vivid blue eyes floated across her mind.
'More blue swimmer crabs for you to ice, Annie.'
'Thanks, Harry.'
Harry, who'd been an 'old hand' thirty years ago when her parents had worked at the co-op, gave her a toothless grin and dumped another tub of freshly cooked crustaceans next to her.
She sighed. She was so sick of seafood. She loathed lobsters, crabs gave her the creeps, prawns peeved her and she hated hake.
She'd had enough.