Page 76 - The Midnight Library

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this. is place, wherever it was, seemed a little more built-up. Still surferish,

but also urban.
Turning her attention back to the pool, she noticed a man smile at her as
he adjusted his goggles. Did she know this man? Would she welcome this
smile in this life? Having no idea, she offered the smallest of polite smiles in

return. She felt like a tourist with an unfamiliar currency, not knowing how
much to tip.
en an elderly woman in a swimming cap smiled at her as she glided
through the water towards her.

‘Morning, Nora,’ she said, not breaking her stroke.
It was a greeting that suggested Nora was a regular here.
‘Morning,’ Nora said.
She stared out at the ocean, to avoid any awkward chatting. A flock of

morning surfers, speck-sized, swam on their boards to greet large sapphire-
blue waves.
is was a promising start to her Australian life. She stared at her watch. It
was a bright orange, cheap-looking Casio. A happy-looking watch

suggestive, she hoped, of a happy-feeling life. It was just aer nine a.m. here.
Next to her watch was a plastic wristband with a key on it.
So, this was her morning ritual here. In an outdoor swimming pool beside
a beach. She wondered if she was here alone. She scanned the pool hopefully

for any sign of Izzy, but none was there.
She swam some more.
e thing she had once loved about swimming was the disappearing. In
the water, her focus had been so pure that she thought of nothing else. Any

school or home worries vanished. e art of swimming – she supposed like
any art – was about purity. e more focused you were on the activity, the
less focused you were on ever ything else. You kind of stopped being you and
became the thing you were doing.

But it was hard to stay focused when Nora noticed her arms and chest
ached. She sensed it had been a long swim and was probably time to get out
of the pool. She saw a sign. Bronte Beach Swimming Pool. She vaguely
remembered Dan, who had been to Australia in his gap year, talking about

this place and the name had stuck – Bronte Beach – because it was easy to
remember. Jane Eyre on a suroard.
But here was confirmation of her doubt.