By a Stormy Sea

By Jane van Zyl

Struggling to meet writing deadlines in her self-imposed exile, Amelia goes to stay in her best friend's house by the sea. Returning to civilisation is great, but she she still has some hang-ups, especially those that caused her to move to the desert in the first place. Perhaps her cute neighbour, Matt, could help with that, and help her find inspiration for her book as well.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jane van Zyl
• Release date: Sep 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201677732

Jane van Zyl

Jane van Zyl is an avid reader, and has made up stories for as long as she can remember. In addition to books, she loves tea, the ocean and travelling (in that order). She currently lives in Cape Town, where most of her stories are set. 

Book preview

Chapter 1

Amelia threw her bag down on the denim couch. Beatrix would not mind. She had, after all, done worse to it. She crossed the room to the glass doors and swung open the curtains. Hungrily, her eyes drank in the ocean - steel grey swells rolling and dipping, like a restless creature unable to settle down. One swell hit ‘n boulder sticking out and sprayed foam several stories high.

She had to smell it, breathe it in. Amelia swung the doors open and stepped onto the balcony, into the ocean air. The cold of the cast iron numbed her hands when she gripped the railing, but she didn’t let go. She could taste the salt, the damp on her tongue. It felt like she was breathing again, after years. Well, a year. A long, dry year.

A wave hit the boulders under her, and cool droplets misted onto her face. Oh, yes. Here she could live again. She lifted her hands from the railing and buried them in her coat pockets. The wind whipped her hair into her face as she turned to inspect her surroundings. Walls separated Beatrix' balcony from the neighbours’. It sloped down towards the edge, and she glimpsed a bunch of potted succulents to the right. To the left, Matt had comfortable looking wicker chairs.

Matt. She frowned as she recalled the meeting.

My neighbour has a copy of our keys, Beatrix had said when she offered her flat for Amelia’s use. She was not someone who accepted favours graciously, but this was Beatrix. Who was gallivanting in Greece with her hot husband like she didn’t have a care in the world. And after that last letter from her agent... Amelia shuddered. She still held firm that there was no such thing as writer's block, but had conceded to give Elayne’s advice a fair try. A change of scenery indeed. This was as big a change from the endless, dry flats of the Karoo as she could imagine. Well, perhaps a snowy mountain would be a truer opposite, but she did not have a best friend that owned a flat in the Drakensberg.

She had Beatrix. And so, after packing her life into her car and driving for a day, she had arrived. Parking was a struggle. She had gotten used to large, empty areas. She had driven backwards and forward about seven times before fitting into Beatrix' tiny, impossibly angled space.

After hauling her bags down the hallway from the lifts she had found herself in front of a white door. And stood there. She had been shy before. Many writers were. They watched people, wondered about them, made up stories about their lives. Sure, she had enjoyed going out with her people. Mostly Beatrix. But she saw people. And then... well. Then that happened, and she went to the Karoo to finish her book without distractions and - she hadn’t spoken to a stranger in a really long time.

Amelia huffed. She was being ridiculous. She reached out and knocked firmly. A scuffle sounded inside, and after a few moments, the door opened.

He was all smiles and dimples, rumpled clothes, and warm eyes. Hey.

Amelia cleared her throat. Hi. Yes. I’m here for Beatrix. Her flat. The keys? She was a disaster. She had obviously forgotten how to speak. She should just go back to Kliprivier and never speak to anyone again, except for Oom Louis, who ran the general store. Why hadn’t she practised what to say beforehand? She could clearly remember doing that before. Why hadn’t she similarly prepared for this?

Matt didn’t seem to pick up on her inner panic and seemed to think nothing of her abysmal conversational skills. His smile never faltered.

Oh! Amelia, right? Beatrix said you’d be by. I’ve got the keys here somewhere. Would you like to come in? he called over his shoulder, walking inside. Amelia’s feet were planted like trees, she couldn’t move if she wanted to. This was going better than expected but going inside a stranger’s house was too much. Uhm, she started.

Oh, here they are, got them! he reappeared, smiling, holding the keys triumphantly. Here you go.

Amelia managed a small smile as she took them. Thanks.

No problem. He leaned against the doorjamb. Shout if you need anything, yeah?

That’s very kind of you, but I’m sure...

He waved a hand lazily. It’s no problem. Honestly, it’s quiet without Bea and Phil running around. The corners of his mouth jumped. Anyways, I’m here if you need anything. But don’t let me keep you, you must be tired. Are you good for dinner? I’m making spaghetti, there’s sure to be extra.

Amelia did not take a step back at the neighbourliness, but it was close. I have some leftovers from lunch. But thanks for the offer.

No worries. I’ll let you unpack in peace.

He had smiled at her, she had murmured something unintelligible, and he had shut his door.

And that was that. Sure, he talked a lot and was almost too friendly, but overall, she could not have asked for a better reintroduction to society. The only reason she was obsessing over the interaction was that he was the first person she had had a conversation with in forever. Yes, that was it. There was nothing deeper, so no use fixating. She had things to do. With one last longing look at the ocean, she trudged inside to start unpacking.

* * *

I’m going to hang up now, Amelia threatened, shifting her phone so she could better see Beatrix on the screen. It’s super windy, and you’re using all my data. I’ll call you when I get back to your Wi-Fi. She leaned back on the bench. The waves crashing against the walkway of the promenade made it