The story is set in what could be any beachside town in Victoria, and the coastline is beautifully evoked throughout. The surging ocean – almost a character in itself – is skilfully manipulated by Au, who uses it as a receptacle for her characters’ hopes and desires. One moment the ocean cradles, the next it surges un-expectedly over the sand.

Frankie, a rich girl, is in love with an older man and has friends who are mean as only girls can be. Gillian is crippled by a boating accident, yet spends most of the book salty and wet from the ocean that she swims in, despite her scars. Jacob, the boy, longs to be his older brother; yearns for Gillian and for things he doesn’t yet know how to name.

The teenage girls are well realised. Jacob’s character is less engaging; he seems too passive, but perhaps only in comparison to Frankie and Gillian, who rage and question, and whose relationships are as complex and unknowable as the ocean that is their backdrop. The point of view changes from chapter to chapter, and their lives intersect in the way small towns do.

Cargo forced to the surface the memory of my own awkward teenage self. The novel, and the memory, left me with what can only be described as an uneasiness at the pit of my stomach.

Jessica Au is a new talent to be watched.