Kate tied a double knot in the laces of her sensible shoes and opened the front door. Steadying herself with a deep breath, she paused for a moment before she stepped out of the cool, dark silence of her cluttered hallway into Sydney’s buzz and hum. Late autumn filled the street; the weak sun slanted across the rooftops but the clouds were heavy with rain. She opened the gate and headed up the hill. Today would have to be better.
She fixed her eyes on the broken paving stones at her feet as she walked quickly towards the bus stop. She knew them well now, each crack and hole in the pavement. The discordant warbling of currawongs in the treetops reminded her that she was far from home.
Last night she had lain awake, crumpled covers twisting around her legs and her radio alarm clock flashing through the seconds. The time had swelled and spread, dragging her heavy, listless body through alternating stages of wakefulness and sluggish sleep. Peter was gone.
It was a month now since his letter had arrived. Her heart had brightened at the Hong Kong postmark, and at first she did not believe what was written in the familiar black ink of his fountain pen. He had met someone else. Her name was Natasha. They were moving back to the UK – together. He had tried to be faithful, he really had, but his relationship with Kate was never going to work across the distance.
He would always remember her with affection.
Kate blotted her eyes with her sleeve and focused on the busy road at the top of the hill. Oxford Street. It was already milling with people: young men in suits, women with freshly shampooed hair and heels they would regret by lunchtime. Some of them were smiling. Kate weaved among them, twenty-eight and all alone, swept along by the crowd in the big, dusty city.
He would have loved it here. In the six months since she had arrived, it was as if each new experience had existed only in order that she could one day relive it with him. Every day had spoken of a shared future. She had assessed her work acquaintances for their potential as his friends.
She would run a silent conversation with him in her head as she sat by the sparkling Harbour or scanned a menu in a new café. Eventually it seemed as if he had been here with her all along in this friendless new city. It was unimaginable that through those months he had been living a different, real life in Hong Kong. And she no longer played a part. Her stomach knotted…
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