Her bag was packed but still she resisted leaving. She glanced around the kitchen for anything left undone. No dishes in the sink. Benches wiped clean. Plants watered. Not a single item out of place. It calmed her to see everything in order.

She dreaded this journey, knowing that, when she arrived in Nullaburra, there would be no Ginny coming out onto the verandah, her arms wide for a welcoming hug. No sitting together in the sunroom, talking and laughing over a bottle of shiraz as the sun dipped behind the hills and the shadows crept across the vineyard. No Ginny at all. Elizabeth pulled herself back to the task of departure. ‘I’m on top of this now,’ she informed Eric. ‘Nearly ready to go.’

Eric made no comment. He’d been subdued for the last couple of days, which was most unlike his usual chatty self. He’d been the only witness to Elizabeth’s gusts of furious tears as she railed against the world and all the dreadful people who survived while beautiful souls like Ginny were taken early. But in his silence, Elizabeth sensed a quiet empathy. He was giving her space to grieve…

Continue reading the extract here…