Dana sank into the leather Chesterfield that had become like a well-worn pair of shoes and nibbled on leftover Christmas cake.
She stared at the empty grate of the fireplace. The house was silent in the early January afternoon, save for the low rumble of a plane overhead, and she began to wonder when Angus would drop by. For the first few weeks of the school holidays she’d been taking him to the library and they’d been having lunch together.
Now that she was back from Sydney and her bags had been put away, the house felt empty without him.
She was about to put a CD on when the doorbell rang. Her neighbour, Susan, stood before her, fiddling with the ceramic stone of her necklace. She was trialling a new hair style and wisps of hair had escaped from the combs pinned to the side of her head.
‘Hi,’ said Dana with a rush of goodwill. ‘Where’s Angus? I thought he’d have stuck his head in by now.’
A flicker of pain darted across Susan’s eyes. She stood awkwardly on the front step, her collarbones sharp in the vee of her blouse. ‘That’s what I’ve come to talk to you about – he’s still with Tina.’
‘Why don’t you come in?’ suggested Dana, ushering Susan down the hallway to the kitchen. ‘I’ll make us some tea.’
Dana switched on the kettle and retrieved the good set of china from the lounge room cabinet. She set two cups with painted butterflies on matching saucers, the aroma of spice filling the air as she steeped the tea in boiling water.
‘Let’s take these out to the verandah,’ she said, handing a cup to Susan, sensing that whatever she’d come to say would be easier sitting side by side looking out over the garden and the park across the road. The cane chair creaked as she eased into it. She blew on her tea as she waited for Susan to speak…
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