Meredith slumped back into a seat with relief. ‘So he’s gone down the road to pick up a pizza for three grown boys who are apparently watching television and having a shower, and that’s enough to reduce you to a blubbering basket case?’
‘I can’t get through.’ Nina threw her mobile phone on the floor. ‘Piece of shit!’ She was immediately down on her knees, scrabbling under the table for the battery that had come loose.
Annie took her by the arm and hauled her to her feet. ‘Look at yourself, Nina! This is . . . what can we say that hasn’t already been said? They—will—be—fine.’
An hour later—after Nina had been more or less tranquillised with a plate of grilled chicken, a rocket-and-parmesan salad and two glasses of red—Meredith tackled her again. ‘This isn’t just about Brad and the boys, Nina. It’s about you. Your constant fussing . . .’
‘I do it all the time. I can hear all the crap coming out of my mouth, and I hate myself. I’m sorry.’ And with that the tears sluiced down the spillway of her pink cheeks again.
Meredith shoved more tissues into Nina’s outstretched hand. ‘Now, don’t carry on like this,’ she said crisply. ‘Being a nag’s hardly the worst crime on earth.’
‘What about being a fat, middle-aged pain-in-the-arse who can barely hold a conversation because she’s been in front of her kitchen sink for fifteen years?’ Nina’s bosom heaved under her faded T-shirt.
Meredith looked at Annie with wide blue eyes. She didn’t have a clue how to handle this abysmal level of self-hatred.
‘Come on now, honey,’ Annie crooned, ‘we’ve come this far together and we’re going all the way. What’s this about? And I’m not just talking about ringing Brad or the kids to say goodnight. What’s it really about?’
Nina kept her head down and honked loudly into her tissue, startling Meredith, who almost fell off her seat. ‘I think Brad wants to leave me . . .’ Nina whispered.
Annie and Meredith put their heads in their hands and groaned. Apparently Nina was worried about—in no particular order—being fat, stupid, old, a bad mother and, now, being dumped by her husband. What else could she possibly add to her list of woes?
‘. . . and I’ll bet he wants to take the dog.’
The moon was high when Annie stepped from the RoadMaster onto wet grass. She still couldn’t bring herself to use the inside toilet. A stiff wind blowing in from the Tasman Sea tore the door from her hands and bashed it on the side of the van. She quickly secured it against marauding midnight pests.
She hesitated for a moment, adjusting her sight to the silvery threads of light woven through the banksia trees, and then saw that what she had thought to be tall clumps of grass were moving. She was standing in the midst of a mob of grazing kangaroos. They stopped for a moment, sensing her presence, and then bent their heads, intent on feeding.
Annie squatted, the blades of grass tickling the inside of her naked thighs. She looked to the heaving black sea. Luminous lashes fringed every wave, winking in the moonlight before crashing onto the shore and exploding with energy. How different it all was to the muddy, blank surface of the dam in the bottom paddock at the farm—that evil, unblinking eye that followed her everywhere. No matter how far she roamed.
Annie stood and pulled up her cotton pyjama pants. Her thoughts turned to Matty and she wondered if by any chance he could be standing on a beach close by, surrounded by kangaroos with fat pouches, looking at this very same moon, at this procession of black and silver waves and thinking of her. She had to find him and ask.
Dawn heralded an autumn day of still perfection. Nina tumbled down the stairs, mobile phone in hand, and saw she still had no reception. Not that it mattered. Who could she call at this hour? She dared not wake the girls after yesterday morning’s effort. There was nothing to do but go for a walk . . . maybe a swim. She exchanged her phone for a towel and headed down the path through the dunes for the beach.
Nina chose a formation of yellow and pink sandstone rocks to aim for and padded across the sand. The sun was over