About a month after Mikhail moved in, she met Andrew for coffee. She had put him off several times, but could do so no longer. She had no idea how she would manage to be her usual self, but when she saw him, already seated at a table, a smile entering his face at the sight of her, she was rushed with a sense of familiarity, of blessed normality. Immediately they fell into their usual chatter. It was such a relief being with him, and she wondered if, with his help, she might manage Mikhail and reclaim some of her old life. It was a brief moment of optimism. Andrew was attempting to make future engagements with her: a movie, a drive to an old homestead recently opened to the public, even the High Country holiday, and suddenly she felt caught. She declined all his suggestions. Not now, not now, she said, wrenching the conversation back to his project for Parks and Gardens, his parents, his dog, his days.

These difficulties notwithstanding, the hour spent with Andrew restored a little of her lost self. She’d had a life, and it was gone. She’d had a future, and it was stalled. Mikhail could live for another twenty years; unless she acted to change the current situation, she’d be resuming life as a fifty-year-old. She needed to give Mikhail a life, so she could reclaim hers. As a starting point, she needed to get him out of the house, and then she might be able to send him on sightseeing daytrips, introduce him to some of the community groups for seniors, find him some friends, shift him.

So she planned an excursion. With so much resting on this outing, the destination was all-important. She considered and dismissed several options. Then it came to her: the food hall at the Myer Emporium. Together with the TV and smoking, eating was Mikhail’s favourite activity; he would enjoy the beautiful displays and the huge variety of foods. They would take the tram, they would stroll through the food hall, and they would buy their dinner there. It was perfect.

He resisted, as she knew he would, but she insisted, for the first time revealing her stubborn side. Still he continued to resist, demanding she show some respect. In the end she bribed him: there would be no meal that night unless he joined her on the Myer expedition. Mikhail understood bribes.

It was just before eleven when they entered the food hall. The delicious smells hit her immediately. She loved this place, and the life in her quickened. She pointed out the confectionary, the cakes, the salads, the cheeses; as her voice grew more and more animated, he became less and less interested.

‘At home,’ he said at last, ‘I shopped at the special shops.’ He cast a withering glance at her. ‘I am not impressed with these foods.’