She is leaving. Lucy and Fabricio are moving to Italy. To be near his family. She is leaving. They have only another two weeks before they fly. I did not think she would really do it, really go.

She is leaving me.

Now I have truly lost everything dear to me. What is there left? What have I now?

Nothing.

Ivy

Twenty-seven

Nicole stared out her bedroom window, willing the sun to rise. She’d given up on sleep hours ago and now she waited for dawn to release her from the torture that had gripped her all night. She usually looked forward to Sunday mornings – no renovation tasks scheduled, her weekly game of Scrabble with Charlie mid-morning. But this morning was tainted with images she conjured every time she closed her eyes.

She couldn’t leave Ivy there like that last night, so sad, so wretched after news of Lucy’s leaving. She had to read one more letter and make sure her friend was okay. But that one more letter had burned words into her mind that had kept her awake; that she would never forget.

The first rays of sunshine filtered into her room and she got out of bed. She went into the kitchen and started making chocolate-chip cookies, using Mandy’s never-fail recipe. Charlie would groan, no doubt, about the repetition of her old favourite. He’d been enjoying her weekly experiments that constituted their morning tea. But today was not the day to try something new.

She wiped down the kitchen and checked her watch. How on earth was she going to pass the next few hours until she could get to Charlie?

She had so many questions. Maybe she should write them down. But where did she start?

She was desperate to know and he’d have the answers. But she couldn’t rush into it. She couldn’t blurt them out and expect answers on the spot. Even if there was time and gentleness enough to broach it with him, there was no guarantee he’d tell her what she wanted to know.

How would she be able to sit across from him and not ask about that night on the beach?

Tick-tock, the minutes plodded by.

She baked another batch of cookies. She cleaned up.

Tick-tock.

Finally the time came. She took in three long breaths and headed to the boatshed.

Nicole slowed her steps as she approached but she couldn’t slow her racing mind.

Charlie was waiting for her, the Scrabble board set up, two cups of tea cooling on their saucers.

‘Morning,’ he greeted her.

‘Morning.’ Nicole smiled weakly.

‘You look terrible. What’s wrong?’

‘I didn’t sleep well, is all.’

Couldn’t stop reading that damn letter.