She could almost read his thoughts. Could read them a little better than when she’d first met him, anyway. She’d bet he was thinking, What sort of relationship have we had? It can’t have become too much in a week, surely? She hoped she didn’t look like a woman who needed him to escape her life, or needed to grasp at men who didn’t remember her.

She added, ‘If you like, I could drop in here before I leave this afternoon and introduce you to my mother and grandmother. They can add their invitation to mine. They’ll be going back today ahead of me and you could see if you feel comfortable with them. I don’t want to pressure you.’

Yes, she did, but she’d try not to. Honestly. Now, however, it was time to go.

She stood. ‘I pick up my replacement car this afternoon and will be heading to the station tomorrow before lunch. We’ll talk again tomorrow but then I’ll be gone.’ She tried to look calm about his indecision, to look like the patient woman she was known as. Funny how she couldn’t find much calm resignation at this moment. Soon she’d be leaving for a month.

She hoped he’d make the right decision.

Chapter Sixteen

Stella

In her flat on the outskirts of Alice Springs, Stella gripped the verandah rail and stared down at her work-roughened fingers and tried to bend steel. It wasn’t working.

Her fingers were white and ugly. She did not possess a sophisticated woman’s hand – like Lorenzo would be used to – with all her cracked, short nails torn in places from hard work. She eased the pressure and looked away from her offensive digits through the buildings across the street to the glimpse of desert beyond. She could just see the sand-crusted hill with saltbush and drew in a deep breath as if the freedom out there could settle her agitation.

‘Are you all right, Stella?’

She turned to see her mother poking her head out of the bedroom door onto the verandah, as if unsure whether it was safe to venture further. Considering Mim didn’t know the meaning of fear, her expression made Stella smile, if a little reluctantly.

‘My brain feels like an overfilled chaff bag ready to explode.’

‘I can tell that, dear.’

Oops. If her mother was calling her ‘dear’, she’d been difficult to live with.

‘Sorry, Mim.’ Stella gestured to the two chairs on the tiny balcony and Mim came out and sat down. Stella watched as Mim donned her listening pose with her hands settled demurely in her lap, and her smile grew a little. So many times her mother had settled herself in that pose.