Now it was Sunday and she had nothing for which to prepare – nothing to stop her thoughts churning over and over like the waves outside her tiny home. She made herself tea and sat on the sofa, listening to the wail of the wind as it tore around the corners of the Fishergirl’s Luck. She imagined Bren and wondered if she’d ever sat in the same place, nursing a quandary, trying to see her way through the murk of uncertainty towards a difficult decision. Anna doubted it, somehow. When she thought of Bren MacKenzie what came to mind was a capable, collected woman who had always known her own mind, a woman who had travelled through life on a simple yet direct and determined trajectory of her own choosing. Who else could have seen this old stone shack and realized it could be lived in, and then proceeded to turn it into such a haven? At the time Bren had decided to do so, too, when women, especially here on the ragged edge of a harsh shore, would have been expected to take a far different route than the one she had chosen. Part of Anna wished Bren were here now. She could imagine her as a good listener, who would sit opposite with her own steaming cup of tea and a patient look on her face as Anna spilled her troubles out over the small coffee table. What would Bren’s advice be? She’d never married, never had children. Was that a choice, Anna wondered now, or simply that the opportunity had never afforded itself?

Bren wasn’t there and could help her with none of these questions, especially not the most difficult one that Anna had to answer for herself. She lifted her mug to her lips, realized she’d drunk her tea already, got up to put the kettle on again and glanced at the clock. It was almost 10 a.m. This would usually be the time that Glynn and David might knock on the door, but they were away in Portugal for a week, soaking up some more certain sun. Anna waited until her second tea of the day was ready, her heart thumping a little quicker as she stirred milk into her mug. Then she went to the phone and dialled Cathy’s number.

This is it, she thought, as the phone rang out. Once I say it out loud to someone else, it’ll be real and I’ll have to deal with it.

‘There you are!’ Cathy exclaimed, once Anna had said hello. ‘I was beginning to think the hot Kiwi had come back on his hands and knees and whisked you off to New Zealand.’

Anna couldn’t raise a laugh. ‘No, nothing like that.’

‘What’s wrong?’ her friend asked, immediately. ‘The old man didn’t cause trouble again?’

‘No, no. The lunches went well. Really well, actually.’

‘Right. Well, that’s great, but what’s going on?’