I drew a box around it, making it all stand out on the page. Yes. I wanted to please myself and try new things and make some mistakes. I’d been holding my breath, seeking approval to exist, taking up as little space as possible and being who everyone else told me I was instead of who I am. And I was over it.

I looked at Patrick again, leaning over to switch off his monitor. We both fell into darkness.

I closed my eyes and slept heavily, dreamlessly, contentedly, only waking up in time for breakfast before landing.

13

In arrivals, a pretty, tuxedoed woman in a driver’s hat stood with a huge sign that said ANNIE + GUEST on it.

‘Oh,’ I said to Patrick as we both clocked her. ‘I wasn’t expecting anyone to be picking us up. I assumed we’d just hop in a cab …’

Patrick yawned lazily. ‘I’m very quickly learning to put aside any and all expectations to be honest. You really undersold this honeymoon, you know.’

I knew what he meant.

Fixing my face into a smile I waved at my name. ‘I’m Annie,’ I said, trying to sound less exhausted than I was. Even in business class, flying to the other side of the world was no mean feat. ‘Annie Wiig. Are you for me? Did the hotel send you?’

‘They did indeed,’ she replied, surprising me with a Cockney accent. ‘I’m Bianca. I’ll be taking you the three hours down the road to Margaret River.’ She stepped in front of Patrick to take the luggage trolley from him. ‘This way,’ she instructed, chirpily. ‘Follow me.’

Patrick whispered: ‘You were going to get a cab to take us three hours?’

Thank the Lord the hotel had sent a car.

We had to break into a jog in order to weave behind Bianca through the crowd, her neat ponytail lacing down her back. It was almost 2 p.m. local time and surprisingly mild – I didn’t need the cardigan I wore to guard against the aeroplane’s chilly air conditioning, and wondered if she was warm in her suit jacket. We stepped outside into blue skies with only the odd cloud and, as I went to move around the back of a stretch limousine to cross the road, Bianca called to me, ‘Annie, love? This is us.’

She popped the boot and started to load our bags in.

‘Please,’ she insisted, waving a hand. ‘You get inside and get comfortable.’

‘Christ,’ Patrick uttered in delight as we shut the door behind us. The whole inside was cream leather, and there was wine and water and snacks, although the thought of any of it made my tummy lurch. I was disorientated and unsure, and mostly just really wanted a shower. The screen dividing the back from the driver’s area at the front came down.

‘You ready?’ asked Bianca.