‘Dad called me at work and said, “Your mother’s dropped dead on the golf course”. At first I thought he was joking, not that it’s something you’d ever joke about, but he just sounded so together.’

‘He mustn’t have really processed it.’ Penelope remembers calling a few of her mother’s friends to tell them after her mum died. She hadn’t even been teary. The words had come out of her mouth as though she was talking about a character on a television show.

The woman shakes her head. ‘No, I guess not.’

They sit in silence for a moment, their eyes drawn to the ocean. Both thinking of death and loss and grief. What could have been, what will never be …

The woman lets out another sob, her pain still raw. Penelope can hear it, fresh like a newborn baby’s cry.

‘I’m sorry, I’m such a mess.’

‘Please don’t apologise.’

The woman wipes at her face again, a little rough this time, seemingly angry with herself. ‘I got sent home from work.’ She shakes her head, ashamed. ‘So unprofessional.’

‘We all have bad days. I’m sure your boss would have understood.’ Penelope hears her phone vibrate again and tries to ignore the longing in her heart to answer it.

‘I guess.’ She swallows hard. ‘I always feel like I’m letting them down. I only work three days but I’m constantly running late and scooting off early, asking for extra time off.’ She drains the last of her wine. ‘Do you have kids?’

Penelope shakes her head, not trusting her voice. She tries not to let her mind wander.

‘I never feel like I have enough time to get anything done, let alone have a minute to myself.’ She glances at her empty wine glass and suddenly looks guilty. ‘I know it doesn’t look like it,’ she indicates around her, ‘but I’ve never done this before.’

Penelope knows that the woman feels like she’s being judged, but if she tries to tell her how much she doesn’t care what this woman does with her time, she’s only going to sound rude, which wouldn’t be her intention at all.

‘When my boss told me to go home, I couldn’t actually face it. The kitchen still has breakfast dishes all across the counter, the floors need a vacuum, there are so many piles of washing that I don’t know what’s clean and what’s dirty.’

Penelope wants to ease the woman’s mind, but she’s had conversations like these before and knows how it goes. Penelope doesn’t have kids, so she doesn’t understand what it’s like to have constant mess and no time. ‘You should enjoy your time out then,’ Penelope says as kindly as she can, hoping to put a full stop on their conversation and turn away.