threw herself onto it. Then she put her hands underher head, closed her eyes and let the music wash over her. Five minutes later, and with considerable effort, Jill pulled herself back from the brink of sleep. She sat up quickly and shook her head to clear it, because there was no way she was going to waste this precious evening sleeping. There was much too much else to enjoy.
First, she took a slow and appreciative tour of the apartment, checking out any changes Emily might have made since she was last here. She spent some considerable time on the mezzanine level, wandering past the bookshelf and running her hand along the spines. Occasionally she found a book whose title she recognised, but more often they were ones that she had never heard of – all exotic, and modern, and full of tantalising tales of other lives and places being experienced whilst she had been stuck in stultifying suburbia. Twice, when she slipped a book out from the shelf and flicked it open, she found Emily’s name amongst the acknowledgements, followed by effusive thanks from the author. By the time she was finished she was pea-green with envy and all the more convinced that somewhere, somehow, she had taken a wrong turn in her life. This should have been her. Encased in fingerprint-less Tuscan yellow and surrounded by books that were all autographed with implements other than multicoloured crayons.
But her envy was quickly supplanted by pure wonder as she entered Emily’s bedroom and was transfixed by the sight of the setting sun through the huge semicircular window. It was spectacular. The refractive lozenges glowed with an array of intense colours that reflected shimmering droplets of light across the room and over the bedroom walls. Jill bit her bottom lip in awe and walked slowly into the centre of the room. There, she raised her arms to interrupt the beam and make some of the glistening droplets dance crazily across the walls. And suddenly she was part of the light show herself. She turned, slowly at firstwith her arms still up, and then faster and faster, conducting the display with her hands, and with patches of red and green and yellow skipping frenetically across her body.
She only stopped when she was exhausted, by which time the colours had begun to fade as the sun disappeared from view. She threw herself on the bed and clambered over to the window, kneeling up to peer out at the setting sun. For a moment, while watching the glow seep into the rooftops of Melbourne, she felt a shaft of regret that Jack and the kids weren’t there to experience it – and then she laughed at herself for the thought.
Flopping back onto the bed, she leaned over and pulled open Emily’s top drawer to investigate. A tumble of lacy knickers, a few extremely non-supportive bras and a black suspender belt edged with fine, spidery lace. Jill folded and replaced them neatly. The next drawer yielded pantihose, sports socks and a variety of packaged condoms. Small, medium, large and frighteningly extra-large. Ribbed, coloured and all guaranteed to heighten sensation.
Jill read the blurbs on the multi-patterned packages with an increased sense of admiration for her sister’s nefarious exploits. After adding the information regarding how best to fit a noduled condom to her store of knowledge, she shoved the packages back into the drawer and covered them with the socks and hosiery. Then she hefted herself off the bed and padded downstairs to find something to eat.
This proved to be more difficult than she had anticipated. Emily’s fridge yielded nothing more appetising than a tub of hommus, a container full of something that looked unidentifiably foreign, and a can of pressure-packed whipped cream which, after discovering the extent of Emily’s condom collection, Jill vaguely suspected had never been used for decorating dessert. In the strictest sense of the word, anyway.
Reluctantly, Jill decided that she would have no choice but to leave her temporary
First, she took a slow and appreciative tour of the apartment, checking out any changes Emily might have made since she was last here. She spent some considerable time on the mezzanine level, wandering past the bookshelf and running her hand along the spines. Occasionally she found a book whose title she recognised, but more often they were ones that she had never heard of – all exotic, and modern, and full of tantalising tales of other lives and places being experienced whilst she had been stuck in stultifying suburbia. Twice, when she slipped a book out from the shelf and flicked it open, she found Emily’s name amongst the acknowledgements, followed by effusive thanks from the author. By the time she was finished she was pea-green with envy and all the more convinced that somewhere, somehow, she had taken a wrong turn in her life. This should have been her. Encased in fingerprint-less Tuscan yellow and surrounded by books that were all autographed with implements other than multicoloured crayons.
But her envy was quickly supplanted by pure wonder as she entered Emily’s bedroom and was transfixed by the sight of the setting sun through the huge semicircular window. It was spectacular. The refractive lozenges glowed with an array of intense colours that reflected shimmering droplets of light across the room and over the bedroom walls. Jill bit her bottom lip in awe and walked slowly into the centre of the room. There, she raised her arms to interrupt the beam and make some of the glistening droplets dance crazily across the walls. And suddenly she was part of the light show herself. She turned, slowly at firstwith her arms still up, and then faster and faster, conducting the display with her hands, and with patches of red and green and yellow skipping frenetically across her body.
She only stopped when she was exhausted, by which time the colours had begun to fade as the sun disappeared from view. She threw herself on the bed and clambered over to the window, kneeling up to peer out at the setting sun. For a moment, while watching the glow seep into the rooftops of Melbourne, she felt a shaft of regret that Jack and the kids weren’t there to experience it – and then she laughed at herself for the thought.
Flopping back onto the bed, she leaned over and pulled open Emily’s top drawer to investigate. A tumble of lacy knickers, a few extremely non-supportive bras and a black suspender belt edged with fine, spidery lace. Jill folded and replaced them neatly. The next drawer yielded pantihose, sports socks and a variety of packaged condoms. Small, medium, large and frighteningly extra-large. Ribbed, coloured and all guaranteed to heighten sensation.
Jill read the blurbs on the multi-patterned packages with an increased sense of admiration for her sister’s nefarious exploits. After adding the information regarding how best to fit a noduled condom to her store of knowledge, she shoved the packages back into the drawer and covered them with the socks and hosiery. Then she hefted herself off the bed and padded downstairs to find something to eat.
This proved to be more difficult than she had anticipated. Emily’s fridge yielded nothing more appetising than a tub of hommus, a container full of something that looked unidentifiably foreign, and a can of pressure-packed whipped cream which, after discovering the extent of Emily’s condom collection, Jill vaguely suspected had never been used for decorating dessert. In the strictest sense of the word, anyway.
Reluctantly, Jill decided that she would have no choice but to leave her temporary
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