haven in search of sustenance. Accordingly, she slipped her runners back on and grabbed her handbag but, before she left, quickly chose a dusty bottle of white from Emily’s wine rack and put it into the freezer to cool. Then she hesitated at the front door when she realised that Emily hadn’t left her with a key, but soon solved this dilemma by latching the front door and just clicking it closed, rather than locking it. Once again, the feeling of entering another world was profound.
By now it was well past six o’clock and the street was thronged with like-minded souls in search of supper. Most of them were still dressed in their work clothes, which appeared to be, especially in the case of the women, predominantly black. Black skirts, black slacks, black shirts, black shoes. Almost like a twilight zone inhabited by a sea of trainee undertakers. In her navy tracksuit pants, lemon hooded-windcheater and runners, Jill stood out like the usurper she was. Self-consciously, she smoothed down the windcheater and arranged the shoulder strap of her handbag over the peanut butter smear on her left breast. Then she shrugged resignedly – after all, it wasn’t as if she were likely to run into any of these people again. Instead she looked up and down the street in search of a supermarket where she would be able to buy the makings of a meal as well as some snacks and some cereal for breakfast. But, amazingly enough, there didn’t seem to be such a place around. With some annoyance, Jill decided not to go in search of one. With the way her luck was running lately, someone would break into Emily’s latched apartment while she was gone and make merry. So instead it would have to be whatever was in sight, as long as the apartment was also in sight.
Jill joined the surge of black dodging the traffic across the street and arrived at the opposite side out of breath. Then sheducked into a French patisserie and bought an elaborate meringue and cream confection for later tonight and a coffee scroll for the morning. Next was a brief visit to a café cum general store next door, where she purchased some milk and a large block of fruit and nut chocolate from a woman with so much hair on her chin that in a previous age she would have had a lucrative career in the circus. Then Jill came back out onto the footpath with her purchases and turned her mind to tea. She could see several restaurants clustered around a large and seemingly very popular pub nearby so she headed in that direction and hoped for inspiration. After first dismissing a Thai bistro on the grounds that she didn’t recognise a single dish on the menu, and then a rather seedy looking Moroccan place on the grounds that it was rather seedy looking, Jill turned the corner past the pub and saw, to her delight, a KFC. At least, she reasoned happily, you knew what you were getting with KFC.
Ten minutes later, laden with purchases, Jill pushed Emily’s front door closed with her butt – and was back in seclusion. She took another deep breath and then, putting the perishables away and leaving the rest on the counter, she poured herself a glass of wine and took it with her Three Piece Meal Deal over to the coffee table. She flopped onto the couch and opened up the KFC boxes, leafing through the pile of magazines on the coffee table while she did so. Good Reading , Pandora , Australian Bookseller & Publisher – not one asking intrusive questions about tongue insertion. Jill smiled happily. After dinner, she would take her wine upstairs and have a bubble bath, then invest some time whitening her teeth, then perhaps enjoy a book, or television, or just play music. And, later on, coffee and chocolate. And that meringue and cream pastry. Last of all would be bed – a whole bed to herself to stretch out in, and sleep in on.
Jill smiled again. Then, while dunking a chip into thick, brown gravy, she spared a moment to wonder what on earth the kids were having for dinner that night.
By now it was well past six o’clock and the street was thronged with like-minded souls in search of supper. Most of them were still dressed in their work clothes, which appeared to be, especially in the case of the women, predominantly black. Black skirts, black slacks, black shirts, black shoes. Almost like a twilight zone inhabited by a sea of trainee undertakers. In her navy tracksuit pants, lemon hooded-windcheater and runners, Jill stood out like the usurper she was. Self-consciously, she smoothed down the windcheater and arranged the shoulder strap of her handbag over the peanut butter smear on her left breast. Then she shrugged resignedly – after all, it wasn’t as if she were likely to run into any of these people again. Instead she looked up and down the street in search of a supermarket where she would be able to buy the makings of a meal as well as some snacks and some cereal for breakfast. But, amazingly enough, there didn’t seem to be such a place around. With some annoyance, Jill decided not to go in search of one. With the way her luck was running lately, someone would break into Emily’s latched apartment while she was gone and make merry. So instead it would have to be whatever was in sight, as long as the apartment was also in sight.
Jill joined the surge of black dodging the traffic across the street and arrived at the opposite side out of breath. Then sheducked into a French patisserie and bought an elaborate meringue and cream confection for later tonight and a coffee scroll for the morning. Next was a brief visit to a café cum general store next door, where she purchased some milk and a large block of fruit and nut chocolate from a woman with so much hair on her chin that in a previous age she would have had a lucrative career in the circus. Then Jill came back out onto the footpath with her purchases and turned her mind to tea. She could see several restaurants clustered around a large and seemingly very popular pub nearby so she headed in that direction and hoped for inspiration. After first dismissing a Thai bistro on the grounds that she didn’t recognise a single dish on the menu, and then a rather seedy looking Moroccan place on the grounds that it was rather seedy looking, Jill turned the corner past the pub and saw, to her delight, a KFC. At least, she reasoned happily, you knew what you were getting with KFC.
Ten minutes later, laden with purchases, Jill pushed Emily’s front door closed with her butt – and was back in seclusion. She took another deep breath and then, putting the perishables away and leaving the rest on the counter, she poured herself a glass of wine and took it with her Three Piece Meal Deal over to the coffee table. She flopped onto the couch and opened up the KFC boxes, leafing through the pile of magazines on the coffee table while she did so. Good Reading , Pandora , Australian Bookseller & Publisher – not one asking intrusive questions about tongue insertion. Jill smiled happily. After dinner, she would take her wine upstairs and have a bubble bath, then invest some time whitening her teeth, then perhaps enjoy a book, or television, or just play music. And, later on, coffee and chocolate. And that meringue and cream pastry. Last of all would be bed – a whole bed to herself to stretch out in, and sleep in on.
Jill smiled again. Then, while dunking a chip into thick, brown gravy, she spared a moment to wonder what on earth the kids were having for dinner that night.
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