romantic temperature, and soothe her nerves. Hearing his voice would remind her how much she loved him. The doctor gave her the all clear. If he’d used an emotional stethoscope he’d have seen her damaged heart. Despite the big, high room she was in, guilt pressed in on her like a low ceiling.
On the drive to Jacko’s farm, silence wrapped her in its dark cloak. The tarmac was slick after the rain. Jacko put on the headlights. They reflected back harshly from the shining surface of the road.
Anthea was surprised by Jacko’s quaint wooden farmhouse. It tilted slightly, as though tipsy. The corrugated iron of the roof creaked companionably in the wind. Once inside there were more surprises. The rooms were full of books and paintings and sculptures, with the music of a string quartet playing softly on the stereo. It was not at all what Anthea had expected. It also seemed to have been Jacko who had prepared the meal. As Jane unwrapped the kangaroo steaks, she raved about his gourmet cooking skills. There were lychee and lemon grass cocktails, with fish fillets to follow which he’d marinated in Thai spices. The only food Jane had made was the dessert – an old-fashioned bread and butter pudding, their mother’s favourite, to remind them of home.
Anxious about leaving them alone, Anthea showered as quickly as she could and put on some of her sister’s clothes. During dinner, Jacko and Anthea exchanged knowing glances. Anthea wondered desperately if Jacko had told Jane what she had done. But then surely her sister would not be so friendly now? Anthea arranged her face just so – not smiling, not sad, just attentive. Her usually sleek, blow-dried hair had frizzed up in the humidity. The big wavy mass allowed her to hide behind a curtain of hair.
Blaming jet lag, she finally gave up her vigil and retreated to her cool room above the courtyard and collapsed, sobbing into an old wrought-iron bed. Whenever she closed her eyes, the painful moment when she had tried to seduce her sister’s fiancé was replayed endlessly on her mental screen. Her mind whirred and stopped, whirred and stopped, like a broken clock. Until, finally, she cried herself to sleep.
Anthea woke in the morning to the sound of her sister laughing. She looked into the courtyard to see Jane obviously telling a story and making over-the-top gestures as she did so. Jacko cackled delightedly, patting her hair and kissing her hand. Jane was one of those big, jokey girls with broad shoulders and chewed nails and cuticles. Yet the light around her seemed warmer somehow. Alluring.
Anthea joined them warily. Over brunch, Jacko’s luminous eyes fleetingly held hers in a look of polite contempt. But Jane’s eyes stayed summery with laughter, meaning he hadn’t told her of their close encounter.
After they’d eaten, the sisters left Jacko cleaning up – another surprise, for Anthea, as Rupert never did the housework – and strolled by the creek. She had to lean on her younger sister because of her bandaged ankle. This reversal of roles unnerved her even more.
‘So, you’re happy for me?’ Jane asked.
‘I … I am.’ They were shielded from the sun by the dappled shadow of some gum trees so Jane couldn’t see the confusion in her sister’s eyes.
‘Jacko’s house has a lot of character doesn’t it? Like him.’
‘Yes. Although I thought you’d be in a bigger place …’
Jane laughed. ‘He doesn’t know about my money. We’re happy just the way we are.’
Anthea listened as if through a fog. ‘I was wrong about Jacko,’ she blurted suddenly. ‘I was too quick to judge him,’ she conceded. ‘Maybe you were right about something else too … You don’t need to grow up, Jane. I think I need to grow down.’
Jane looked at her sister with astonishment. ‘You must be the first woman in the world who has been reincarnated
while still alive
,’ she said.
Anthea and Jane smiled at each other, in a cautious way. No longer enemies, they
On the drive to Jacko’s farm, silence wrapped her in its dark cloak. The tarmac was slick after the rain. Jacko put on the headlights. They reflected back harshly from the shining surface of the road.
Anthea was surprised by Jacko’s quaint wooden farmhouse. It tilted slightly, as though tipsy. The corrugated iron of the roof creaked companionably in the wind. Once inside there were more surprises. The rooms were full of books and paintings and sculptures, with the music of a string quartet playing softly on the stereo. It was not at all what Anthea had expected. It also seemed to have been Jacko who had prepared the meal. As Jane unwrapped the kangaroo steaks, she raved about his gourmet cooking skills. There were lychee and lemon grass cocktails, with fish fillets to follow which he’d marinated in Thai spices. The only food Jane had made was the dessert – an old-fashioned bread and butter pudding, their mother’s favourite, to remind them of home.
Anxious about leaving them alone, Anthea showered as quickly as she could and put on some of her sister’s clothes. During dinner, Jacko and Anthea exchanged knowing glances. Anthea wondered desperately if Jacko had told Jane what she had done. But then surely her sister would not be so friendly now? Anthea arranged her face just so – not smiling, not sad, just attentive. Her usually sleek, blow-dried hair had frizzed up in the humidity. The big wavy mass allowed her to hide behind a curtain of hair.
Blaming jet lag, she finally gave up her vigil and retreated to her cool room above the courtyard and collapsed, sobbing into an old wrought-iron bed. Whenever she closed her eyes, the painful moment when she had tried to seduce her sister’s fiancé was replayed endlessly on her mental screen. Her mind whirred and stopped, whirred and stopped, like a broken clock. Until, finally, she cried herself to sleep.
Anthea woke in the morning to the sound of her sister laughing. She looked into the courtyard to see Jane obviously telling a story and making over-the-top gestures as she did so. Jacko cackled delightedly, patting her hair and kissing her hand. Jane was one of those big, jokey girls with broad shoulders and chewed nails and cuticles. Yet the light around her seemed warmer somehow. Alluring.
Anthea joined them warily. Over brunch, Jacko’s luminous eyes fleetingly held hers in a look of polite contempt. But Jane’s eyes stayed summery with laughter, meaning he hadn’t told her of their close encounter.
After they’d eaten, the sisters left Jacko cleaning up – another surprise, for Anthea, as Rupert never did the housework – and strolled by the creek. She had to lean on her younger sister because of her bandaged ankle. This reversal of roles unnerved her even more.
‘So, you’re happy for me?’ Jane asked.
‘I … I am.’ They were shielded from the sun by the dappled shadow of some gum trees so Jane couldn’t see the confusion in her sister’s eyes.
‘Jacko’s house has a lot of character doesn’t it? Like him.’
‘Yes. Although I thought you’d be in a bigger place …’
Jane laughed. ‘He doesn’t know about my money. We’re happy just the way we are.’
Anthea listened as if through a fog. ‘I was wrong about Jacko,’ she blurted suddenly. ‘I was too quick to judge him,’ she conceded. ‘Maybe you were right about something else too … You don’t need to grow up, Jane. I think I need to grow down.’
Jane looked at her sister with astonishment. ‘You must be the first woman in the world who has been reincarnated
while still alive
,’ she said.
Anthea and Jane smiled at each other, in a cautious way. No longer enemies, they
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