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Authors: Anne Ashby
Tags: Contemporary
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of her and Paul taken at some business conference. And one of her parents on the sideboard in her dining room. Her frown deepened.
Here, photos of children, groups, families, even animals, she assumed family pets, all warmed the room. She had no difficulty picking Cathy from the selection of toddler photos on the wall, her infectious grin was apparent even at that age.
Debra’s gaze turned to her companions, blocking any more comparisons between this house and her own bare, empty home. With some steadying breaths she sought to follow Meg’s advice and relax. While her fingers wanted to clench at the other woman’s inference she didn’t know how, she forced them open to lie tensely in her lap.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t relax. No. It was this girls’ time. She didn’t do girls’ time. Hadn’t done anything like this since boarding school, and even there, she’d never really fitted in.
There were seven including her, most still talking at once. The noise level suggested double the number. They didn’t appear to feel the need for formal introductions although she didn’t recognise two. She was thrown friendly nods and smiles which she had no idea how to respond to.
Debra’s eyes darted around. Meg and Cathy, the only girls she’d interacted with since arriving in Riversleigh, were both out of the room. Another jiggle thrust her further back in her seat, but she was still within the loose circle. Like a spare cog in a wheel, she sat within the circle but had nothing to contribute.
Only half listening to a discussion about the latest applications some had down-loaded to their cell phones, she scowled as a good-natured argument erupted about exercise programmes and calorie counters.
Her phone was a business tool, not a toy. She’d never heard of Bubble Shoot or Angry Birds, games the others were now talking about. Never tempted to waste precious time playing silly games, Debra wasn’t even aware such applications existed. But listening as they extolled the virtues of these pastimes, Debra made a mental note to check them out. They sounded like fun.
The breath caught in Debra’s throat. Fun! She didn’t do fun either. She bit her lip as she swam through a haze of uncertainty with as much control as driftwood down a swollen river.
Hoping her pride concealed any signs of her inner turmoil, Debra’s gaze darted around her assembled workmates. They were having fun. A simple discussion about phone applications jelled them together in friendly banter.
Strange and disquieting thoughts raced inside Debra’s head. Why can’t I be a part of this? Their friendliness and laughter was infectious. If only she’d allow herself she could become part of the group. They’d invited her here for that purpose. Her heart thumped.
Uncomfortable sweat glued her shirt to her back. Her hands twisted together. But the girls were drawing her into a circle where she didn’t belong, and didn’t know how to respond. Her mouth opened, ready with some inane comment which might join her to that circle just as a warning voice whispered inside. Don’t be a fool. You’ll regret it.
Experience had taught Debra everything. She’d learnt at an early age how fickle friendships could be. This wouldn’t be any different. It was less painful to hold yourself aloof. Then you never got hurt.
It soon became apparent aloof was something Meg didn’t intend to allow. Seated again on the arm of Debra’s chair, little by little she drew a reluctant Debra out of her safety cocoon.
Uproarious discussion about a hotel regular eventually lured Debra from her decision to remain detached. “You mean he comes every Wednesday and does everything the same? Every visit?”
“Every visit,” one of the girls confirmed. “Same clothes, same time, same meal, same room.”
“Except for his companion.” Everyone cracked up laughing. “They’re never the same.”
“Although he must run out soon.”
“Run out?” Fascinated despite herself,
Here, photos of children, groups, families, even animals, she assumed family pets, all warmed the room. She had no difficulty picking Cathy from the selection of toddler photos on the wall, her infectious grin was apparent even at that age.
Debra’s gaze turned to her companions, blocking any more comparisons between this house and her own bare, empty home. With some steadying breaths she sought to follow Meg’s advice and relax. While her fingers wanted to clench at the other woman’s inference she didn’t know how, she forced them open to lie tensely in her lap.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t relax. No. It was this girls’ time. She didn’t do girls’ time. Hadn’t done anything like this since boarding school, and even there, she’d never really fitted in.
There were seven including her, most still talking at once. The noise level suggested double the number. They didn’t appear to feel the need for formal introductions although she didn’t recognise two. She was thrown friendly nods and smiles which she had no idea how to respond to.
Debra’s eyes darted around. Meg and Cathy, the only girls she’d interacted with since arriving in Riversleigh, were both out of the room. Another jiggle thrust her further back in her seat, but she was still within the loose circle. Like a spare cog in a wheel, she sat within the circle but had nothing to contribute.
Only half listening to a discussion about the latest applications some had down-loaded to their cell phones, she scowled as a good-natured argument erupted about exercise programmes and calorie counters.
Her phone was a business tool, not a toy. She’d never heard of Bubble Shoot or Angry Birds, games the others were now talking about. Never tempted to waste precious time playing silly games, Debra wasn’t even aware such applications existed. But listening as they extolled the virtues of these pastimes, Debra made a mental note to check them out. They sounded like fun.
The breath caught in Debra’s throat. Fun! She didn’t do fun either. She bit her lip as she swam through a haze of uncertainty with as much control as driftwood down a swollen river.
Hoping her pride concealed any signs of her inner turmoil, Debra’s gaze darted around her assembled workmates. They were having fun. A simple discussion about phone applications jelled them together in friendly banter.
Strange and disquieting thoughts raced inside Debra’s head. Why can’t I be a part of this? Their friendliness and laughter was infectious. If only she’d allow herself she could become part of the group. They’d invited her here for that purpose. Her heart thumped.
Uncomfortable sweat glued her shirt to her back. Her hands twisted together. But the girls were drawing her into a circle where she didn’t belong, and didn’t know how to respond. Her mouth opened, ready with some inane comment which might join her to that circle just as a warning voice whispered inside. Don’t be a fool. You’ll regret it.
Experience had taught Debra everything. She’d learnt at an early age how fickle friendships could be. This wouldn’t be any different. It was less painful to hold yourself aloof. Then you never got hurt.
It soon became apparent aloof was something Meg didn’t intend to allow. Seated again on the arm of Debra’s chair, little by little she drew a reluctant Debra out of her safety cocoon.
Uproarious discussion about a hotel regular eventually lured Debra from her decision to remain detached. “You mean he comes every Wednesday and does everything the same? Every visit?”
“Every visit,” one of the girls confirmed. “Same clothes, same time, same meal, same room.”
“Except for his companion.” Everyone cracked up laughing. “They’re never the same.”
“Although he must run out soon.”
“Run out?” Fascinated despite herself,
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