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Chapter 3

Anna settled on dark jeans and wedges. The t-shirt stayed; she was just being herself, making no particular effort for anyone she might see that evening. She was so tense and for what? she told herself. Frida might not even come. And even if Sophie did know the whole sad story, it had happened eight years ago. Surely it required no more than a passing comment. Anna could fake indifference for a few minutes and then change the subject gracefully and… and avoid Sophie for the rest of the meal.

Surely.

Mere was making a flourless chocolate cake, with the intention of inviting everyone back to the house after dinner and convincing the world in general that a low-carb diet needn't be boring. Oscar was trying to help, but only managed to drop one of the six eggs on the floor. Anna tore paper towels off the roll. "It's alright, I'll get it."

Cam bolted into the kitchen, wearing his apron, ready to help with the next stage of baking. He leapt over where Anna was crouched on the floor, mopping egg and shell.

"Whoa!" His feet slipped out from under him on a glob of egg white. He went down fast, his shoulder catching the rung of a bar stool with a sickening crack.

Silence followed, a long, horrible nothing, ended by Mere's scream and Cam's breathless whimpering. His eyes were wide. He looked at his mom and curled his knees into his stomach and howled.

Anna sprung into action. "I gotcha." She inched him away from the bar stool so he could lie down on the floor. "Ice, Mere, get some peas or something. Oscar, go grab a pillow from the couch." She pulled her phone from her back pocket, swiping aside a message from Selina to call Charlie.

They returned from A&E in rush-hour traffic, Charlie driving, stopping, driving, stopping. Mere sat in the front, giving snippy advice on alternative routes in-between texting updates to Charlie's parents. Anna was wedged in the back between the boys' car seats. Oscar was sleeping. Cam was dosed up and happy.

Anna was thinking of the evening ahead. Surely after all this they wouldn't go to dinner with the Lafoluas.

Sitting in the middle seat, Anna could see her own reflection in the rear-view mirror. She had changed in eight years. Her hair was shorter; her face thinner, a little lined; the shadows under her eyes were deeper, and her eyes—they were not the same as in the photos. She was older and wiser, but not in a way she could confidently wear to dinner with an ex.

Mere pressed her phone to her ear with a huff. Waiting for the person on the other end to answer, she spoke to Charlie. "We'll have to miss dinner, I suppose."

"We don't all need to miss out? The boys don't need three adults to watch them. I don't intend to miss out on meeting Adam Lafolua just to sit at home and watch television."

"Well if you're not—" Mere stopped short and changed tone dramatically as she answered the phone. "Hi Dominic, it's me. Charlie's determined to come, so I suppose I'll have to stay home with the boys. Men always get out of..."

"I can watch the boys," Anna said.

Mere swiveled to look at her, then spoke into the phone. "Okay, it's all decided. Charlie and I will be there. No, Anna's going to babysit. Yes. Yes. No, it's fine. He can't feel a thing. He'll be just as happy with a takeaway pizza. See you shortly." She dropped her phone triumphantly into her purse. "Well that works. Why didn't I think of it? You're the perfect person to look after Cam. It's much more difficult for me, as his mother. I feel it so much more. You're not a mother. You don't know what it's like."

Anna took Cam's hand, on his uninjured side. "Shall we watch Walking with Dinosaurs? We could get bolognese and pretend we're carnivores, eating the intestines of herbivores."

"Or omnivores," Cam added, for the sake of accuracy.

Mere shuddered, which gave Anna the slightest feeling of satisfaction. It was a kind of revenge, however mild.

"We'll invite them all back for coffee after. How about that?" Mere said. "You could finish off the cake we were making this afternoon."

Charlie shook his head, "I've been wanting to try this panna cotta Louis invented."

"It's hardly a new invention. Coconut and pineapple—glorified pina colada."

Anna squeezed Cam's hand. "We'll get down the dinosaur toys and watch the movie. We'll probably have even more fun than the grown-ups."

"Definitely."

"I could come home after dinner?" Charlie offered. "Take over the babysitting and let you pop next door for a drink, a bit of non-dinosaur-related conversation."

"It's fine, Charlie. I'm tired. I'll probably be asleep before Oscar if he naps for much longer."

After the boys were asleep, Anna tidied up the dishes and put the leftover spaghetti in the fridge. She closed the windows so the bugs wouldn't get in, but the house felt stuffy and oppressively silent. She didn't dare play guitar for fear of waking Oscar, who had finally gone to sleep only an hour after his normal bedtime. She stepped out onto the deck, and considered a swim.

Then she saw the trampoline. She had been sitting around most of the day: on the sofa, in the car, in the emergency room, in the car again, and back to the sofa. Getting to sleep tonight would be hard enough with the possibility that Frida was just next door. Anna could do with a good bit of exercise. She would bounce the voices out of her head, or exhaust herself trying.

She remembered a few moves from the last time she'd been on a trampoline—probably a year ago. She threw herself onto her back and then arched up, trying to land on her feet. It took her a few tries and then she got into the rhythm of it, bouncing along with the music drifting across from the restaurant next door, the hum of conversation, the clatter of dishes. She imagined she could hear Frida's voice above the others and lost the beat, missed her footing, and flopped down.

She waited for the springs to still and lay there in the dark, listening to her own breathing, looking up at the wispy clouds skidding across the sky, the stars coming out beyond—the few she could see through the light pollution.

"No way!" Charlie's voice carried. The restaurant must have all the windows open.

"I shit you not." That was Frida. There wasn't a doubt in Anna's mind. Frida's voice hadn't changed a bit. Anna strained to hear another word but it was muffled, jumbled with other voices.

Anna let out a held breath and got up. She bounced as high as she could, turning around gradually, as if she didn't mean to, until she could see over the fence, glimpse the yellow-lit windows of the restaurant, see the people inside at tables. There was Charlie, and that must be Adam. There was Mere and Dominic—the other end of the table was blocked from view by a tree.

Damn it.

Anna stopped jumping. Her legs jarred against the trampoline. What was she doing? She'd made a concerted effort to avoid meeting Frida, and now she was spying?

She had one more episode of Blue Planet II. Maybe fights for survival and the imminent threat of global warming could distract her from her own lonely desperation and general pathetic-ness.

When Mere and Charlie came in, Anna was in bed with Attenborough. The creation of marine reserves is vital if we're to safeguard the future of many ocean creatures. It will require international cooperation. Anna watched an enormous whale, dotted in phosphorescence, move as if in slow motion through the deep. Here too there is hope. We can turn things around. We've done so once before.

Anna pulled one headphone out to hear Charlie declare that they'd had a wonderful evening.

"Frida was charming. I don't know what you were talking about this afternoon."

Meredith agreed. "Perhaps she was in awe of the house."

"Indeed. Probably thinking of all the photos she can take from that balcony. She's so down-to-earth—I can't believe the Frida Wentworth is Lafolua's sister-in-law. Talk about a talented family."

Frida was eager-to-please, a genius photographer, and quick to share her knowledge and experience. Tomorrow, she and Charlie were going up Mt Eden; she was going to teach him how to capture the dawn light.

Anna paused Attenborough's history of whaling.

"I have no interest in being woken while it's still dark." Mary's voice got higher on every other word. "I'm on holiday!"

"Don't worry, I'll meet her next door. Louis wants to come too. I wouldn't be surprised if Hannah tags along."

"She seemed quite taken with her, didn't she?"

"I didn't mean it like that."

Anna rolled over, willing them to go upstairs and leave her in blissful ignorance.

At least Frida wouldn't come to the house. That was something. They would avoid meeting, again. It couldn't last long, but another twelve hours… Anna would take what she could get.

Cam woke in the small hours, sad and sore. Anna heard him and carried him out to the living room so as not to wake anyone else. She dosed him up and put on a cartoon until he drifted off, but she was still trapped beneath him when Charlie came down.

"Anna, you're an angel." He filled the kettle. "Can I make you a cuppa?"

"I won't say no."

"I'm off to take photos with Frida." He clanked two cups down on the bench. "I can hardly believe it. Of all the people in the world to show me the trick with white balance to capture a sunrise…"

"Nice."

"Oh, she remembered you, by the way. Said something about a youth group. I didn't realize you'd been into that sort of thing."

Anna nodded, willing herself not to be bothered.

He put her cup of tea on the coffee table, just out of reach.

"Sophie and Frida's sister was a vicar there," Anna explained, testing her own courage by saying it out loud. "I was a youth leader while I was studying."

"Must be progressive."

Anna bit the inside of her cheek. In fact, it hadn't been that progressive. When someone took issue with Anna and Frida's relationship, Mona had been ready to stand by them, though there had been risks to her job. Frida had been furious about the entire situation. It had been less than a week later when everything fell to pieces.

Charlie went back to the kitchen, topped up his tea with cold water and gulped it down with a grimace. "Gotta go."

Anna listened for the sound of the front door closing and breathed a sigh of relief. She looked over at her tea, then down at Cam. He seemed soundly asleep. She eased him over onto the cushions and slid out.

Her tea was criminally weak. She tipped it out and made a coffee instead. She wouldn't get back to sleep now, regardless.

It was a gorgeous morning. A walk up Mount Eden would be just the thing—but that was where Charlie and Frida had gone.

Anna went out to the deck to drink her coffee. Not a moment after she sat down, Charlie ran up the driveway. "Frida says I should learn on my own camera—I'm just grabbing it. Say hello, if you like." He dashed inside.

Anna had two seconds to prepare herself. Two seconds to panic and plaster a neutral expression on her features.

Frida stepped around the trellis.

She looked just the same: long wavy hair in a loose braid resting on her shoulder, dark strands falling free around her face. Dark eyes and a sharp nose; the twist of her lip, the curve of her chin. Anna gripped her coffee cup with both hands, looked Frida in the eye, and froze. Louis was right behind Frida, busy looking at his phone. "It has auto settings, but you can change them manually."

Frida looked away, as if Anna were a stranger.

"Why are you up so early?" Louis said to Anna. "Are you coming with us?"

"No, I was up with Cam."

Frida cleared her throat. "How's he doing?"

"He, ah, went back to sleep." Anna tried to force her gaze up, to meet Frida's, to show that she wasn't bothered. By the time Anna managed it, Frida was looking at Louis' phone.

"We can do something with that. Better than nothing anyway." She passed his phone back.

Charlie reappeared, arms full of gear. "Tripod or no tripod."

"If you want to do long exposure..." Frida sunk her hands in the pockets of her denim shorts and glanced at Anna again. Perhaps she wasn't entirely unaffected.

"Right, well," Charlie looked up at the paling sky, "we'd better get a move on."

"See you later." Louis put his hand out to take the tripod.

Charlie gave it to him. "We could come back for breakfast after. Anna does a mean poached egg."

"She's got her hands full with Cameron, surely." Frida turned away from Anna, speaking to Charlie.

They walked away and she couldn't make out what they were saying to each other. Anna slumped down into the nearest chair, and held the warm coffee cup to her chest.

She had heard Frida's voice, looked her in the eye; the first dreaded meeting was over. The worst had passed. Anna had seen Frida up close. They had been in the same space again, spoken to one another—minimally, but still.

How was it eight years? Such a long time. How ridiculous to let it bother her. These feelings were long gone—just memories, ghosts, no substance to them at all. Anna could not—would not—go back to how lost and hopeless she had been when Frida left.

How did Frida feel about seeing her again? Oh, but that was just the sort of question Anna mustn't dwell on.

Mere came down, in her Lycra running things. "Did they say which way they were going? I'll catch them up, no problem."

"Oh, I thought you wanted a sleep-in."

"I did, but now I'm awake. Might as well get some exercise. And since you're here to keep an eye on the boys… Did they say if they'd take the Owens Road path?"

"Sorry."

"Never mind, I'll find them." She fixed her laces and took off.

Left alone with her coffee, Anna's thoughts returned immediately to the impossible question of Frida's thoughts and feelings.

And yet she had an answer, only a short time later, at breakfast with Charlie and Mere.

"Frida wasn't very nice about you, Anna. She took so many photos of me—said I had a perfect silhouette! Isn't that a compliment and a half! But when Louis asked if you'd changed, Frida said she could have walked right past you in a crowd. Wouldn't have recognized you at all! I've told you you should grow out your hair a bit."

Anna let the pain of it fill her up. That's what you get for not moving on with your life, she told herself. Frida only looked more devastating. At twenty-two she had been curvy and confident, and eight years later she hadn't changed—or not for the worse. She'd gained nothing but character, substance. Comfortable in her own skin, certain of her place in the world, she was impressive, undeniably. Full of humor, easy going—the same as ever, Anna had to admit. And Anna was unrecognizable; it might have been an exaggeration, but there was no denying Anna had changed. And Frida was… still stunning.

She'd have walked right past you in a crowd. These words haunted Anna all day, and the next, and it was not until the weekend that she began to see their value; they were sobering, they answered her questions, they might, in the long run, make Anna happier; she need not wonder if there was hope. There was none.

Frida could not have known Anna would hear her words; they were not meant for Anna's ears. It was not cruel; Frida had been nothing but honest. Perhaps she had not forgiven Anna. Time did not erase the past. Anna had betrayed and disappointed her. Worse, perhaps, she had been swayed by other people's opinions—as Frida, so sure of herself, so bold and brave, never would have been. Frida couldn't be blamed for hurting her—not today. Today was all accidental.

Eight years ago…

"Why does it have to start so early?" Frida sat down in the pew beside Anna. "It's like they don't want people to come."

"The coffee shops over the way do alright out of it." Anna had hardly stopped thinking about this woman since they'd met—less than twenty-four hours ago, and yet it felt like so much longer.

"Yeah, I think Mona has some kind of hustle going on. She's caffeine on legs."

"Is there any other way to be?" Anna shifted in the pew. They were sitting delightfully close together.

"Ah, woman after my own heart."

Anna willed herself to be cool.

"We could, you know, sneak out the side door. Go for coffee right now?" suggested Frida.

"Mona might notice."

Frida shrugged. "She has to forgive us. That's all part of it, right?" She leaned back in the pew, making herself at home. "Holy cow, these are not comfortable."

After the service, they made for the nearest cafe.

"We could have avoided the brunch rush." Frida looked around for seats she knew perfectly well they wouldn't find. The place was packed.

Anna led the way out, cardboard coffee cup in hand. "We've been sitting down all morning." She wove through tables laden with eggs Benedict and French toast. Outside, the day was perfect, sun shining like syrup and hardly a breath of wind.

Frida shivered and gave a happy moan. "Damn, thank goodness winter's over."

Anna could see the goosebumps on her arm, fine hairs standing on end. No camera today, she noticed. "So when do you find out if the paper will use your photos from the fair?"

"Mona's getting a write-up, so chances are they'll want something. But no such thing as a guarantee."

"Do newspapers tend to change their minds?"

"If there's real news, church fairs get cut. That's the game."

"That's gotta be hard though, not knowing if you'll… get paid."

Frida nodded. "I could do weddings, pregnancy photo shoots, but as soon as you've got a frothy family photo reputation, good luck breaking into hard news."

"I like teaching, I do, but I have to admit the steady income is a factor."

"Most people think I'm crazy."

"I think you're brave."

Frida looked at her earnestly.

"What?"

"You have a halo." Frida touched Anna's sun-warmed hair.

The good-girl image didn't usually bother Anna, but suddenly it did. "It's just a trick of the light."

Frida let her hand run down the length of Anna's hair.

Expectation hung in the silence. And then someone honked their horn at the intersection up the road, and Frida laughed, and Anna felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment.

Awkward but happy, they walked on down the road. Frida slowed to touch a coat hanging outside a thrift store.

"Want to go in?" Anna said.

"Nah, it's pricey."

"Why do second-hand shops do that?" Anna fingered a silky shirt.

"Trying to convince rich people that it's okay to shop there?"

"There's a great one just down from the university."

"Miss Bliss? I love that place."

"I got these pants there." Anna did a twirl in the middle of the footpath. What had gotten into her? Pirouetting in the middle of Parnell. Frida looked her up and down.

"There's only one thing to do," Frida said—but so suggestively. Then she grinned and laughed silently. "Sorry, I just meant we should go. Sometime. To Miss Bliss—now I've gone and made it dirty."

Anna had never felt anything like it—exhilaration, fascination, wonder, confusion, excitement. A sense of expectation sitting warm and low in her chest, like a severe weather warning. She felt powerful and powerless at the same time. Terrified, and brave. Sailing full-tilt around a headland with a good map, knowing what was coming. But only in theory. She hadn't been here before, hadn't seen it with her own eyes. Hope made her the best version of herself. She'd never been happier—and nothing had even happened yet.

I'm thinking I'll keep posting the chapters up-to and including Christmas... the Christmas chapter! So awkward... spending Christmas with the ex. Just imagine... or, if you don't want to imagine (or wait) you can buy Within My Reach on any e-book platform for just US$3.99! Go to books2read dot com /withinmyreach