A Handful of Pebbles by Sara Alexi Read Free Book Online Page B

and the village seems very active. The deserted porches of the houses she passed yesterday with Liz are now populated with women in house coats as bright and gay as the flowers in the pots. Some sweep, some mop, some tend the flowers. A man sits at one patio table drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes; in another yard, a small dog has its lead tied to the table leg. Mopeds hum and zip past her. It all feels very busy.
    Up the side road that leads to Juliet ’s and the cottage is a large battered van with its back doors flung open. Two women are talking and peering into the depths of the vehicle. Boiler suits and floral dresses on hangers are hooked over its doors. Buckets with mops in front of them, baskets of tea-towels and something else Sarah does not recognise, and in the centre of this cornucopia, leaning into the van, rummaging for something, is a man whistling a happy tune. The scene feels at odds with how she feels so she looks away, to the bins; big industrial metal bins on wheels, the green plastic lids flipped back and nervous cats tearing through the contents.
    Despite the growing heat , Sarah quickens her pace up the lane, eager to be somewhere alone, safe. She has no idea what is happening to her, but it does not need an audience. She barely looks at the holiday home as she pushes open the gate. She does not take in the stone-walled sitting room where Laurence sits, peering at his laptop.
    ‘ Morning. A little worse for wear are we?’
    ‘ Where’s the bathroom?’
    He points to a door in the corner.
    ‘You okay?’ he asks, looking back at the computer screen.
    ‘ Fine. Need a bath.’ The door closes solidly behind her. She locks it and exhales.

Chapter 6

    The water threatens to slosh over the edge as she lowers herself into the metal bath. A small square window has been placed so she can look out over the garden whilst soaking, and it offers a view of a huge cascading fig tree with a slice of sparkling blue pool in front. She knows she should be thrilled to be here. She slips down, and the water covers her face. All is quiet except a hollow ring as her heel hits against the bottom. Opening her eyes under water, the blue-painted boards that are the ceiling smear and undulate. Blue. Everything is blue. Letting out a bubble, she wonders how long she can hold her breath. She begins to feel a tightness in her chest, the building of pressure, her body fighting, her reflexes kicking in. The blue is all-absorbing. What if she were never to breathe again? What if she were to breathe in the water? She lets another bubble escape. They say it is pleasant after the first breath—dreamy and calm. Her leg jerks as her lungs demand air. Kicking down with her heels, she pushes off, explodes out of the water gasping, the brilliance of the sunlight startling, and the water now slopping over the edge and onto the tiled floor. She is hit with how beautiful everything is in the sunlight, the white of the walls, the blue of the window frame, the green of the fig tree. But it is an academic beauty that leaves her unmoved.
    ‘ What’s wrong with me?’ The words float over the water. She is answered by a multitude of feelings, each jostling for attention.
    The dominant one does not surprise her. With Finn married , her role as mother is all but gone. Finn and Helena will probably stay living in London, although Finn has seen possibilities of taking his work to America, to be near Joss and even further from her. His clothes will then always be washed and ironed by Helena, or, more likely, by a housekeeper. His meals will always be cooked by Helena. But then, hasn’t that been happening since he moved to London anyway? It is not that her role is officially being relinquished to another, it’s not jealousy, it’s ... Sarah struggles to define it. It is a feeling of uselessness mixed in with a pointlessness mixed in turn with an it-doesn’t-matter-ness .
    ‘ Not your average doesn’t-matter-ness,’ Sarah whispers to