Our Kind of Love by Victoria Purman Read Free Book Online Page B

head back against the leather car seat, closed her eyes, inhaling and exhaling deeply and rhythmically. Her chest rose and fell against the tightness of the seat belt, and when it felt more like strangulation than safety, she unclipped it. She wanted desperately to breathe again, to open her lungs to the fresh air, to flush out what she’d been hiding. The secret she’d been holding in like a terrified breath.
    Anna let the crash and roar of the waves wash over her. Somewhere close by, a magpie trilled. A car drove past, its engine noise eventually fading into the distance.
    Anna felt a familiar prickle in the back of her eyes and dropped her head onto her gripped hands, still clinging on to the steering wheel for dear life. What was she doing here?
    It was mid-afternoon, Saturday. She’d been at the surgery from eight o’clock in the morning and had seen a steady stream of patients until 12.30. She’d been due to meet Alex at the house – her house now – at one o’clock. Her plan was to be there long enough to escort him in to collect his precious things and then leave. She couldn’t be there for the dissection of their life together, didn’t want to watch bits and pieces of her marriage carried out the door by strangers.
    Instead, she’d jumped in her car and started driving. She’d flown past her parents’ house, just around the corner from her own. Noted the turn-off to Grace’s from busy North East Road, but still she didn’t stop. She imagined she might stop on The Parade at Norwood for a coffee but she couldn’t find a park on the tree-lined, cosmopolitan strip. And then she was on Luca’s street in the city, but kept driving. She still couldn’t face them.
    So Anna had kept going, with Pink’s latest album playing so loud she could barely hear the rev of the engine; through the crisp, desiccated lawns of the southern suburbs, onto the southern expressway, past thousands of rows of grapes in McLaren Vale in full leaf, up the sweep of road past Willunga, into the hills again and finally, to the beach.
    To Middle Point.
    To a place where she didn’t feel trapped in the space between her old life and what might come next. To a place where her friends already knew about her and Alex, where she didn’t have to conceal the truth. Except the part about her visit to Slutsville, of course. She hoped Joe had kept quiet about it. He’d promised he could keep a secret, hadn’t he? Anna held her St Christopher’s medal tightly between her fingers. For protection on her journey. For luck. For help. For advice. For times of crisis.
    ‘Anna?’
    Anna jumped in her seat. She dropped the medal and it fell on its chain, finding its familiar place between the curve of her breasts.
    ‘Lizzie?’ Anna lifted her sunglasses.
    Lizzie crouched down to talk to Anna through the open window. Her blonde hair and blue eyes shone.
    ‘Hey Anna! I thought it was you. Your car stands out like a spare you-know-what at a wedding. What are you doing in Middle Point?’ Lizzie’s beaming smile could guide ships home in a storm , Anna thought. Which is exactly what she’d done for Dan.
    ‘I was just out for a drive.’ A drive that happened to be eighty kilometres from home. If Lizzie had any questions about her story, she didn’t ask them.
    Lizzie opened the car door and waved to Anna to step out. Anna hesitated.
    ‘Come in, Anna. Dan’s inside and we’ve just opened a bottle of wine. Isn’t it a gorgeous day? I hope you brought your bikini.’
    Anna reached for her handbag and stepped on to the road.
    ‘God, it’s great to see you!’ Lizzie hugged her and held it longer than a mere acquaintance might. Anna felt herself relax a little. Lizzie had become an instant friend when she’d rescued Anna the night of Ry and Julia’s wedding. Anna had felt so overcome with sadness and grief that she’d staggered to the ladies’ loo at the Middle Point pub and, hidden inside a cubicle, had sobbed. She’d found it unbearable