“This was definitely the place. That was her small car there, parked in the narrow driveway. But who owned the red two-door nestled in close behind? She’d said she didn’t have a partner. His gut clenched at the prospect she might have lied to him. She’d said she had ‘responsibilities’. Was that what she’d been trying to tell him at the café—that she had a relationship, that she had a boyfriend she’d been reluctant to admit to? He watched the house for a few minutes, his window wound down, the li...ght morning breeze puffing through the opening. You could smell the sea from here. Smell it but not see it. She hadn’t bought a place right on the sea. Surprising after her love affair with the sea in Crete. She’d loved its deep, bright blue against the stark white of sand or the rubble of rock. Surely she could have found something closer than this? Or was this all she was able to afford? He looked at the ageing cottage again—there wasn’t a lot to it: a single-fronted older style place, built of stone, with flaking wooden fretwork around the small verandah out front, and all topped by a typical red Sydney roof in obvious need of repair.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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