Greg looked up at her from beside the barbecue, the first time he had looked at her since they arrived. He held a pair of tongs in one hand, and stood forward on his toes.
The moment passed and the men turned from each other, the conversations picked up, hushed at first. Greg turned back to the sausages. James walked over to the garden beds, the outskirts of the party. He stood alone. She saw how his hair was thinning from above.
Di turned away from him, towards the open door of the house. She tilted her head. There was a faint noise, muffled at first but growing louder. She pushed Jack from her lap and stood, taking him by the hand.
‘Come. I hear a baby crying. Let’s go find her and take her to her mummy.’
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Review of Australian Fiction, Volume 9, Issue 5 Page 5
