Inside the shower bay he stood woodenly, feet planted apart, and he allowed the merciful wet to envelop him. When at last the water turned to lukewarm he emerged with a towel to stand at the window and look out over the terraced rooftops, shadowy in the dawn light. The street was deserted; frangipani flowers lay along the gutter and a beady-eyed currawong perched on the iron ledge of his balcony. I will just stand here, he thought. The water dripped from his body but he could not summon the energy to move. Then the phone rang and a car pulled up outside his gate. As he reached for the phone he glanced down into the street and in that moment his heart contracted. The car was Inez’s. The passenger door opened and Daniel unfolded himself onto the pavement. He had an envelope in his hand and in a quick, deft movement he slid it into the letterbox and climbed back into his seat.
The car pulled out into the empty road.
He still has the contents of that envelope, propped against the desk lamp in his study. It is a postcard, a painting of Monet’s waterlilies.
It reads:
Dear John,
Thank you. Thank you for everything.
Love,
Inez
PUBLICATION DETAILS
All stories are previously unpublished apart from the following:
An earlier version of ‘Reading Madame Bovary’ appeared in The Best Australian Stories 2002, ed. Peter Craven, Black Inc., Melbourne, 2002.
Two earlier versions of ‘Perfect’, entitled ‘Diary of Her Body’, appeared in Scripsi, Vol. 6, No. 2, Oxford University Press, Melbourne, 1990; and in Bodyjamming, ed. Jenna Mead, Vintage, Sydney, 1997.
An earlier version of ‘The Art of Convalescence’ appeared in New Australian Stories, ed. Aviva Tuffield, Scribe, Melbourne, 2009.
An earlier version of part of ‘Ground Zero’ appeared in Overland, 164, Spring, 2001.
Reading Madame Bovary Page 24
