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guys. Welcome,’ Dom says, smiling. ‘Ah, and the dazzling Gloria! Still working that black to perfection I see.’

‘Well, it is my signature,’ Gloria replies, a huge smile across her broad face.

I can’t help staring as he leads us up the stairs and onto the verandah. Even with Gloria poking me in the back, I’m lost for words. Every emotion I felt for him all those years ago is rising to the surface. I’m powerless to stop them.

‘Your home is gorgeous,’ I manage, as Dom takes us on a tour of the house. ‘And your furniture is exquisite.’

‘All locally made,’ he says.

I’m hardly listening. He could say he tortured chickens for a living and I’d reply, ‘That’s nice.’ Clearly, I’m not in charge of my emotions. I’ve been in his presence all of five minutes and my legs are jelly. I just want him to kiss me.

‘This place is massive,’ says Sam.

‘You live here alone?’ Gloria asks.

I mouth the word ‘subtle’ at her and shake my head.

She glances in my direction then smiles sweetly at Dom.

‘Nah, I live with Rusty. Hey, Rusty,’ he calls out. ‘Our visitors have arrived.’

My stomach lurches. Immediately, I feel nauseous and sad.

‘Here she is,’ Dom says as a portly red Labrador lumbers up beside him. ‘Rusty, this is everyone. Everyone, this is Rusty.’

‘She’s beautiful,’ Bella says, dropping to her knees and enveloping Rusty in a gigantic hug.

‘If you throw a tennis ball for her, she’ll be your best friend,’ Dom says.

‘Cool,’ Bella and Sam chorus. They run outside, Rusty at their heels.

‘So it’s just you and Rusty?’ Gloria persists. ‘You’re not married or -’

‘Gloria!’ I warn.

‘What?’ says Dom. ‘I don’t mind. Yes, I was married. Didn’t work out.’

‘Lucy was -’

‘Is,’ I remind her.

‘- married to an arsehole,’ Gloria finishes.

‘Surprisingly, it’s not that difficult to marry an arsehole,’ Dom says.

‘So how long have you lived here?’ I ask, changing the topic.

‘I’ve owned the property for eight years, but up until a couple of years ago I’d probably only spent a month here.

I was working overseas a lot.’

‘That must have been wonderful.’

‘To a point. I got tired of travelling, so two years ago I quit.’

‘Sculpting?’

‘Yeah, I was commissioning pieces for various galleries.’

‘Sounds glamorous.’

‘It wasn’t. I spent most of my time planning and juggling budgets instead of sculpting. So I packed up and came home. Now, it doesn’t matter whether people buy my work or not - I’m doing what I love. I decided I didn’t need the money that badly, or the aggravation. I have everything I need right here.’ He gestures to the spectacular view across the hills to the ocean. ‘I was always pissing off my agent because I wasn’t aligned with a particular school or movement, rarely attended openings and got sick of the critics.’

‘Because,’ says Gloria, ‘those who can’t, criticise.’

‘Exactly,’ Dom says with a shrug. ‘And I’m happy here.’

‘I can understand why,’ I say, peering out to where Bella and Sam are patting the horse through the fence. After waving to them, I turn to Dom and ask, ‘No horse flu here?’ Mother would be pleased with me.

‘Not likely,’ he says. ‘Disease wouldn’t dare present itself in the southern highlands.’

‘You were saying?’ Gloria asks him, giving me the eye.

He grins. ‘I like it here. I’m not saying that if a great offer came along I wouldn’t consider it, but I have a piece in an art gallery in Paris. That’s my claim to fame. I’m happy with that.’

‘And a gallery in Wollongong too, I hear,’ Gloria adds.

‘Yeah, the Gong has one of my sculptures.’

‘So, no desire to go back to the city?’ I say.

‘To live? Not at all. I have a much simpler life here, and I’m much calmer now that I’m running the show.’

‘And what show is that?’ Gloria asks.

‘Dabbling here and there. It keeps me off the streets and out of trouble. But enough about me, I want to hear all about my two favourite girls.’

‘Honey,’ says Gloria, ‘we’ve got more stories than could fill a book.’

‘New Idea, anyway,’ I say.

‘I’m sorry things are a bit of a mess for you,’ Dom says later when we’re sitting out on his verandah in the afternoon sunshine, enjoying a pinot gris from a local winery and some aged brie. ‘You deserve so much better. Max was obviously insane to leave you, Bella and Sam.’

‘Yeah, it’s tough, but in some ways I’m glad he left,’ I say, relaxing into a comfortable wingback rattan chair. The kids are off climbing mountains with Rusty and Gloria’s dozing in a hammock between two ancient gums. It’s all rather idyllic. If I get any more comfortable, I’ll fall asleep too.

Dom gives me an unconvinced look.

‘It’s true,’ I say. ‘The marriage wasn’t working - hadn’t been for a while. It was like a really worn pair of shoes that you know you have to get rid of, but I was scared to chuck them out and go barefoot. But when I did finally take them off and toss them out it was an absolute relief. Does that make sense?’

Dom smiles. ‘You’re happy walking barefoot and Max isn’t coming back?’

I nod and take a sip of wine.

‘But would you take him back?’

‘Of course not.’

‘That’s good to hear. So . . .’

‘So?’

‘What’s up with you and Rock Hardy?’

‘Why? Do you find the match so unbelievable?’

‘That he could be attracted to you? Absolutely not. You’re great, you know that. But do I think you could be with him long-term? Somehow, I can’t quite see it.’

‘Why?’ I say, punching him on the arm.

‘Because, he’s a baby.’

‘Oh, right. So it’s okay for men to cradle-snatch -’

‘Hey!’ He puts his hands up in defence. ‘All I’m saying is that surely whatshisname couldn’t satisfy you . . . intellectually?’

‘Because I’m so scholarly?’ Then I grin. ‘All right, I admit it was all a bit silly really . . .’

‘So, there’s nothing going on?’

‘No, of course not. The man wears shoe gloves, for God’s sake.’

I sip my drink and look around. Dom’s home is rustic country, not pretentious

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