I woke early the next morning and lay listening to the birdsong. I thought about Sid coming, and found I was glad. He could make what he wanted of me, my friends, Kununurra, and the Kimberley. I longed to see him, Celine, and the baby, regardless of the pretext on which they were coming. I didn’t want to be looked after and protected, especially by my son, but I would tolerate his concern.
I decided I didn’t want to write an analysis of Walt Ross’s attitudes and policies. Instead, I would write a profile of the town in all its diversity and strange natural beauty. The thought excited me. Our book was finished. We only needed to fit our selected photographs and completed text into a zip file and send it with instructions to the publisher. Simon could do that.
I jumped out of bed, showered
