Somehow, she had to gain control of her emotions. Crying in front of Ben, telling him to get out when a calm response would have been just as effective, all of this was born from the stress since arriving back in Australia. But she hated it. Dad wouldn’t being found any faster if his daughter melted down.
Once she’d come to that conclusion, Ellie began to cook.
From the back of a cupboard she dug out her pasta maker. A mound of flour on the counter, eggs, knead. Through the machine until she had a pleasing row of linguine hanging over a makeshift rail of chopsticks between two tall jars. She washed a bunch of sage and put half a block of butter aside. Might as well make a decent sauce.
The intercom interrupted her process and once she finished talking to Paul, she returned to the kitche
