48Wollongong 2002
Jenny found the next two days some of the loneliest she could remember. Although only the two of them lived in the house at Kiama, it always seemed to be full of sound: the radio, the bubbling of the boiling kettle, the snip and slip of metal on metal of the shears, the bursts of conversation, James’s voice… She wandered the house, going from room to room, not knowing what do to or where to settle. She crept along the hallway, staring with reddened, wet eyes, at the family photographs she had arranged on the walls: the graduation photos for each of her children; a family snap on Kiama beach, James sporting a red-and-white-striped, terry-towelling hat and bright red trunks, a glistening coat of coconut oil on his lean body, the sunburn he used to acquire at the start of e
