In the morning Frankie crept out of her room with her swimsuit tucked under her arm. Bernadette was sleeping with her mouth slightly open, little gusts of air popping between her lips. In the living room Frankie pulled on her swimsuit and a pair of cut-offs. She ate a bowl of Rice Krispies, liberally sprinkled with sugar, then ran a brush through her hair, and rolled a towel and placed it on the table. She looked at the clock; it was quarter to nine. Robyn didn’t expect her until eleven. Frankie lay on the couch, her hands folded neatly across her chest. It was going to take a long time to get to eleven.
Frankie startled awake two hours later when Bernadette slammed the bathroom door. She grabbed her towel and raced to her bike. She pedalled furiously toward Lake Bonavista but then slowed
