CHAPTER TWELVE
TUESDAY 4TH APRIL 2017 – FERNLEY COTTAGE
She was drawn into the desolation. The felled ironbark. The black stubble. The sanguine sap. She thought about adding new growth. Perhaps a touch of green about the stump base. But she couldn’t bring herself to put it there. Besides, some scenes were best left to express themselves uninhibited by the artist’s manipulations. The work would sell, she was sure of it. She would take it to the Aussie bistro in the morning.
She thrust her hands in her trouser pockets. Twilight, and outside all was still. She looked out at the silent scene, trees dark presences, the sky a pale glow. A shadow swept behind the wood shed and into a nearby tree. She thought it might be an owl.
She knew she should eat be she wasn’t hungry. Listless, she left
