‘Sure. Standing on the table isn’t an option. It doesn’t look strong enough to hold my weight.’ Harie stepped away from the wall, her movements stirring the stifling heat of a boxed-in courtyard.
Morning pollution had cleared to reveal a summer sky shimmering with an intensity of colour rarely seen, but the afternoon sea breeze had yet to infiltrate the CBD, so they hurried to the park, keeping to the shady side of the street. One of the four benches remained vacant, most likely because a strip of sunlight seared a third of its length. Harie claimed the bench before anyone else arrived.
‘I have to call my son first,’ Emma said, dumping her bag on the seat. She lifted her right arm. ‘Call Jack.’
Hi, Mum, coping OK?’
‘Yes. I just want you to check whether we’ve got enough vegetables for
