She hadn’t anticipated this, to be crossing to Hibernia again so soon; her third trip in only two months. Audrey could barely identify with the self who thought she was leaving Melbourne and this island behind to start a new life.
There were no pangs of regret. She loved London but taking up the position at the gallery had been a self-enforced move, calculated to further a career she didn’t think she wanted anymore. Now, as she stood with Max on the deck of the ferry, the strong wind buffeting their hair and carrying their words away, she felt something akin to excitement—for what, she still didn’t know.
Isabel, anxious that her own light frame might be lifted in a gust of wind from the deck, was going through her mother’s handwritten recipes in the car. She hadn’t looked at them in year
