Chapter 3
Weekends without the children always seemed to last longer. Beth found herself slipping into a kind of slow motion. She rose late on Sunday morning. What a luxury, just suiting herself. Without the need to cook meals and ferry the children here and there, time held no sway over her. She took her breakfast out to the verandah and lazily planned her day.
The honey on Beth’s toast attracted a wasp. Her hand brushed against it as she reached for the second slice. Startled, she jumped to her feet and swatted at the insect. After several ineffective attempts to drive the intruder away, Beth conceded defeat and retreated inside. She checked the trap. A dozen dead wasps floated in the water. Now they were dead, she was pleased. Her ambivalence of the previous afternoon had evaporated.
