It was ten that evening before I reached Fred.
I first tried his number that afternoon, the moment I entered the hotel. There was no one about and the bar was empty, but not closed. I took the liberty of going behind the counter to make the call. The number rang out, so I went upstairs.
All was quiet in the adjoining room. I settled on my bed with Frangipani Gardens, determined to finish it. The hours slipped by and when I turned the last page, the sun was setting and things were stirring again next door.
Looking forward to moving from Adelaide to rural New South Wales, I put away the Barbara Hanrahan and took out of my bag the Miles Franklin. My Brilliant Career was a novel I should have read long ago but hadn’t. In my youth, I’d been put off by the depressing sounding ending, but then
