Chapter 32
Sunday morning, first day of November. Spring sauntered towards summer, but it was still cold this early at Currawong, lying as it did in the shadow of the Bunya range. Early sunbeams streamed in the window, bathing the room in a cool, golden glow. Clare stretched, then snuggled back beneath the blankets
Tom’s silly secret knock came at the door, and he slipped in. He wore satin boxers sporting a serpent design, and carried a plate of mangos, sliced checkerboard fashion, and a damp facecloth. He sat on her bed and they feasted on the luscious fruit in silence, exchanging glances. Juice ran down her chin. Occasionally he stroked her face and décolletage with firm sweeps of the washer, lingering on the swell of her breasts. He kissed her mouth, tasting of sweetness and sun and s
