24The white-blonde woman standing at the corner of Bundeena’s two main streets tapped her foot impatiently, puffing in exasperation and nervousness at a stray lock of hair across her face. Her cargo pants, low and baggy, hid all but the pink-polished nails of her toes as they beat a frantic pattern on the tarred path.
‘I’m sure this is the right corner.’ She glared at her watch for the tenth time in as many seconds. ‘Definitely the right time. Where. Are. They?’ Each word hissed from between pearly white grinding teeth.
Bridget had just come off the ferry, happy and excited that Sunday had arrived at last and promised to be a beautiful, sunshiney day. She loved coming to Bundeena, the pace of life here suited her right down to the ground. She even thought she could handle the ferry ride
