Page 13

Amelia sat in the kitchen, staring at the beige wall as the muffled argument from the other room rumbled on. She could make out the rise and fall of voices—Tara’s sharp, clipped tone, and the stranger’s low, biting retorts—but not the words themselves. It didn’t matter. She’d heard enough.

Tara was like that.

It wasn’t that Amelia minded, as such. Though, admittedly, she hadn’t had any firsthand experience with it. Relationships on the island followed a familiar script. Men and women paired up young, started families, and stayed in them.

Unless something happened to force them out, that was.

But anyway, Tara was a mainlander, so she was… what was the word for it? Amelia had never needed it before. Except once. When she was about nine.

‘Can I marry my friend Annie?’ she’d asked her mother.

Her mother had looked at her with alarmed eyes and said, ‘No, you cannot.’

‘Why not?’ Amelia asked.

‘Because we don’t do that,’ her mother said shortly.

‘Why not?’ Amelia had repeated.

‘It’s a mainlander thing,’ her mother said, flustered.

Amelia was old enough to know that was a pejorative. She didn’t bring it up again.

But Tara was a mainlander and, therefore, could do that. And had. It sort of made sense. Tara wasn’t like anyone Amelia had ever known. Of course she didn’t do anything expected.

Amelia fiddled with the hem of her cardigan, the urge to shrink away from the uncomfortable idea pulling at her. What did it matter to her anyway? Tara’s love life was none of her business.

The argument in the other room ended abruptly, punctuated by the slam of the front door. Amelia jumped slightly.

A moment later, Tara strode into the room, her face set in a tight, unreadable mask. She looked at Amelia for a beat, then crossed to the sink and filled the kettle without a word.

Amelia watched her cautiously, unsure of what to say. The silence stretched between them until Tara finally broke it.

‘Sorry about that,’ she said gruffly, not looking up.

‘It’s fine,’ Amelia said quickly, though her voice was a little too bright, a little too loud. ‘None of my business.’

Tara glanced at her sharply, her eyes narrowing as though she was trying to gauge something.

‘I mean,’ she added, floundering slightly, ‘everyone argues sometimes. Not that I was listening! Well, I mean, I couldn’t not hear... but I didn’t, you know, listen.’

Tara raised an eyebrow.

Amelia’s cheeks flamed. ‘I just... didn’t want you to think I was prying.’

‘I don’t,’ Tara said, turning back to the kettle as it began to boil. Her tone softened slightly. ‘It’s complicated.’

Amelia hesitated, then nodded. ‘Things usually are,’ she said.

She wasn’t sure what she meant by that but just wanted to say something agreeable.

Tara made two teas, her movements deliberate and methodical, as though she were trying to pour her focus into the act. When she finally sat down across from Amelia, her expression had softened just a fraction.

‘I’m sorry she smacked the food out of your hand,’ Tara said quietly. ‘That wasn’t right.’

Amelia smiled. ‘I was finished anyway.’

Tara gave her a small, tired smile, and for a moment, the sharp edges of her demeanour seemed to melt away. It was a glimpse of something softer, something vulnerable, and it left Amelia feeling unsettled in a way she couldn’t quite name.

They fell into a comfortable silence as they drank their teas. But after a moment, Tara’s gaze turned more thoughtful, her eyes flicking over Amelia in a way that made her heart beat just a little faster.

‘So you just got a glimpse of my pathetic personal life,’ Tara said, her tone light. ‘So, what’s your situation? Is there anyone waiting for you back home?’

Amelia stiffened slightly, caught off guard by the question. She’d been expecting the small talk to continue, not something personal, something that made her throat tighten.

‘I... I’m a widow,’ Amelia said quietly, looking down at her tea.

Tara’s expression softened immediately, and she put down her mug. ‘I’m sorry.’

Amelia shrugged, not looking up. ‘It was a long time ago now.’ She paused, then met Tara’s eyes, her voice a little steadier.

‘But you’re still young.’

‘I’m thirty-five!’ Amelia exclaimed.

Tara nodded. ‘Yes, but… I don’t know. I guess people I know tend to get married around the age you are now. But Solhaven residents probably get started much younger?’

‘I was married at nineteen,’ Amelia told her. She realised something. ‘If people here get married around my age, why aren’t you? I mean you look…’

‘I’m thirty-eight,’ Tara said with a smile. ‘And I’m not the marrying kind.’

‘Because two women can’t?’ Amelia asked nervously.

Tara laughed. ‘Lesbians can. I’m just not personally cut out for it.’

Questions piled up in Amelia, but she knew enough to know that she wasn’t supposed to ask. So she drank her tea.

After about a minute of silent beverage consumption, Amelia decided she couldn’t take the silence.

‘So,’ Amelia said, in a high, chipper tone, ‘what shall we do now?’

Tara’s smile widened just a little, and she leaned back in her chair, cradling her mug. ‘Now I find your contact.’

‘I told you; I don’t know any more details.’

‘I know. But there’s a more indirect way to the right person.’

‘What?’

‘I ring the wrong people until I find the right one,’ Tara said, taking a sip.

‘Ring?’ Amelia repeated.

Tara pulled out the smartphone. ‘Call them. You know phones, right?’

‘I thought they had lines… Wires?’

‘They did,’ Tara nodded. ‘They haven’t for a bit, though.’

‘So you just talk to people on that?’ Amelia checked. ‘And it just knows who to connect to?’

‘If I had a name, yes. But since we don’t, that’ll probably take a while. I’m going to have to annoy a lot of people. But I’ll get there in the end.’

Amelia couldn’t help but laugh. ‘I’m so lucky I bumped into you,’ she said gratefully.

She didn’t know what she would have done if Tara hadn’t helped her. She’d probably still be on that street.

‘Yeah,’ said Tara quietly. ‘Lucky.