Free Lessons From Ducks by Tammy Robinson

what happened last night heralds the beginning of dinner parties or BBQ’s or anything,” she warned it, “because it doesn’t. It was a one off. You’re stuck with just me for company again; deal with it.”
    As she got ready to leave she sensed a definite sulk in the air, and when she tried to open the back door she found it was stuck fast. Tugging failed to free it, so she was forced to put her handbag and the bag of bread down in order to brace a knee against the wall and pull with all her strength. This time the door flew open as easily as if it had never been stuck at all, and she fell backwards onto the kitchen tiles, landing heavily on her tailbone.
    “Ouch,” she said. For a minute all she could do was sit there awkwardly, unable to move or stand up until the pain lessened, and when it did she rolled over onto her hands and knees and pushed herself off the floor. Upright again, she leant against the bench top and rubbed the sore spot.
    “You did that on purpose,” she scowled. Of course, no one answered. But she did sense a slight feeling of chagrin in the air.
    “I should think so,” she scolded, leaving and slamming the door closed behind her. The moment the door clicked shut behind her was the same moment she realised her bag and keys were still on the other side of it.
    She groaned and checked her watch.
    Throwing the bread to the ducks and telling them they would just have to suffice with the bowl of dirty water today – “like I’ve told you a million times, it’s for drinking, not swimming” – she went around the side of the house where she knew she would be able to climb – awkwardly with a fresh back injury to contend with – up onto the top of the porch and with a little bit of elbow strength, jimmy the bathroom window open. After she’d done that it was simply a case of squeezing in over the windowsill – trying not to land a hand or a foot in the toilet – and voila, she was inside. Out of breath and aching, but inside. She scurried downstairs and back through the kitchen – pausing only to cast a dark look around the room – and this time, before she slammed the door shut, she made sure that she had everything she needed in hand first.
    There was no denying it; she was going to be late again. Judy would have a field day with her excuse – “ wait, you’re telling me that your house, got shitty, and locked you out??”
    Oh well. Anna figured she may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, so she stopped and closed her eyes and took several deep breaths until she felt her heart return to its normal rhythm, then she opened her eyes and smiled. She was going to enjoy every minute of her walk this morning.
     

Chapter eight
     
    Anna once owned a car, back when everything was different. Back then she barely walked further than the letterbox at the end of her driveway. But things had changed, and now she found her walks peaceful and therapeutic. She walked everywhere; work, the supermarket, doctors appointments. In fact, it was her doctor who made the suggestion she take up walking.
    “Anna,” he’d said in his office a couple of years previously, “I’m worried you’re not making the right choices when it comes to taking care of yourself. Obviously I can understand why,” he hurriedly added when he saw her face drop, “but as your doctor it’s my duty to try and help you. Are you still taking the medication?”
    She nodded.
    “And is it helping? With the thoughts, I mean.”
    She shrugged.
    “Well. We can’t expect miracles. These things do tend to take time. I know it’s a trite thing to say, but time really does heal. I promise.”
    ‘How much time exactly are we talking about here?” It was the first time she’d spoken since taking a seat in his office, and her voice was raspy and tortured and the sound of it made him wince. He wished most sincerely that he had an answer for her. But he didn’t.
    “Look, keep taking the pills. Call the number I gave you if you