Free Something Quite Beautiful by Amanda Prowse

close, the way a boy might hold his mum. Zac placed the rucksack on his back and stepped over the threshold, into the light.

5
    Matthew Shackleton flicked the switch on the coffee machine and buffed his spectacles with the soft cloth from inside his glass case. Perching them on the end of his nose, he began to sort through the mail.
    The colourful edge of the postcard peeked out from beneath the stack of manila envelopes. It was a bustling market scene in Kerala. He pulled the image closer to his face to decipher the tiny script at the bottom right hand corner, India, fancy that. It was from someone called Zac, Zac Porter.
    ‘Good morning, Matthew.’
    ‘Good morning, Edwina. It’s going to be a hot one today.’ He fanned himself and pumped the cotton of his shirt to circulate the air.
    ‘Yes. Better make sure the watering is heavy, I’d go large on the sprinklers. ’
    ‘I’m on it, don’t worry, are you worried about the fruit trees?’
    ‘And the bougainvillea. We can try out our new tubing system, if we’ve done it right, it should irrigate them just so, but you can’t be too careful when it’s this hot. I think early evening might be a good time, we don’t want to scorch those leaves.’
    ‘Ooh no, heaven forbid. Let’s start at dusk, we need to tidy a couple of the beds and I think a few slug pellets wouldn’t go amiss.’
    ‘Good idea. I need to give the roses a bit of attention too; there were a couple of aphid eggs on my Champagne Summer variety.’
    ‘The little rotters.’
    ‘My thoughts entirely.’ She smiled at him.
    ‘I was wondering,’ he coughed, ‘I was wondering...’
    ‘Yes, Matthew?’ she urged. There were three new inmates to be inducted, a busy day like any other and she wasn’t big on patience.
    ‘I was thinking that maybe you might like to join me for some supper when we’ve finished. My little salad garden is doing very well; I’ve got baby spuds, radishes and whatnot. There’s nothing quite like home grown with a decent steak and a large glass of red, sitting in the garden on a warm evening. Plus I’m a bit stuck with the crossword and you know what they say, two heads and all that...’ He looked at the stack of mail on his desk, avoiding her stare. He felt the creep of an awkward blush work its way up from his neck.
    Edwina was stunned into silence. She pictured Alan. It wasn’t a memory, but was a new image. He was mouthing words to her, smiling . I want you to be happy; I want someone to welcome you home. You have to carry on, no matter how hard or how hurt or how much you long to disappear. You have to carry on, because life is precious...
    She took a deep breath. ‘No.’ She shook her head.
    Matthew looked mortified. ‘Oh! Of course not! I’m so sorry, I just thought...’
    She interrupted him, ‘I mean no to the crossword—can’t stand them. I think it’s a slippery slope, one minute you are doing the crossword and the next you’re reaching for a tapestry kit and after that it’s surgical stockings, vitamin tonics and The People’s Friend . I mean, yes, yes to dinner, absolutely, that would be lovely. But definitely no crosswords. Shall I bring Backgammon?’
    ‘Backgammon?’
    ‘Yes. I’m a fiend; some would say the queen of Backgammon, virtually unbeatable.’
    ‘Well, we shall see about that.’ He smiled.
    ‘Yes we will,’ she countered as she walked towards her office.
    ‘By the way, before you rush off, you have a postcard.’
    Edwina turned and reached out her hand, striding towards his desk, grasping the offering with eager fingers. She studied first the picture and then the text, scrawled by a biro on the other side. Turning it over twice more, she scrutinised the picture and then the words again.
    ‘Well well, Kerala. How wonderful.’ She beamed at Matthew who smiled back; he loved to see her this happy.
    ‘Is it from a friend of yours?’
    ‘Yes.’ She nodded and strode towards her corkboard, in search of a pin.
    If you