Free A Handful of Pebbles by Sara Alexi

men her own age seem to be directionless; she had very little to say to them. The lack of anyone taking control of the business side of things had the project doomed from the start, and none of them were surprised when the co-op broke up with finger pointing and blame and the land was bought by developers.
    But she kept trying. The beekeeping night course mixed her in with a new set of people and for a while , it was something she looked forward to each week, but as the course neared its end, her fellow students began talking about what they would take next year: lace making, painting, learning Spanish, and the reality that she was finding substitutes for any real meaning in her life closed in on her and so she quit and became almost reclusive.
    ‘ Finding substitutes for any real meaning.’ She didn’t really even know what she meant by that. Life had no meaning and nothing she could do could give it meaning.
    The thought takes her right back to the party to celebrate the eighteenth of a friend of Torin’s. She and Liz had spent hours getting ready at Liz’s house. Torin was out taking his driving test and they could tell by the whoops and cheers he had passed.
    It was as if he had changed whilst taking his test from an awkward best-friend ’s-brother to Torin the man. Sarah was transfixed by the transformation as he admired her dress. At the party, he told her of his plans to move to Dublin, where there was more to life than there ever could be in county Clare, and it felt exciting. In that one evening, Torin brought relief from the thought there was no meaning, to a future full of possibilities. He entertained her, made her laugh, and turned life into an adventure. He said they would take bites out of living together.
    Then all too quickly , he was gone and without him, she was left without power and the questioning re-emerged.

    Sarah blinks against the sun at the sound of voices.
    ‘ Hey girls, have you had a good time? We walked all the way up the dry river bed to an ancient pile of stones. It didn’t have anything to tell you what it was, but it was clearly ancient.’ Neville wanders into the garden.
    ‘ It says here ...’ Laurence comes up behind him with a guide book Sarah saw on one of the shelves in the bedroom earlier. ‘That it is Mycenaean , so 1500 BC. Can you believe it? And what a relief from the usual oversell. There was not a plaque, not a tearoom, not a gift shop in sight.’
    ‘ Anyone getting hungry? Shall we go into Saros again?’ Neville asks.
    The thought is too much effort. It would be less exerting to cook.
    ‘Or I can do us omelettes.’ It is the easiest thing she can think of that Laurence will consider a proper meal.
    ‘ Oh, good idea,’ he says.
    ‘ Good for me.’ Liz pushes herself off from the end of the pool. She has left her empty glass on the side.
    ‘ Oh, you don’t want to leave that there.’ Neville strides over and picks it up.
    ‘ Laurence, why don’t you get Liz a top up and something for Neville?’ Sarah pulls her wrap around her and heads for the kitchen, marvelling at being outside in nothing but a bikini and a wrap at seven o’ clock at night and for it to still be warm. Laurence pours drinks and leaves one for Sarah on the side before returning outside.
    The place is well equipped and she wants for nothing. Nothing but eggs. She never did make it to the supermarket, but, she guesses, they are bound to sell them at the village shop. Undoing her sarong and crossing it to tie it at the back of her neck converts it into a presentable dress. Grabbing her bag , she hesitates at the gate. Perhaps she should tell them where she is going, but then, she’ll only be a minute or two.

Chapter 8

    Sarah walks slowly. Why not; it is her first holiday abroad in the sun since they got married. Somewhere, a dog is barking; another answers it and a chain of howls fades into the distance. In the garden next door but one, with the masses of flowers in pots, there is a lady