Odd One Out (13 page)

And Nick? Once, they would have laughed about it all together. She’d have had his support, his listening ear. It would have been the two of them united, his wit and humor helping her cope with anything life threw at her. But now?

Her head started to throb again, just above her left ear. The headaches had started five months ago. She’d waged a quiet war against them since then. Her doctor in Port Augusta had sent her for different tests, even a brain scan. She’d been given the all clear, but the headaches had continued. Since then, she’d tried medication, massage, acupuncture, to no avail. She’d talk to her doctor about it again in the new year. There was too much else happening now. Not just the twins coming home, Aunt Celia’s arrival, Christmas to organize. The Gillespies were also this year’s hosts of the mid-December woolshed party. The station families took turns hosting an annual gathering, and it was the Gillespies’ turn again. Angela had been planning it for weeks. Their freezer was already full of party food, and there was a delivery due the next day of all the rented tables, chairs, glasses and crockery.

No, there definitely wasn’t time now to worry about a headache. It would have to wait until January. Perhaps she could combine a visit to the specialist in Adelaide with a shopping trip. She could even treat herself to a nice solo lunch afterward in one of the restaurants near the river. She could sit there with a book and a glass of wine, take as long as she liked. Perhaps she could even stay the night in Adelaide before the four-hour journey home again. Yes, that’s exactly what she’d do. Have some peace and quiet. What did they call it in the magazines? Having “me time”?

But not tonight. There was no time for any of that tonight. She had a Christmas letter to write and send. She turned back to the computer, fighting that overwhelmed feeling again. She thought back over all that had happened to her family during the past twelve months, wondering how on earth she could turn it all into one of her cheery Christmas letters. Joan’s voice suddenly came to her mind, as if she were standing there beside her.

Go for it, love! Let it rip! Tell the truth! It’s good for you.

She actually laughed out loud. Tell the truth? How could she?

Go for it, love! It’s good for you.

Angela stared at the screen for a long moment. Then she started a new letter, typing faster than she’d ever typed before.

International bestselling writer
Monica McInerney
is the award-winning author of ten previous novels, one short-story collection, and numerous stories and articles. She grew up in Australia, is one of seven children, and has split her time between Australia and Ireland for twenty years. Monica and her Irish husband currently live in Dublin, Ireland.

CONNECT ONLINE

MonicaMcInerney.com

Facebook.com/monicamcinerneyauthor