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demands.
She is certain her strategy will dampen the romance, drain some colour from the rose-tinted glasses he’s wearing.
His fantasy will become more like a waking nightmare.
    No doubt the next rush of biting emails from him will hurt.
    Julian’s email reads:
    Hi Christine
    I’m in Sydney and am likely to remain in the country for the next six weeks or more. One of the big publishers is doing a new series of books on the Antipodes. I’m working on rural and outback Australia, its past, culture and the present. I will be in Melbourne at some stage to meet up with some rookies and assist them with their projects on major cities. It would be great to catch up with you. I will be in touch just before I reach Melbourne. Please let me know about your movements so we can arrange to meet up.
    Christine shrinks at the thought; she can’t face Julian not now, the questions, retelling and reliving all that has happened over these past days. She doesn’t want to burden him, or worse, for him to think that she is some helpless and hopeless creature.
Julian cannot under any circumstances becomeinvolved in this. This is something I must face alone. And there’s no need to contact Diana now or announce to friends and colleagues that Richard has thrown me out of his life.
    She phones the hospital. Jessica, one of the ward nurses, answers. ‘I thought you weren’t going to be home until Sunday.’
    ‘Change of plans. Is Kim working this shift?’
    ‘Yes, but she’s on a break.’
    ‘Please leave a message for her to return my call.’
    Christine knows if she is going to pack herself out of Richard’s life and their house she cannot delay another minute. She sweeps through the house, room by room, rakes through the things that once defined them as a couple. She removes personal effects: books, music, cut glass vases and collectable porcelain plates and figurines, decorative candelabras and the sound system. She arranges these into a corner of the living room.
    She moves to the kitchen and takes the best dinner sets, glassware and silver. In the upstairs study she clears away her personal items. She leaves behind the valuable antiques Richard has collected and those given to them by his parents. Christine disdained these items, their aged appearance unsettled her. He told her that she lacked aesthetic values and the appreciation of fine historic things. He often claimed she was a philistine.
    The phone rings; it’s Kim. Christine informs her that she agrees to take on the role of Charge Nurse. Kim asks if Christine can begin before Monday. She explains that this is impossible and fills Kim in with the barest of details. Kim expresses sympathy followed by silence.
    ‘Are you sure you are able to begin work on Monday?’
    ‘The Emergency Ward is the kind of distraction I need right now.’
    ‘I’m sorry – no – shocked. Richard struck me as being the perfect gentleman. I never would have thought.’
    ‘He’s good at impressions.’
    ‘And all this time you said nothing.’
    ‘What was there to say?’
    Christine had been painfully aware that sick people, their desperate situations and the trials their families were often forced to face made her personal circumstance seem trite. People were rushed into Emergency unconscious, bleeding and broken; this has always served well as a reality check for her. Now that Richard has thrown her out of his life and the privileged existence she had been accustomed to, she is not so sure.
    The awkward silence is again broken, ‘Are you okay? What are you going to do?’
    ‘I’m in the process of packing myself out of our house.’
    ‘Do you have anywhere to go?’
    ‘No.’ Christine hesitates. ‘I want to ask you a favour. Can you check if a hospital apartment is available? I realise they are usually reserved for interns and resident doctors.’
    ‘I can find out. I’m sure that given your situation the hospital can come to some arrangement.’
    Christine adds the wingbacks,