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some real Italian brew.’
    ‘That’s so nice. Thank you.’
    ‘What’s with the make-up?’
    ‘Just an experiment.’
    As people filed in, Dee tried to find a mental hidey-hole for her tension.
    ‘Hey, Gill, how was your New Year?’
    ‘I’m Dee. Let me know if you have any questions during the class.’
    ‘Penny, good to see you.’
    Penny’s face lit up with eagerness. She was still in the throes of a teacher crush. Lots of new students got it, looked all doe-eyed and hung off every word as though any minute they’d hear the meaning of life. It would pass. Penny would figure out soon enough Dee wasn’t a sage. She was just doing her best like everyone else. More anxious than most, which according to the psychologists was normal if you’d watched a truck drive through your windscreen. But she worked hard, paid bills, ate too much chocolate, hoped for love, worried about her weight (keeping it on, not taking it off – she looked like a stick insect when it dropped too low). She didn’t know the meaning of life. She only knew that if you did yoga, worked on the postures and meditated, you found your own interpretation.
    ‘Penny, do you think you could make some room for others in the front row?’
    Dee turned back to the queue of students and found a warm smile for the man in front of her. ‘Nice to see you again, Tom.’
    He was sweet, serious, uncomplicated and the kind of guy she wanted to fall for. He was the dead-spit of a Hollywood Jesus – soft girlie hair, piercing blue eyes, gentle face – and a genuine, environmentally responsible, hemp-bag-carrying hippie. They’d had coffee a couple of times before Christmas, which was the closest she’d come to a date in about a year. There wereno sparks flying but who said these things couldn’t grow on you?
    ‘Maybe we can catch up later?’ she said.
    ‘Love to,’ he said with a Hollywood flash of his teeth.
    Still no sparks but nice anyway.
    She turned back to the line of students. ‘Hey, Ros.’ She took her money and ticked off her name. ‘And how’s Emily doing?’
    ‘Not good. She was really well over Christmas and had a lovely time with the girls but she’s gone downhill since then.’
    Emily and Ros started class together five years ago when Emily was recovering from her first episode of breast cancer. It had returned twice since then and now there were tumours in her lungs and brain.
    Dee handed Ros her change. ‘Mike rang me yesterday to book some private lessons for her. He didn’t say much, just that she wasn’t up to coming to the school.’
    ‘She’s in a lot of pain. I think the meditation really helps.’
    Dee saw the sadness on Ros’s face and felt tears in her own eyes. ‘Say hi from me next time you see her. And the girls. I’m looking forward to seeing them again.’
    Dee signed in the last two students, took a minute to gather herself. She counted the students waiting quietly on their mats. Better than she’d expected but still not enough to pay the electricity bill. She shook her head. Now was not the time to be thinking about money.
    A noise made her turn. A late student. A new, late student. Nice. The girl breezed in, a cloud of curly blonde hair and perfume Dee could smell from across the room.
    ‘Hi, am I late? Oops.’ Her hand flew to her mouth as she realised her enthusiastic volume had broken the quiet of the room.
    ‘It’s fine. We haven’t started yet,’ Dee said softly, hoping her hushed tone would encourage the girl to stop bustling about with the shopping bags she was stacking noisily against a wall.
    ‘Oh, great,’ she said, not taking the hint. ‘This is my first time. Not my first yoga class, just my first time here. I was teaching down in Melbourne before I left. You’re Dee, aren’t you?’
    Dee raised her eyebrows. ‘Yes.’
    ‘I knew you were. Leon told me all about you. You’re the best teacher in Sydney, apparently, so I had to come to your class.’ She paid her money, continued