Prologue
“I had all and then most of you
some and now none of you.”
Lord Huron
Bathurst - 2023
It was almost that time of the week that Alison hated. It was a terrible rut she had fallen into; hating Friday afternoons. 5pm on a Friday was supposed to be the time of the week that everyone worked towards. The time when they could forget the drudgery of their working life and relax for a couple of days.
But now, every Friday evening, Alison had an unpleasant ritual to perform. After she left work, she would drive home or to her husband’s house and go through the charade of civility as they exchanged custody of their children.
They didn’t hate each other; far from it. But they were separated because they had fallen out of love. The children were the only reason they still spoke, and that was the reason Alison had come to loath Friday afternoons. She had to talk to Henry, for the children’s sake, but every time she did, it was a reminder that she had failed and failure never sat well with Alison.
She had been so good at everything else in life. Her career, adventures, raising children all had been successful in her opinion. All except for this one thing. She didn’t love her husband anymore, and he didn’t love her. Her marriage failed.
So Fridays were now the anchor around which her life was now moored. For the sake of the children, she would go through the motions of polite conversation with Henry while they exchanged children for the week. He was supposed to be out of her life, but her Friday routine made her feel like she would never get to move on. Until she could move on from Henry, her life wasn’t perfect. And if it wasn’t perfect, then it was broken.
She prepared to lock up the office and head to Henry’s house when her office manager, Sarah, pulled her aside. Sarah loved a chat, but she knew Alison had to get out the door on time every Friday afternoon.
“Have a great weekend,” Sarah said. “Oh, I almost forgot. A letter came for you.”
“Who from?” Alison asked. “Was it the insurance company? That bill is due soon.”
“No, it wasn’t a bill. It was a letter-letter!”
“A letter-letter? Who sends letters anymore?” Alison replied absently.
“I don’t know. And who would send a letter to your workplace? Letters usually go to a home address.”
That was right. People didn’t send letters anymore, and they didn’t send them to your office. Alison was suddenly intrigued. “Where is it?”
“Over here,” Sarah said, reaching over the reception counter. Sarah held the letter up and examined it. “Maybe it’s a love letter,” she teased.
“Don’t be stupid,” Alison retorted. Alison hadn’t had a love letter in over twenty years. She knew she had a pile of them in a box somewhere. Perhaps it was time she threw them out before her children found them.
Sarah flipped the envelope to its back and read. “Who is ‘C. Holland’?”
“I don’t know. A travel agent? Give it here!”
“C. Holland from Canberra?”
“A politician then.” Alison said, snatching the letter from Sarah’s hand.
“Well, enjoy reading your not love letter from C. Holland from Canberra.”
“I …” Alison was about to say, “I doubt it” when she stopped. Flipping the letter over, she read the name three times before she looked back at a silent Sarah. Looked back at Sarah and smiled.
