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Who is she grateful for? Lily, of course…   1. Lily.  Josh could’ve chosen someone less agreeable. Jen doesn’t write that. It’s not what she means and not nice to Lily who is marvellous. 2. Dr McGuire. She has to give it him. He’s wonderful with the elderly, being almost elderly himself. And he lets her run the reception and the books the way she wants to. 3. Ally. Her dear sister, so much bravado. So supportive. Jen flushes with goodwill. 4. Mum. How can one not be grateful for one’s mother?  Delivering Joshua is the hardest thing Jen has done, but Bradley was there, holding her hand and offering his smallRead More →

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By Gabrielle Blondell Gil padded across the thick grass of the quad, past students sprawled under trees, reading, chatting, smoking, sleeping. No one noted his passing. He was already a ghost. He stopped in the middle of the stone path. The clock tower rose above him against a big ‘ sky. Birds swirled above it, so frank in their freedom, so very sure of their position against that impossible blue. ‘Gil, old man! I’ve been looking for you.’ William Bright strode toward him. Gil didn’t want to like his friend today. He started off again toward the archway leading to his office. William fell intoRead More →

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By Gabrielle Blondell “John.” He made my name a statement, nothing more. “Pete.” I said. He shut the passenger door and sat stiffly, staring along the road leading out of Cunungra barracks. I reached toward the GPS, selected Dangarsleigh Road, Armidale, and pressed START. “Four hundred and forty-one kilometres to go,” I said. Pete was a distant cousin, so distant, I wasn’t sure how we were related except that my Aunt Jas on my mother’s side was involved. It was she who suggested Pete and I share the expense of a trip to her daughter’s wedding. “So….” I said, pulling out onto the main road.Read More →

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By Gabrielle Blondell ‘I think you would be perfect for the television, Uncle Merv. I could help, if Maisie doesn’t want to do it.’ I was already pretty sure Maisie would say no. Ever since the twins, my cousin worried that her arse was too big and, in my opinion, she was right to. Plus, Mum said it was unseemly at her age to squeeze herself into her little satin costume and flounce about on stage. But I could tell my uncle was still unsure. He was standing by the kitchen door, not propped against the wall or anything, just standing, his arms hanging byRead More →

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By Gabrielle Blondell Anna Florin nodded her satisfaction as each guest took their seat. She had gathered the most interesting of people, the artist, the neurosurgeon, the novelist, the musician, a collection who needed to seem as if money didn’t matter by giving it away. She smiled at them in turn for she was the socialite, the person bred to gather such people and nudge them toward each other so they may learn the significance of other people’s lives. In her fashion, she continued her visual reconnoitre of the table until she came to the empty seat beside her daughter.   Anna raised an eyebrow atRead More →

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by Gabrielle Blondell He tried not to think on what was coming and put his mind to about other things. Julianna mostly. Her fine shoulders, the way they dipped midway and rose again to meet the joint of her arm. He had rested his own arm there when they rode the ferry to the mouth of the Brisbane River last September. They had lived there together in Brisbane’s thickened air until she was seconded to London. These days it was just him in the little old weatherboard with its long slim back garden. It was he alone, who sat on the back porch watching theRead More →

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By Gabrielle Blondell “She’s dead, Matty. She is dead….and flat.” Daryl says this as if it might be the eighth wonder of the world. “Are you sure?” I ask.  I’m hoping he has got it wrong and the cat’s just in shock. “No I don’t think so. Come and take a look.” “Nah,” I say. I’m squeamish. “What colour is it?” I ask. I see Daryl bend closer to the road. “It’s hard to know really. It’s a kind of black with some white, when you look through all the blood and stuff.” Darryl is teasing me now. He knows about my squeamishness. “Is itRead More →

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Photo by Marten Bjork on Unsplash By Gabrielle Blondell It crept out of my mouth before I’d thought to reel it back in. I was like that back then. I’d say anything if it sounded right, if the rhythm was right, you know. Like a pop-song lyric. It didn’t need to make sense. And I saw the blood drain from Phil’s face and then rise again, dark red. ‘I don’t give a flying fuck what your mother used to say.’  His hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel. The weird thing was I didn’t either. I hadn’t listened to my mother in years. This oneRead More →

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By Gabrielle Blondell Photo by Mads Schmidt Rasmussen on Unsplash Harriet is rushing through the smoky streets toward the pub. ‘You’ll love him, Harry! You will,’ Sylvie had said that morning. Standing beside the smudge of red which is the DON’T WALK sign on the corner, Harriet is hoping Giles isn’t too inquisitive, not too much of a talker. Sex is a better icebreaker, she thinks. Doesn’t require a personality. A woman huddled at the 114 bus-stop coughs, a deep rasping sound, and Harriet feels her own throat tighten. Perhaps she should buy some of those surgical masks people seem to be getting around in.Read More →

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by Gabrielle Blondell Please Mum, I know you’re busy, but I want you to meet my fiancé. The Crab House, 7:30pm. Joanna Elise stared at her phone, eyeing it warily and waiting, as if something else might issue from it. Her personal assistant strode into the room, cradling the day’s agenda. “The presentation starts in two minutes,” Bronwyn said. Bronwyn was like herself. She didn’t round things up or down. She was precise. Two minutes was two minutes. Elise slipped her phone into her pocket. “Right then, let’s go.” ~ Michael Bruin was deconstructing the team’s ad campaign with the aid of his laser pointerRead More →