She keeps meaning to get the bus into town, to stock up on groceries, look in the small ads for a job: something easy, temporary, to tide her over while she considers her next move. Then she forgets what it was she was going to do, and only remembers too late. Time flows away from her. Mostly, she’s been buying what food she needs from the petrol station. On her last visit, instead of the usual butterfly nets and straw hats hanging from the awning, she saw that the proprietor had lined up a row of wellington boots on the forecourt, from large to small, from black to green to rainbow-coloured. The only pair in her size were duck-egg blue. She tried them on, retreating a few steps to see how she looked in the reflection of the glass frontage: like a gigantic toddler, she thought. She was bending over, tucking her jeans in, so didn’t notice the woman approach until she felt a breath on her neck. Is that Nell’s girl? asked the woman, catching Maggie’s upper arm in a pinch. The tiny painted face poking out of the plastic rain hat broke into a neat smile.
