rry wouldn’t be where he was today if my father hadn’t given him such a good incentive to win in the early days. My dad thinks it’s funny. Isn’t that sick? My family is so sick.”
“Yes,” said Joy. “It’s awful. Tennis parents can be … awful.”
“Anyway, so I wanted to tell you I’m going away,” said Savannah.
She’d changed tone again. Brusque.
“I’ve actually signed up for one of Harry’s cancer charity things. It’s stupid, I know, it’s not like that will change anything, but I wanted to do something. For him. To atone. When I feel bad I like to … take action.”
“Sure,” said Joy. “I understand.” She kind of understood. She wasn’t one to wallow.
“It starts tonight. It’s called the 21-Day Off-Grid Challenge to End Childhood Cancer. You stay in these tiny solar-powered cabins in the middle of nowhere without phones or Wi-Fi. You don’t even get the address of where you’re staying until the day you leave. I thought, well, it’s not just supporting Harry’s charity, it might clear my mind. Like a … circuit breaker.”
“I don’t understand. How does doing this end childhood cancer?”
“Oh, well, it doesn’t, obviously. But you pay a fortune and a percentage goes to cancer research,” said Savannah. “People sponsor you. It’s for wealthy people. They post about it on Instagram.” She put on a posh accent. “I’m just so humbled to be able to do my bit for this impor-tant cause. You know the type. Obviously, I’m not wealthy, but I am very cashed up at the moment.” She paused. “Don’t ask.”
“I will not ask,” said Joy. “I hope you’re not going anywhere near the fires?”
“Opposite direction,” said Savannah. “It’s a five-hour drive. A place called Orroroo Gully. Orroroo means ‘wind through the trees,’ so that sounds nice, I guess? It’s got waterfalls and lakes and wildlife or whatever.”
“Oh, I think it sounds wonderful, Savannah,” said Joy.
“Yeah,” said Savannah. “Although … I don’t know. I’m having second thoughts. I might get lonely. I might lose my mind. I might seriously lose my mind.”
Joy put down the framed photo. She looked at the walls that trapped her and thought of waterfalls and lakes and wildlife.
“What if I came with you?”
“Yes,” said Savannah. “Yes, please, Joy.”
* * *
Once the decision was made, Joy was a whirl of nervous energy. She wanted to be gone before Stan came back. She wanted him to return to an empty house. She’d never made a decision this significant without first consulting Stan. It was exhilarating. It was terrifying. It would show him. It would show the children. Everyone would be very surprised. Her friends would be surprised too. It would be nice to be surprising for once.
This would be a circuit breaker. She was enamored of Savannah’s phrase and kept murmuring it as she got ready. This was exactly what she needed right now. For a circuit to be broken.
Stan would miss her. Or he wouldn’t miss her. If they didn’t miss each other, then the decision would be made.
She couldn’t find her phone, even though she’d just been talking on it. She couldn’t find her glasses, even though she’d been wearing them just minutes ago. She couldn’t find her wallet.
She found her phone. She texted the children without her glasses, the words blurry on the screen. Nobody texted or called straight back, as if the fact that their mother was going off-grid for three weeks was of little interest.
She found her wallet. She found her glasses. She dragged out an old promotional backpack from the bottom of the cupboard and shoved in casual clothes. Something warm for at night. Shorts and T-shirts, swimsuit and sneakers, underwear and PJs, a brand-new toothbrush still in its packaging. Savannah said they would swim and do bushwalks each day, rest and read. No need for fancy clothes. No need for much at all. It was about minimalism, apparently. It was about reconnecting with your true self. It was possibly a load of nonsense, but Joy could always come home early if she got bored.
She sat down and wrote Stan a letter.
Dear Stan,
I’m so sorry for saying those terrible things.
Delaneys would have been nothing without you. I ran the business but you were the business, Stan! You were “the talent.” Nobody could coach like you. Nobody could get the best out of a player like you. Even the hopeless ones. Especially the hopeless ones! You never gave a halfhearted lesson. (I did! I admit it!) I loved watching you coach even more than I loved watching you play. It was like seeing an artist at work. I probably never told you that before. I should have.
I’m sorry for what I did. I’m sorry for sending Harry away. I wanted our children to have the best coach in Australia and that was you. It was wrong for you but right for our children and I chose them. You were right when you said if I’d really wanted to make it with my own tennis I would have done it. But I was good enough, Stan. I was so. I know it. You know it too. I never regretted that decision, I think I just wanted it acknowledged, but, oh well, it doesn’t really matter now.
There is something important I need to say. It was hard to live like that, all those years, Stan, knowing that you could walk out the door at any moment.
Each time it happened it made my heart freeze a bit more until I thought it would freeze solid.