Bagpipes invade the daybreak quiet, luring her across the road to the beach. A biting wind cuts through her puffer vest and numbs her face. Steam escapes from her mouth with every exhale. Isla passes through the beach car park. Cars and vans are clustered together, windows covered in aluminium foil, sunshades, or curtains. There's safety here in numbers, but she doesn't envy them sleeping in a vehicle in the cold. The barbecues, toilets, and drinking fountains at the park offer some basic facilities for people who are homeless during the housing crisis. How long though until the council decides they must be moved on instead of addressing the need? 

 

Down on the beach, foam-capped waves assault the shore, dumping piles of seaweed in their wake. The seaweed forms towering mounds on the sand. Her nose wrinkles at the overwhelming rotten egg smell.

The tune of Amazing Grace emanates from bagpipes somewhere up in the sand dunes. She follows the sound. It's coming from the top of the exercise tower – a series of wooden stairs and platforms meant to replicate Jacob's Ladder in the city. It is now the domain of fitness disciples and energetic children, or those willing to make a slow and steady climb for the panoramic 180-degree view of the ocean and Rottnest Island it offers on a sunny day.

 

She's been training for this moment since last year. A deep breath in, and up the stairs she goes. Jogging. Step after step. Reach the platform, then power up the next set. The burn starts halfway up the tower. Calf, thigh, and butt muscles tighten. Breath is laboured. She greedily sucks at the air. It chills her lungs. She sneaks a glimpse at the peak but doesn't see him. Still, she presses on. She's breathing hard now. Lactic acid creeps into her muscles. Legs slow in rebellion. The music is fading the closer she gets to the top. Notes fleeing from her approach. 

 

Isla reaches the summit and frantically scans the park, beach path, and car park below. Where did he go? It seems he has disappeared. She looks again. A flash of tartan scarf amidst the cars catches her eye. He's running away. Bastard.

 

Every year, her father plays her mother's farewell song. He never stays to confront a daughter's accusations or to acknowledge his guilt. 

 

#

 

 

A 100-word version of this story was published on the ‘Love to Read Local' website in 2023.

Rights have reverted to the author, Susan Braghieri.

 

 

Susan is a West Australian writer of fiction, non-fiction, and the occasional play. Her writing often explores family relationships and themes of grief, loss and trauma. Susan's writing is published in anthologies and journals including Night Parrot Press's Three Can Keep a Secret (2022), and Play, Spineless Wonders (2023). Her story ‘Sweet and Sour' was published in the Raine Square Short Edition for International Women's Day 2025.