‘Trisha?’

‘Oh thank fucking Christ, babe. Thought I’d got the wrong number again. You know how many numbers you have to punch in when you’re calling another country? You’d think you were calling off bloody planet.’

Michaela looked up at the sky. A first, fat drop of rain fell, making a perfect round circle in the dirt at her feet. She kept her face towards the clouds.

‘Trisha?’

‘Yeah Michaela, you said that already.’ The voice on the other end of the telephone line softened. ‘How you doing, babe? It’s been a long time, yeah?’

Michaela closed her eyes. ‘I got your postcard today,’ she said.

Trisha’s voice brightened. ‘Yeah? Hey I only sent that a few weeks ago. Hope you didn’t take it seriously babe, I was only teasing, you know.’

So it had been the tourists. Michaela shook her head. Then realised of course that Trisha couldn’t see her. Probably just as well, Michaela thought, then cleared her throat.

‘I know. How’re you getting on?’ Why are you calling?

‘I’m not so bad, you know. Working in Mom’s diner, she and I are working it out. It’s okay.’ There was a pause. ‘How about you?’

The rain was falling faster now, the clouds fattening overhead, the dimes of rain darkening the ground. Michaela thought she should probably go inside.

‘Getting on,’ she replied, making no move back towards the house. Mack was standing by the truck looking at her. ‘The orchard’s a lot of work,’ she said. Lightening flashed away to the right, in the sky behind the kiwifruit vines.

‘What the fuck’s that noise?’ Trisha asked as the sky vibrated and cracked.

‘Thunder.’

‘You standing outside or something?’ Trisha asked. ‘Jeeze babe, you standing outside or something? Fuck me Freddy that was loud.’

The rain started in earnest now, falling out of the sky in great silver sheets. Mack whined and Michaela shook herself, ran back up the steps to the house, pushing the door back open, Mack twisting past her legs, almost tripping her.

She was wet, her hair plastered to her head. She took the phone with her to the bathroom and grabbed a towel.

‘You still there?’ she asked. ‘Storms come up pretty quick here, I was just on my way out to grab a bite, there’s nothing in the cupboards, I’ve been working all day, had a bitch of a day.’ She was babbling. Stopped and took a breath. ‘Trisha. Why are you calling?’

 There was silence on the phone and Michaela wondered if it had gotten wet, short circuited or something. She supposed she was lucky in that case not to have electrocuted herself.

‘Trisha?’

‘Yeah, I’m here. Listen,’ a moment’s silence again. ‘Listen, can you come over?’

Michaela put the towel down on the bench. ‘What?’ she said.

‘I need you to come over. Listen, Michaela, can you come over?’

Michaela leaned her elbows on the bench and bent over the phone as lightening flashed again. Mack whined. ‘Shush Mack,’ she said but the thunder drowned her out, rocking and rolling right over the house. Michaela jumped, and looked up at the ceiling. ‘Shit that was close,’ she said.

Trisha was speaking. ‘Michaela, Michaela, you there? Damn it I can’t hear a bloody thing, what the fuck is going on there?’

Michaela stood up and pushed away the dog cringing against her. ‘Storm’s right overhead,’ she said. ‘I can’t hear anything either. Can I call you back, Trisha, I’m going to have to call you back, I can’t hear anything worth a damn and the bloody dog’s trying to climb into my lap.’

On the other end of the line, Trisha swore. ‘I gotta go to work in half an hour. I’ll call you, all right? During my lunch break.’

Another flash of lightening, followed almost immediately by a great roar of thunder. The lights flickered.

‘Yeah, that’s fine. Think the electricity’s going to go out.’ She flinched against another lightning show and crouched down on the kitchen floor with the dog as the thunder rolled over head. ‘Trisha? One thing, did you ask me to come over?’

A pause on the other end. ‘No. I said I needed you to come over. I’ll call you back, okay.’

Michaela pressed the phone’s end button, just as the lights flickered again and went out. Power was out. She laid the handset on the floor and sank down on her heels. Mack crowded against her and whined again. She wrapped her arms around him and they sat there, while the storm battered its fury against the house.

The pause between lightning and thunder grew longer and Michaela found herself holding her breath. She let it out and pushed herself to her feet, digging out her watch and checking the time. Nine o’clock. Would be midnight before Trisha called back. If she did. Michaela ran a hand through her hair.

She flicked the jug on to make a coffee. She was bone weary and it was going to be a long night if she had to wait for the phone call. The jug didn’t turn on and Michaela cursed herself. Of course it didn’t turn on, the power was out. Had she forgotten? It was dark in the house.

She opened the cupboard and fished out the flashlight. Damn it, she meant torch. Whatever it was called, the batteries weren’t flat and it switched on, the beam lighting up the dog in the corner, mashed against the cupboards where she’d left him. Now she knew how the expression hangdog had originated; he was hunched over, head down.

‘Hey Mack, it’s okay boy. The storm will be over soon.’ Already the lightshow was moving past the town and out to sea. The power might still be out an hour or so though. She held the light up and set about finding something to eat.