Jesus it’s cold, Carl grumbled to himself as he walked around the store. He had forgotten to get in wood and kindling the day before, and it had rained while he slept, so the fire in the pot-bellied stove was refusing to stay alight. He heard Maureen’s voice inside his head, explaining why he should do things and when, but it appeared so frequently throughout his day that Carl had stopped listening. He pulled back the bolts on the front door, which hardly seemed necessary in a place like Wood Green – South Africa, now there’s a place where you need security – and noticed he was standing on a piece of paper. An envelope containing money and a shopping list had been slipped beneath the door during the night. As he read the numbers beside the items, Carl assumed that Michael and Lucian were giving a party. He had not received an invitation but that was hardly surprising. Beyond Paul, he had made no friends in Wood Green. Penny was civil enough, although her son had a surly manner about him. And the rest of the community, well they could manage a good morning or a good afternoon if they needed a loaf of bread. But as for saying hello in the street, how are you, is the business doing well, anything you need to know just ask, would you like to come to dinner as a welcome to Wood Green – you could forget it. He had put an end to home deliveries. Petrol was too expensive, no one tipped, and if you got something wrong in the order then watch out because the whole world was about to collapse, and it was all your fault. But he was willing to make an exception for an order this large. No one could be expected to carry home so much shopping. And Maureen had explained that neither Lucian nor Michael knew how to drive. Which to Carl seemed insane. Like a self-imposed exile, he thought as he reread the list. It was going to use up nearly all of the shop’s fresh stock, and a good portion of its dried goods as well. Maybe he should take the opportunity, before he reordered, to close the place up and have a couple weeks off. To get his head straight. Figure out what exactly he wanted from Tasmania. From life. Though he checked his phone and computer every day, he still had seen no mention of his name in the newspapers back home. And increasingly it occurred to Carl that perhaps hiding was unnecessary. Of course returning to Johannesburg was out of the question. But there was a big world out there, bigger than Wood Green, and he still had his old passport. He could use some time away from Paul as well. There had been too many arguments of late. Carl knew he had a temper and that he could be impatient, but everything up here moved so slowly! Maybe it would be better if he just slipped away. Left a note on the shop’s front door. He could cancel his regular deliveries with a few phone calls. And it was not as if he was going to be losing much money. Carl suspected that closing for a couple of weeks might even make good business sense. And after that, well, who knew what he might do. The desire to sell the business continued to pester him no matter how many times he rationalised it as imprudent to both his getaway and his capital. But a loss of funds was inevitable whether he stayed or quit. Carl also knew there were degrees of loss, and time after time reminded himself of the things in life more important than money: conversation; cafés; nightclubs; clothes shopping; meeting new men; being able to use his phone beyond the range of his home wi-fi. And let’s face it, Paul and him were never going to make it. The pub owner was too passive for Carl’s taste, and a little too soft. Sure they had fun together, but it was not as if either of them believed it was true love. No one was playing that silly game. So why hang around? Carl began to go through the items on Lucian’s shopping list. Bread. Apples. Cheese. Biscuits. Flour. Meat. It was going to fill seven or eight boxes at least. If he did everything first – called the suppliers, threw away the remaining perishables, closed the upstairs windows – he could load the car, lock the front door, drive the boxes to Lucian’s house, then head straight off. Why not? He hankered to feel free. Liberated from Wood Green. And here was his chance. The fire in the stove had gone out again, but Carl decided he could put up with the cold for a few more hours. After that who knew where he might be. Maybe even someplace warm.