Lisa Heidke by Lucy (mobi) (rosie project .TXT) 📕

Sam can’t take his eyes off the crabs, fish and lobsters swimming in tanks, unaware that they’re fated to end up on some hungry tourist’s dinner plate. He quickly gets the idea, overcomes any objections, and decides he wants one.

Bella’s not so sure. ‘They’re overcrowded and living in filthy water. I don’t think so,’ she says.

We’re weighed down with bags of pirated movies, beads and hats, and our legs eventually give out. We stop at a restaurant offering fresh fish, lobster, crab and prawns, all packed in ice displays by the roadside.

‘Come in. Try,’ says a cheery Balinese woman clad in a bright orange and yellow dress. There are several kittens roaming around inside the restaurant.

Bella’s cautious but Sam says he’s starving so we go in. Despite knowing Bella and Sam could never eat a whole fish, I let them order one each. We also get a chilli steamed crab, prawns to share and nasi goreng. We’re on holiday, having fun and I feel happy and at peace. I sip a Bintang beer and watch the world go by while the kids feed the kittens. The colour, the lights, the buzz. Can life get any better than this?

Day 41

I have a bubble bath at four-thirty in the morning - blame the time difference. I know Indonesia’s only two hours behind Sydney but I’m wide awake, my mind buzzing. Besides, I haven’t had a bath since Mum forced me, weeks ago. Am soaking peacefully when the children wake up just after five o’clock.

By the time we’ve gorged ourselves at the buffet breakfast and head to the pool, it’s still only 7.30 am. Unbelievably, all the sun lounges are taken, at least the much sought-after poolside ones, draped with striped beach towels. Still, there’s no one around to claim them, so we do some moving around of the lounges themselves and end up with a good spot.

‘I might get my hair plaited,’ says Bella as we watch Sam diving for salek fruit seeds from the bottom of the pool. He never seems to tire of it.

‘When are we seeing Dad?’ he asks when he surfaces for a drink.

‘Have you rung him?’ Bella asks me.

I let her question hang in the heavy humid air. Despite the fun we’re having, Max is never far from my mind. As much as I’d like to forget about him and Alana, I can’t. Every time I see my children, I see him. They both look like him, in different ways. And I can’t forget my children - they’re my life.

Before arriving in Bali, I thought that calling Max would be the very first thing I’d do. We’d go to his hotel, all have dinner together and he and I would try to sort out this mess. So, yes, I called him last night after the kids were asleep. But I was relieved when his voicemail kicked in, because . . . well, the kids are happy, and, for the first time in a long time, I’m relaxed. I can forget about my reality back home for a while, where I’m a deserted wife, there’s homework to be corrected, endless chores to be done and the minor problem of a half-finished renovation. The selfish part of me is enjoying some stress-free time with Bella and Sam. It’s a relief to discover we can still have fun together; that despite the ugliness of the last few months, my relationship with them hasn’t been irreparably damaged. And although I want to - have to - see Max, I’ve no desire to break the magic that’s holding Bella, Sam and me together.

‘Yes, darling,’ I tell Bella. ‘I’ve left a message. I’m sure Dad’ll call very soon.’

‘Why don’t we surprise him?’ Sam says.

For a split second I think it’s a good idea, then shake myself. The kids don’t need to see him with Alana.

Although maybe he’s not with Alana anymore. It’s a possibility. Max gets bored so easily. He might be desperately sad and lonely, thinking he’s made the biggest mistake of his life. Or he could be in Panama with Alana, embarking on a whole new adventure.

Late in the afternoon we order pizza by the pool. It’s so hot that the ice in our lemonade melts less than a minute after the waiter’s placed the glasses in front of us. The kids swim then snooze in the shade. I call Max again, and am relieved when his phone automatically clicks to voicemail. I leave him another short message, then phone the Sheraton to check that he’s still registered. He is but he’s out. I leave a message with the concierge repeating the request to call me back.

By six o’clock, we’re exhausted. The sun sets over the ocean, the temperature drops slightly and the hawkers pack up their bags for the day. The kids are ready to collapse in front of a movie. Even though there are newer ones, Bella and Sam fight over Wild Child and Kung Fu Panda.

‘You’d better decide, guys, otherwise it’s Mamma Mia!—Sing-Along Edition,’ I tell them, and don’t hear another word.

Sitting in a comfy chair on our secluded verandah, I read my book in the fading light, daydream and nap. Bliss.

Inevitably, my thoughts turn to Max (I hate him . . . I love him . . . I hate him). Then Rock - he was great for my ego (guilt, guilt, guilt). And Patch. Misguided though he might be, I like Patch. He makes me laugh. Of course, I’d like him a whole lot better if he actually did some work on my house. I hope our little misunderstanding doesn’t cause permanent damage. I want him to finish the job.

And then, of course, I get to Dom. He still sounds incredibly gorgeous with his carefree charm and sexy, throaty laugh. The fact that he was (still is?) tall, dark and striking just adds to his charms. Remembering his tanned, hard physique makes my stomach churn, my nipples hard. We