Chapter 3

I was feeling restless again. Perhaps I needed to travel—it had helped in the past. Meeting new people was always wonderful but I still felt so lonely sometimes.

Morning sun filtered through the glossy leaves and into my sleeping space, creating a warm hazy glow. The branches above me stretched apart a little to let it through. Amongst the leaves, pale mauve flowers yawned at the sun. I loved this tree. Wistfully I traced my finger down the edge of Bane’s face. The photo was beginning to fade, it hadn’t coped well with the damp air. If only I hadn’t let it get so crumpled the first time I had come here. What would I do when it was too damaged to look at? It was already so hard to remember details. I knew I was losing memories of my earlier life far too quickly. Like a bookshelf with open ends, the faster I grabbed at the new experiences that Eden offered and stacked them on the shelf, the faster my memories toppled, unremarked, from the other end in order to accommodate them. Sometimes I tried really hard to remember, but all I had were disjointed bits and pieces from my childhood. Often they didn’t make sense and I would realise I was remembering scenes from a TV show or a book. Even the real memories felt like they weren’t mine. Except for Bane.

Closing my eyes, I remembered the time he’d crashed the tractor into the fence post in the lambing paddock, and the time I’d put the rubber snake in the shed and scared the kajeebies out of him. I remembered him playing the old piano in our lounge room, complaining about how out of tune it was. With a deep breath I let myself remember the feel of his arms around me when we’d danced at our graduation, when the other girls had glared in open-mouthed astonishment. I even remembered the surge of jealousy I’d felt when he and Tessa had gone for a walk alone to talk about Guardian business. Although jealousy had no place in Eden, I still remembered how it felt. The memories hurt, and yet I couldn’t make myself let them go. How easy it would be just to eat the honey-sweet Living Fruit again and forget the pain. Perhaps then I could move on.

I’d m