Prologue

November 2012

I sank easily into the comfort of an overstuffed sofa in our holiday unit, its cushions soft and slouchy, shaped by the many guests who had stayed before us. A newly purchased Vogue magazine sat on my lap, begging to be read, as I slipped off my sandals and let my toes touch the cool, tiled floor.

Beyond the open doors leading onto the balcony, a saltwater pool lapped the edges of the resorts leafy, tropical garden. Close enough to smell the sun-warmed chlorine and hear the occasional splash, I laughed as I watched the kids and their dad playing in the pool in the afternoon sun. Images of my childhood summers spent on Queensland’s sunny Gold Coast flickered like old home movies—sandy feet, the sharp sting of saltwater on sunburned skin, and the soft hum of cicadas in the evening. I was both here and there for a moment, suspended between memory and the present. I loved that the kids got to enjoy the same, carefree, sunny holidays I had at their age.

I laughed again as our two enthusiastic nine-year-olds eagerly raced to reach their father in the deep end of the pool. Squealing in delight, Tyz and Bades begged Bren to lift them onto his shoulders; the perfect launching pad for somersaults. Happiness washed over me like a song I’d forgotten I loved, as they played. I couldn’t help but wonder how the other resort guests were enjoying the kid’s noisy squeals, but it didn’t matter. Their laughter and excitement were contagious, and they and their dad were having the time of their lives.

“Mum, Mum,” Tyra yelled from the pool.

“What’s up?” I called back, walking to the balcony.

“Dad said, do you want to come to Piccolo for a coffee?’” Dad was standing waist-deep in the pool beside her, grinning.

“Yes, I do,” I said. “I’ll grab my hat.”

“Can you grab our towels?” Baden yelled.

“Why didn’t you take them with you?”

“What?”

“Never mind,” I said as I walked back into the unit to get three towels out of the dryer. Why did they never take their towels with them?

***

Tyz and Bades were growing up quickly. I remember thinking on this trip that Bren and I needed to soak up every moment of the holidays we took with them while we still could. It wouldn’t be long before they were off on their own adventures without us. What we didn’t know then, was that their world would be turned upside down by their dad’s cancer diagnosis before they turned eleven. That trip would be our last Gold Coast holiday together.

We always know when we are doing something for the first time—but rarely when it’s the last.