Listen to Inga Simpson read ‘Blue crane’.

THOSE FIRST WEEKS Sally walked the beach, it went unread. She saw only a scallop of yellow sand edged with dark rock. Although her eyes were directed downwards, ahead of her feet and, occasionally, out to the horizon, her gaze was still inwards, picking over the detritus of her old life. The shift south had not brought her the happiness she had imagined. Anonymity, a fresh start, was a relief – but also rather lonely. The other residents waved or said good morning as they passed. But Sally, with her Queensland number plates and sun-­ravaged skin, was not one of them. She saw the locals stopping to chat to one another, laughing and smiling and visiting each other’s houses in the evenings, carrying wine or cloth-­covered boards. It was a world she remained outside.