Sword of Allah

Tamarama, Sydney, Australia

Annabelle Gilbert stood up against the plate-glass window. The view from her rented apartment presented a northerly aspect of the beach called ‘Glamorama’ by the locals. It was easy to see why. The bodies on their designer-motif towels were all gym toned, well-defined abs and silicon implants — both the men and the women. It was an easy downhill walk to the small crescent of white sand. The sun was shining and it was a beautiful day. She should be out enjoying it, only there was an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Is this really where I should be?

The salary they paid her was embarrassing and the promises that went with it were, she had to admit, exciting. So why did she feel she’d lost something in the deal? Annabelle Gilbert knew exactly what she’d lost. Or rather, who she’d lost. She told herself repeatedly that she hadn’t given Tom away for the sake of a career move. Only, the reasons for ending her relationship now seemed unimportant. Annabelle had been prepared to live with Tom’s choices before they were engaged, so why not after it?

And then there was Saunders. She knew exactly what he wanted from her, and it had nothing whatsoever to do with her ability to read the news. Still, she’d allowed herself to be seduced by his crap — perhaps because it fed her ego. Naturally, she’d kept her real feelings about Saunders to herself because it was in her interest to do so. It was called playing the game. Annabelle Gilbert gazed out the window at all the self-absorbed people working on their tans and felt utterly alone. It occurred to her that she was fitting right in.