Embracing Change by Debbie Roome Page B

lanky frame from the car and headed up the driveway, his breath soft puffs of mist that hung for a second before dissolving into icy air. Grabbing her bags, she went to open the front door.
    His face broke into a grin. “Good morning, Lady Sarah. You chariot awaits.”
    “Why thank you, Sir Joel.” A giggle escaped as he picked up her case and pretended to stagger.
    “Are you sure you’ve only packed for one night?”
    The streets were quiet and soon they were out of Christchurch, the road winding like a grey velvet ribbon towards silhouetted mountains and the first flush of dawn. They were both quiet and Sarah wondered what Joel was thinking about.
    “We’ll stop in Amberley to pick up some coffee,” he said eventually. “It’s just a few minutes from here.”
    Shortly afterwards, he pulled into a service station. The air was greasy with fumes and bacon but the coffee smelt good, and came with a swirl of cream and a sprinkling of chocolate.
    “Would you like a snack? I haven’t had breakfast yet, so I’m going to get something …”
    Sarah ran her eyes across the display of food. “Those date and bran muffins look good.”
    Joel selected a lamb and mint pie, and paid for their purchases.
    “Are we going to eat here or in the car?” Sarah asked, hoping for the car. The tables in the dining area were scattered with crumbs and dirty plates.
    Joel followed her eyes. “I’ve got a better idea. Come on.”
    He reversed the car from the parking bay and turned back in the direction they had come. “We’re going to take a short detour, but you’ll love it.”
    Ghostly trees closed in on the road and the car shuddered as it hit a section of rippled tarmac. A few minutes later he pulled into a sandy parking area. “This is it.”
    “The beach?”
    “Yep. Grab your breakfast.”
    Sarah followed him out of the car into air salty and fresh with spray. The sea was hidden behind a bank of sand dunes and scrub and she scrambled over them, trying not to spill her coffee while watching out for knobby roots and grabbing branches. The air was frigid and her breath came in short bursts of steam.
    “Almost there,” Joel encouraged.
    Sarah stopped as she caught her first glimpse of the ocean. Cold smooth sand lay before her and half moons of foam and aqua reflected clouds tinged with apricot rims. She was silent for a long while, absorbing the incredible beauty.
    Joel touched her elbow. “Your coffee’s going cold. Come and sit on the rocks with me.”
    She followed him across the sand, noticing how their footprints disturbed the perfection, left a trace of who they were. The rocks were damp and icy and Joel spread out a plastic mat for her to sit on. “Awesome isn’t it?”
    Sarah nodded, swallowing mouthfuls of lukewarm coffee and eating as the stain of light changed from peach to red to golden. Each shade rippled across the sea, and reflections turned it into a liquid masterpiece. For the first time in months, Sarah wished she had her paints and a blank canvas with her. That she could come down here morning after morning and blend gold and amber, honey and lemon, and capture a glimpse of this winter kaleidoscope of beauty.
    Conversation blossomed as they returned to the car and started on the journey north. Joel pointed out landmarks and gave the background of each little town they passed through, and Sarah shared what she had learned through her job, and time slipped by.
    They’d been on the road for another hour when Sarah saw her: a portly woman on the side of the road, kneeling by a simple white cross. Her arm supported a mass of winter blossoms in pearl, lilac and gold, and a glass jar sat at the foot of the cross. She looked up and for a second her eyes locked with Sarah’s, a brief interchange, the touching of fragments of life.
    “Did you see that?” she asked, turning her head to Joel. “The cross, I mean. And the woman with the flowers. We do that in South Africa too. I wonder what happened back