Rochelle stretched out under the blanket listening to the branch scratch to-and-fro on the window pane. The thought of the day ahead made her quiver with anticipation. She could already hear Aunty Nola showering in the next room. The ferry to the zoo, they would meet Pa and chug across the harbour to the Athol Street Wharf, before taking the cable car to the top.
She tugged open all three drawers to her tallboy. What to wear. What to wear. What to wear. She just knew her mother would cluck away. “You’ll be on the harbour, love. You’ll need a top.” A jumble of jumpers splayed across the rug. Yes, my cap, my tattoo bonnet - just the thing. And, and, and - the toe socks from Aunty Nola last night. Perfect. Mum will have a fit!
She flung herself ‘round the banister and chortled her way down to breakfast.