The Lost Sapphire Read Free

rummaging through the second-hand stalls, finding bargains, like vintage clothes, or books, jewelleryand knick-knacks. We have a pretty collection of antique cups and saucers that we’ve found over the years. Then we go out for brunch at our favourite café in Paddington for poached eggs and smashed avocado.’
    Dad’s face softened with nostalgia. ‘Yes, I remember the markets. Well, there’re some pretty cool vintage markets in Melbourne, too, you know. Maybe we can do a bit of rummaging ourselves.’ He put his chopsticks down and smiled. ‘It’s so good to see you, myshka.’

    The next morning Marli woke up to the sound of a coffee grinder. She sat up, disoriented, expecting to be at home in her own turquoise-and-white bedroom. But she realised she was in her dad’s spare bedroom instead, which doubled as his home office, with shelves of files, piles of architectural magazines, her father’s drawing board, computer and a pinboard covered with building plans and photographs.
    The smell of freshly ground coffee wafted through the open door, making her feel hungry. Through the window, she had a view over the red rooftops of trendy Richmond to the parkland by the river and beyond to the leafy gardens of Hawthorn. The grey clouds had gone, replaced by blue sky, but it was still cool. Marli showered and dressed in her torn jeans, sloppy jumper and black boots.
    She came out into the living room and looked around in the morning light. The apartment was very modern and sparse. Not at all like the charming, colourful clutter of the little timber cottage that she shared with Mum. Therewere arty black-and-white photographs that Dad had taken on the walls, a big flat-screen television and a small kitchen. The whole place was decorated like a spread in an architectural magazine – lots of black, white and grey. It looks like a stylish hotel , Marli decided.
    â€˜Good morning, myshka,’ her dad said, standing at the stove with a spatula in one hand and a frypan in the other. The smell of sizzling butter filled the air. ‘Did you sleep well?’
    â€˜Okay,’ replied Marli, taking a seat at the bench. She pulled out her phone and checked for messages. There was just one from her mum, wishing her a good morning. Marli decided not to reply just yet.
    â€˜Coffee?’ asked Dad.
    Marli wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t drink coffee, but I’d love a cup of tea, please.’
    Dad raised his eyebrows in mock horror. ‘Sorry, all out of tea. We’ll get some this morning.’
    He poured batter in the hot pan, swished it around, then flipped it. ‘I’ve made pancakes, a special welcome breakfast.’
    Marli remembered that her dad often used to make her pancakes when she was younger, served with sour cream and berry jam. It was her favourite breakfast as a child. She hadn’t had them in years.
    â€˜That’s nice, Dad,’ said Marli. ‘Do you have any muesli?’
    Dad looked down at the tottering pile of fluffy, brown pancakes. ‘No, I don’t,’ he replied. ‘But we’ll go to the shops later this morning and stock up on whatever you normally like to eat.’
    Marli bit her lip. She didn’t want to hurt her dad’s feelings – it just slipped out. She was still feeling grumpy and cross.
    â€˜Thanks, Dad.’
    The pancakes were as delicious as she remembered, but Marli pushed a forkful of pancake around her plate. She wondered what her friends were doing today back home. She imagined them all at the beach, laughing and splashing.
    â€˜You don’t have to eat it,’ said Dad, taking away her plate and scraping the leftovers into the bin. ‘I’m a little out of practice. I usually just grab something on my way to work.’
    He stacked the dishes in the half-size dishwasher. Marli checked her phone again.
    â€˜Are you ready to go?’ asked Dad in a cheery voice. ‘I spoke to