Eyrie by Tim Winton


Tim Winton

Keely and Gemma are damaged. They have a boy of six to look after and protect. Kai is no easy child to deal with. He has nightmares about falling. He is obsessed with dying. His parents are drug-addled, which does not make the task of looking after him any easier. And he lives on the tenth floor, with a balcony. Will there be a disaster?

By the time he had taken the others home, returned to Doris's to park the boat and flush the outboard, left the keys to the Volvo under the mat and caught the train back to Fremantle, it was past mid-afternoon. His exalted mood had decayed somewhat: he was ravenous and the sun had gotten to him, but for all that he felt better than he had in weeks. He showered, gulped a couple of beefy brufens, made a sandwich and sat in his armchair sipping water.

At dusk he was still there. Half the sandwich dry and curled in his lap and the pint glass capsized on the carpet beside him. He brushed the bread away, glanced an uneasy moment at the new watermark and went out onto the balcony to clear his mind.
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Explicit sexual content