Sacha remained standing just inside the doorway of the shop while Rona and Phuong got re-acquainted. She glanced at the boxes of exotic items on the shelves, each box marked in rainbows of Vietnamese and other Asian writing. She kept half an ear on Rona and Phuong's conversation, telling herself she wasn't interested - occasional words and phrases registered in her mind: "Fitzroy"; "Back to Sydney"; Working all day"; "Hannah".

After a while Sacha heard her own name. She looked up - a little too eagerly, she felt to her embarrassment; Rona was looking back at her. "Sacha?"

"Yeah?"

"Phuong's about to finish up here. You wanna go grab some lunch?"

Sacha sighed. "I don't have the money" she said. Just thinking about it started her feeling stressed. But again she felt that she had embarrassed herself, and hurried to cover her tracks: "I mean, I don't have any money on me." She could feel her face flushing and hoped that Rona wouldn't notice.

"Oh, don't worry about that" Rona said. "Phuong's uncle runs a place down the road, he'll give us something on the house. Right, Phuong?"

"Of course!" grinned Phuong.

"Okay . . ." said Sacha, cautiously.

"Oh, come on!" laughed Rona. She turned back to Phuong. "Honestly, it's so hard to get her to do anything."

Phuong looked at Sacha as Rona was speaking: something in her eyes communicated an amused sympathy which was so kindly and understanding that Sacha felt her mood lighten quite unexpectedly. "For Christ's sake" Sacha exclaimed with a small laugh. "I've already got one sister worrying about my life, I don't need another one!"