Reluctantly Home

by Imogen Clark

then sat quietly contemplating the sea beyond the window. Pip had missed moments of peace and stillness. The pace of life was so fast in London and she loved being in the thick of it, thriving on the stress and dancing on the competitive knife-edge without losing her balance. But she had been playing the game by the wrong rules, she realised now. The lifestyle, the competition, having just the right thing or eating in just the right place – it had grown out of proportion, like a cancer that just kept multiplying until there was no room for other, less urgent things. And she hadn’t made any space for quiet – had scoffed at it,