When the neighbourhood houses became mansions with rolling green lawns and wraparound porches, she tucked her flask into her purse. “We’re almost here.”

She shook her hands in front of her, balling them into fists and releasing them. “I should warn you, I’m getting super drunk. And the second we leave this place, you’re going to get your brains fucked out.”

Willow laughed. “Fine by me.”

“Okay then. It’s the next house on the left.”

It wasn’t a house as far as Willow could see, just a wrought iron fence with a few cream balloons tied to it.

Eden pointed to a black box. “The security button’s on the left. Punch in one, nine, six, six, and the gate will open.”

“Ah.” Willow wound down the window and punched the buttons, noting the glass eye of a camera. “Is someone monitoring this?”

“My dad, probably.”

His stomach doing loops, Willow drove up the winding driveway taking care not to skid on the white stones. The house was huge, a triple-story red brick mansion with square windows and a steep grey roof. The BBC could have filmed a miniseries in it. “Fucking hell.”

Eden unbuckled her seatbelt. “It’s horrible, isn’t it?”

It wasn’t horrible, but it did look like someone had plunked a country estate in the middle of Melbourne suburbia. He pulled off the main driveway, parking beside rows of BMWs, Audis, and Teslas. He glanced at Eden. She was milky pale. “Baby?”

Before she could say anything, a red-faced man in suspenders came bouncing down the front stairs. Spotting them, he waved hello. “I don’t recognise you! Who’s that there?”

His accent was pure Chelsea poshness. Eden slumped in her seat. “Oh fuck.”

Trying not to laugh, Willow rolled down his window. “Hi, Mr Cartwright, I’m Sloan Williams. Am I okay to park here?”

“Of course, park wherever you like.” He peered into the GLA then smiled. “I’m George, by the way.”

Again, Willow looked to Eden. She avoided his eyes. He shook Cartwright’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“And you.”

Willow got out of the car and after a moment’s hesitation, Eden followed.

“So, what are you doing here?” George said conversationally. “Are you seeing one of the McKinley girls?”

“No, um…” He gestured at Eden. “I’m here with…?”

George looked at his daughter and did a double-take. “Oh, you’re here with Eden. Hello, darling.”

“Hi dad,” Eden mumbled, stepping forward and kissing him on the cheek. George’s gaze stayed on him. “Why do I recognise you from somewhere?”

“I, uh, play football?”

“Of course!” George’s face lit up. “What team do you play for? And how long?”