My sisters wiggled their eyebrows mutely at each other for a moment before Emerald asked, with astonishment, ‘So, you really are going to keep the baby?’

I shrugged. ‘Harry wants it too badly.’

‘But what about you?’ Amber said, softly.

‘Well, I put myself first once before, and look where that got me. Anyway, Harry says my affair with Brody was a real wake-up call. He admits he’s been a selfish bastard and is begging forgiveness. He said that he was total prick to lie to me, and that he knows that if he hadn’t cheated then I wouldn’t have either.’

‘I can never say sorry enough.’ Amber chewed her lip, regret devouring her.

‘But Harry did point out that he’s not the only one whose pants have been on fire. And not just in our family, either. Fake news and conspiracy theorists, anti-vaxxers, Cambridge Analytica, climate change deniers, anti-abortion activists on social media, Putin, Brexiteers, they all just lie, lie, lie . . . He said that Trump has told about fifteen thousand lies while in office.’

‘It’s true. How many of our friends’ hashtag “livingmybestlife” Instagram posts are putting a positive, filtered spin on misery and loneliness? All of mine, in the past, for sure,’ Amber acknowledged.

‘But he also promised that when we renew our vows, he would swear never to lie to me again.’

‘Ah, but was he lying at the time?’ Emerald asked, holding up crossed fingers.

Amber thumped our big sister in the arm, but it was good-natured. ‘Well, we’ll back you, Ruby, whatever you decide. Won’t we, Emerald?’

‘Yes. But I am not wearing any hideous, big, blancmange bridesmaid outfits ever again, is that clear?’

I shuddered. ‘No bridezilla, I promise!’

The wind picked up. The waves were now a creamy froth, whipped in places into peaks more than two metres tall. The sun was slightly less direct now, already starting to slip behind a faraway scribble of trees.

‘Bon voyage, Mum,’ I said, and then we turned back towards the car.

‘Are you limping?’ Amber asked Emerald in the casuarina grove.

‘God, it’s such a bore,’ Emerald admitted. ‘I’ve got arthritis behind my knee apparently. Arthritis! Jesus. That’s what old people get. I’ll probably have to have an op.’

‘Cheer up. The upside of having knee surgery is that you’ll never have to give a blow job again.’ I smiled. ‘“I’m sorry, but I’m not allowed on my knees. Doctor’s orders.”’

‘Except to a man standing on a ladder,’ Emerald quipped.

‘Speaking of dicks,’ Amber added, ‘it’s just as well you didn’t go any further with Scott. He calls his appendage the Conquistador. Did I ever tell you that? Plus, all lawyers are workaholics. He’d soon have had you plea-bargaining for foreplay and outlining all your sexual requirements on a yellow legal pad.’