Karen kept her gaze on their intertwined fingers. “It’s hard for me not to worry, Alice. As a child, you were so much like Lisa, living in your own make-believe world of rainbows and your cast of fairy friends. You clung to your childhood so much longer than Libby and that worried me. You were naive and innocent and easily hurt. When you dropped out of everything then refused to go to school and the psychologist said you were at risk, I was terrified. My worst fear has always been that one day, just like your mother, you might find everything too much.”

Anguish for Lisa and Karen morphed with her own needs. “I’ve grown up, Mom. You and Dad got me here by loving me and giving me every opportunity to overcome my tough start. I’m sorry about my big wobble in the middle, but that was everything to do with aching to be a regular kid who didn’t need extra help. And probably a bit to do with living in Libby’s shadow.”

She gave her mother a wry smile. “I’m sorry I was slow to find my adult feet but, hey, I was slow in everything, right? The thing is, I’ve survived having my heart broken, being told I can’t have children and that my parents didn’t create me. I’ve cried about the babies I’m not going to have and I’m sure I will again, but I can honestly tell you that not once have I ever thought about hurting myself, or worse. I’m not Lisa, Mom. I’ve only ever known love and I’ve got you and Dad to thank for that.”

Karen’s tears intensified. “I’m so relieved.”

“So, you’ll stop worrying?”

“Are you content?”

Alice considered the question. “I’m all sorts of things at any given moment. I’m angry at my body and now I can’t help thinking that my ovaries don’t work because of the toxic cocktail I floated in as a fetus—”

“I’m so sorry, Alice. I know how much you wanted children.”

“Thank you.” She bit her lip, using the pain to hold herself together. “And while we’re being honest with each other, I need you to understand that I don’t want to go back to Melbourne.”

“But you loved—”

“Kaz,” Peter said gently. “Listen.”

Alice threw him a grateful look. “I thought I loved my job. But it turns out designing catalogs to showcase artworks for the rich to buy didn’t come close to giving me the job satisfaction I’m getting now. I love using art to help people remember their lives and remind their families they weren’t always old and frail. The mural I’m going to create as part of my artist-in-residence position means I can bring joy to people by representing why they live where they live.”