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Praise For Fiona Lowe

“Set to be the next Big Little Lies. Part-Liane Moriarty, part-Jodi Picoult, Just an Ordinary Family is a compelling drama about a seemingly ‘ordinary’ family that implodes after a domino effect of lies, betrayals, disappointments and regrets.”—Mamamia on Just An Ordinary Family

“Fiona Lowe weaves an extraordinary story of loss, love and forgiveness.”—Glam Adelaide on Just An Ordinary Family

“This is a captivating story that encompasses all of the aspects of family life with its triumphs and its tribulations.”—Mic Loves Books on Just An Ordinary Family

“The undisputed queen of Australian small town fiction … Fiona’s trademark mix of engaging, well described characters and interesting social issues will draw you in.”—Canberra Weekly on Just An Ordinary Family

“This is a true family drama and tale of sacrifice, betrayal and ultimately forgiveness.”— Kiddo Magazine on Just An Ordinary Family

“Fiona Lowe's ability to create atmosphere and tension and real relationship dynamics is a gift.”

—Sally Hepworth, bestselling author of The Mother-in-Law on Home Fires

“Lowe breathes real life into her characters…Home Fires is a profoundly hopeful tale, one of re-generation, of the strength gained from women supporting women, and of a community pulling together, one that acts as a powerful reminder of the resilience of the human spirit…a deeply Australian story that brilliantly captures our own life and times.”

—Better Reading on Home Fires

“Fiona Lowe has once again brought the Australian way of life to us. The characters are complex, with secrets and heartbreak. They are the true vision of a country town, fighting for their town and happiness.”—Glam Adelaide on Home Fires

“Fiona Lowe is the queen of Australian country town fiction … another well researched and compassionate tale.”—Canberra Weekly on Home Fires

“Lowe is a master at painting believable characters with heart and soul that contribute to creating such an addictive read.”—The Weekly Times on Birthright

“Birthright is a complex story that seamlessly intertwines many story lines. It is full of interesting characters that reveal more and more as the story progresses. It is raw, incredibly engaging and reads beautifully.” —The Big Book Club on Birthright

“Fiona Lowe’s writing is infused with many splendid literary influences. Her books entertain and immerse readers but there are also echoes of classic writers such as Evelyn Waugh, the Brontë sisters, and Isabel Allende…Lowe's writing is distinctly Australian with its power to evoke grit and tenderness, joy and bleakness, tragedy and comedy, all at once.”

—Better Reading on Birthright

“Filled with credible characters and familiar situations, it makes for an emotional read.”

—Canberra Weekly on Birthright

“Entertaining and riveting reading.”

—Good Reading on Birthright

“The question of wealth is always a contentious issue and Fiona Lowe explores this subject area with great insight, wrapping the resulting family story up in one engrossing and highly readable novel.”

—Amanda, Mrs B’s Book Reviews on Birthright

“A sweeping Australian novel of lost love and tangled family secrets.”

—Australian Country on Daughter of Mine

“A readable and thoughtful book. It has winner written all over it.”

—The Weekly Times on Daughter of Mine

“Daughter of Mine is a beautiful story of bonds, family expectations and the insidious and far reaching effects of secrets and lies. It may be the first book I have read by Fiona Lowe but I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

—Beauty & Lace on Daughter of Mine

“…a real page-turner.”

—Cairns Eye on Daughter of Mine

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Also by Fiona Lowe

Daughter of Mine

Birthright

Home Fires

Just An Ordinary Family

A Home Like Ours

Coming in 2022

A Family of Strangers

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Romance Novels 2006-2018

Dedication

For my sister, Sue

Thanks for the cheerleading, your wise counsel and the straight talk. Love you lots!

A single lie discovered is enough to create doubt in every truth expressed.

Anonymous

Betray a friend, and you’ll often find you have ruined yourself.

Aesop

Prologue

The dazzling dance of sunshine on water so entranced Karen Hunter, she misjudged the width of the double baby stroller. One moment the outside wheels were firmly connected to the concrete path and the next they were suspended in midair. The stroller teetered violently. Red hot fear streaked through her. Throwing all her strength behind it, she wrenched on the handle, hauling the heavy stroller back to safety. The ensuing momentum vibrated through the tightly coiled suspension springs and it bounced wildly.

With her heart pounding as fast as if she’d just run a race, Karen frantically peered into the stroller to check her precious cargo. Both babies remained tucked up under their hand-embroidered blankets, sound asleep and utterly unperturbed by their rocky ride. She slumped in relief.

“No one ever tells you how hard these things are to drive, do they?” a voice said behind her.

Karen turned to see a woman of similar age pushing a regular stroller. “No one tells you that being a mother’s both exhilarating and terrifying. Today’s the first time I’ve taken them out on my own and I almost tipped them onto the road.”

The woman laughed. “Don’t worry, that’s what the straps are for.”

Karen envied her easy manner. “You sound a lot more experienced than me.”

“Perhaps on stroller pushing. Dan gets colic so we walk a lot. We’re on our way to the new mom’s group.” She pointed at the building farther down the street. “You must be Karen.”

Karen’s heart began to pound again. How did this woman know her name? Recently arrived in Kurnai Bay from Melbourne, she wasn’t used to her neighbors knowing her name, let alone a complete stranger.

But the woman didn’t seem to notice Karen’s unease. “I’m Hilary van den Berg. It’s great to meet you. Eileen said you were joining our group. I made you a welcome casserole four days ago, though it turns out the hardest part isn’t the cooking, but actually getting into the car to deliver it to you.” The woman leaned in conspiratorially. “If Eileen asks about it, can you tell her you got it? I promise Ken will drop it over to you tonight.”

Hilary’s rapid-fire speech generated so many questions, Karen didn’t know where to start. Granted, she was sleep deprived and she and Peter had spoken to a parade of realtors, tradesmen and utility providers during the previous ten days, but she was certain she hadn’t met an Eileen.

“Who’s Eileen?”

“The health center nurse.” Hilary laughed. “I’m not surprised you can’t remember who’s who. With twins, you must have double baby brain.”

“Something like that,” Karen said faintly. Most days she had no idea if she was coming or going.

“Twins have always been my secret wish.” Hilary stroked her own baby’s head. “I’ll never tell Dan, but I was disappointed when I found out I was only cooking him. You’re so lucky!”

Karen winced. Luck was such an arbitrary event—one person’s luck was too often another person’s misfortune, but she couldn’t think about that. Couldn’t dwell on the heartache and regrets. Her focus must be her daughters and creating opportunities for them both to thrive.

“I thought I was only having one baby right up until two minutes after I delivered Libby.”

Hilary’s eyes widened. “Crikey! Have you gotten over the shock yet?”

Karen thought about the rollercoaster ride of the last nine weeks, including the unexpected move. “Not really.”

“Can I peek?”

Apparently, it was a rhetorical question, because before Karen could say a word, Hilary was pushing back the stroller covers and peering in.

“Oh, Karen,” she breathed. “They’re gorgeous. What are their names?”

“Libby’s the eldest and she’s under the lemon-colored blanket.”

As if Libby knew she was being discussed, her blue eyes popped open, her lips widened into a beatific smile and then she gurgled.

“Aren’t you a bright spark,” Hilary cooed. “You look like you know what you want.”

Karen thought anxiously about Libby’s intensity—she was either in a fury or laughing in delight. “She knows what she likes and dislikes.”

“It’s a bit scary the way they arrive with their own distinct personalities. I wasn’t expecting that. I thought I’d have more of an influence in molding Dan’s character but after six months of motherhood, I’m already wondering if parents have any say in their children’s personality.”

Karen’s gut churned. “Of course we have a say. We must have a say!”

Hilary blinked, momentarily startled by the emphatic response. “Let’s hope you’re right and I’m wrong, because right now, Dan thinks all he has to do in life is bat his baby blues and everyone will drop everything and come running.” She turned her attention to the second twin. “And who’s this cutie?”

“Alice. She’s our precious surprise.” Unlike Libby, Alice didn’t stir, although her eyes roved under her almost translucent lids.

Hilary glanced at Karen; unasked questions clear in her eyes. “She’s a lot smaller than her sister.”

“Yes.” Karen left it at that as a familiar guilt pulled tightly around her. It was her fault Alice had failed to thrive.

The pediatrician’s words were never far away: “With such a low birth weight, there’s a high risk of developmental delay.”

“Do you mean brain damage?” Her husband, Peter had asked the question Karen had been too scared to voice.

“I’m constantly surprised by the remarkable resilience of the human body,” the doctor said. “The fact Alice is alive is a miracle in itself. The best thing you can do is take her home and love her.”

Karen slipped her finger against Alice’s palm, welcoming the tight and reassuring grip of her tiny hand. Once again, she silently made the promise she’d made each day for weeks.

I’ll make things better, Alice. I’ll keep you safe and protect you. Always.

Chapter One

January

Alice Hunter sneezed into her shoulder three times and then, despite the warm summer day, shivered. It was a sure sign she was sick. These were the moments when she missed being a kid.

When she was growing up, her mother had strict rules about illness and one of Karen’s favorite sayings had been, “If you can stand and argue with me about going to school, you’re well enough to go.” Many times, Alice had reluctantly stuffed her bag with books and stomped out the door. But whenever Alice had spiked a temperature, Karen had always tucked her up in bed and fed her chicken soup.

“Table seven.” Jake, the chef and owner of the restaurant, slid hot plates onto the pass-through and frowned. “You look like crap. Don’t give whatever it is to the customers.”

“Gee, thanks. And here I was thinking you might make me some immune boosting soup.”

“You’re lucky I’m not making you work a double shift.”

Not for the first time, Alice wondered how the life she’d envisioned for herself had come to this. Despite her best laid plans, she was back in Kurnai Bay, living in her childhood home and working four part-time jobs. Waitressing during the summer crush was the worst of them.

Alice carried the pasta bowl and the fish plate to table seven, offered pepper and parmesan cheese and smiled against aching teeth. Great. She probably had sinusitis on top of the cold. She considered dropping into the medical practice on the way home in case Libby could squeeze her in for an appointment. Then again, Libby’s patients had to be halfway to septic shock before she prescribed antibiotics. Her twin would recommend saline nasal spray, steam inhalations and a review in three days.

“We need another bottle of water.” The woman at table seven gave Alice the empty bottle.

“Absolutely. I’ll be right back.”

Alice hip-swiveled her way between the closely set tables. When she was halfway to the bar, someone grabbed the back of her T-shirt.

“We’re ready to order. We’ve been ready for ten minutes.”

Get your hands off me, you fat, ugly pig. “Excellent.”

Alice didn’t point out that their menus were still wide open, which signaled to her they were still prevaricating. Nor did she mention she was on an errand for another table and she’d be back in a minute—she’d learned it was faster to just take the order. Then she’d deliver it to the kitchen, collect table seven’s water and return. Waitressing, she had down pat. It was the rest of her life that was a shambles.

Her nose tickled in a raft of irritation and she sneezed into her shoulder.

The customer leaned back, his face aghast. “We’re on vacation. We didn’t come here to get sick. Should you even be working?”

Probably not, but she didn’t have the luxury of not working today. No one in Kurnai Bay did. They had four months to earn a year’s income so they could survive the slower winter months. Once Easter was over, the town returned to the sleepy fishing village it had been since whalers and sealers plied their trade, the sea had been the highway to Melbourne and Sydney, and Canberra wasn’t even a twinkle in Australia’s eye.

Released from work a few hours later, Alice slumped on the same couch she’d lain on as a child—albeit reupholstered—only unlike when she was a kid, no one was home to fuss over her, stroke her forehead and tell her a favorite story. Although it had been years since either Karen or Peter had recounted the story of her birth—her surprise arrival twenty minutes after Libby’s—it was part of the Hunter family’s folklore. Not once as either a kid or an adult had Alice ever begrudged Libby her first-born status. Her theatrical soul preferred the story of her more exciting birth.

Her parents were out of town on their annual Melbourne vacation. They maintained that the big city in January was far more peaceful than Kurnai Bay, and they had a point. In previous years, Karen and Peter had stayed with Alice in her beloved Victorian terrace house in leafy Albert Park. This year, they’d rented a two-bedroom apartment in Docklands through Airbnb. They’d wanted Alice to come with them and although part of her appreciated their invitation, she’d rather walk over shards of glass than visit Melbourne. It hurt a little that her parents didn’t understand that.

Alice’s bug, which had been busy lobbing its fever and energy-stealing weaponry on her body, finally reached her mind. It easily breached the defenses she’d spent months bricking into place. Helplessly, she felt herself tumbling back into the quagmire of despair that had claimed her once before and she’d fought so hard to leave. A sob rose to the back of her throat and combining with her snot-clogged nose, she choked. Coughing violently, she sat up fast. Tubby, the family’s elderly cat, meowed indignantly and sank his claws into Alice’s thighs to stall his slide off her lap.

“Ouch! Play nice, Tubby.” She leaned over the cat and grabbed tissues before lying back on the cushions. So, this was what her wonderful life had been reduced to? She was thirty-three and a half, ambivalently single, back living under her parents’ roof, working minimum wage jobs, and so full of goop she couldn’t cry and breathe at the same time. Hell, she couldn’t even be sick right.

Her phone rang and she snatched it up. “Hi, Libs.”

“You sound like death warmed up,” her twin said.

“Summer cold.”

“Poor you. It’s going around. Thank God, I’m on a half-day. The clinic’s been full of sad-sack tourists for two days and I’m over the monotony of doling out tissues and sympathy. By 11:00, I found myself daydreaming about broken bones and chest pain.”

Alice laughed, immediately coughed and imagined Libby holding the phone away from her ear. She managed a strangled, “Sorry.”

“I was calling to invite you for dinner. Nick’s barbecuing and Jess is coming, but it sounds like you need to stay in bed.”

Libby didn’t say, “and not infect the rest of us” but it was there in her doctor’s tone. Her twin had always been direct and never put up with any nonsense—not even when they were children. Unlike Alice, Libby had always known exactly what she wanted and set out to make it happen. When Alice was compared to Libby’s single-minded determination and competitive streak, she came across as dreamy, vague and aimless.

“Do you need anything, Al? I’ve got some soup in the freezer I could drop-off.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine.”

“If you’re sure. Yell out if you change your mind. I’ll call tomorrow.”

The line fell silent and Alice lay picturing tonight’s dinner. Her nieces and Jess’s little boy would charge around playing on the soft Santa Ana lawn while Nick cooked and kid wrangled. He’d pour Libby and Jess a glass of wine and insist they relax and “catch up,” as if the two women rarely saw each other. The reality was Libby and Jess talked every day and met face-to-face at least three times a week.

A pale green snake slithered through Alice, although she didn’t know if it was headed toward the children, Nick—a prince among men—or Libby’s twenty-year friendship with Jess. Didn’t all the twin studies prove that twins are each other’s best friend? And yet, she and Libby were the exception to the rule.

For the first thirteen years of her life, Alice had struggled to keep up with Libby, who was smarter and more coordinated than she’d ever be, but the one thing that had sustained her was being her twin’s best friend. Everything changed the day Jess arrived in Kurnai Bay and Libby’s focus shifted away from Alice. Suddenly, her twin was just a sister. It was the first time Alice experienced true heartache. Now she was a pro, although she wasn’t certain she was any better at dealing with it.

Karen had tried consoling a sobbing Alice, telling her it was normal for girls to have a wide circle of friends with different interests and that Libby’s friendship with Jess didn’t mean she loved Alice any less. But Alice didn’t see it that way. Jess was everything Alice wasn’t: worldly, street smart, edgy and confident. Dangerous even, although only Alice thought that. Her mother had dismissed her concerns as “nonsense’”

Karen, usually so cautious about people outside of their social circle, happily welcomed Jess to Pelican House. Once, when a frustrated Alice complained that Jess was “always here,” Karen had replied firmly, “Her life hasn’t been as easy as yours.”

Alice’s early years had been a continuous round of therapies—speech, occupational, physiotherapy—with Karen constantly pushing her to practice her reading, writing and times tables. She hadn’t thought her life was particularly easy. She’d gone to bed each night hoping the intense friendship would burn out and that Jess would tire of Libby. But far from fracturing, the friendship deepened, leaving Alice firmly on the outside whenever Jess was around.

Now all three of them were grown and back in the bay, Alice was finding it harder than ever to catch her twin on her own. Not that Nick was the problem—it was Jess who left Alice feeling thirteen again and a third wheel. Or did she just allow herself to feel like that? Was she the problem? She got a definite vibe from Libby that her twin believed she was. Judging by the therapy podcasts she’d been bingeing recently—it was voyeurism catnip—feeling this way was probably due to some deep-seated insecurities from childhood. It seemed everything stemmed from childhood. The problem was, Alice’s childhood had been rock-solid stable and full of love. It was her adulthood that was proving the challenge.

Six months earlier, everything Alice believed to be true about her adult life had blown up with the force of a terrorist’s bomb, shattering her life in ways she’d never thought possible. Lawrence, the love of her life, her partner of three years and the future father of her brown-eyed, curly-haired children, had taken her to their favorite restaurant—the venue of their first date. Giddy with excitement, Alice had spent the day anticipating a proposal and an engagement ring. Instead she got, “It’s not you, it’s me. I just don’t love you enough.”

Whenever she looked back on that cold July night, facing Lawrence across the table as he worked through his printed list of their shared possessions, she still couldn’t fathom how she’d managed to eat a meal and participate in the destruction of their thirty-six months together.

“You take the Creuset cookware and I’ll keep the DeLonghi coffee machine,” he’d suggested.

“Because you don’t cook and I don’t appreciate coffee?”

“Exactly.”

“What about the Emily Kame Kngwarreye? We both appreciate that.” They’d bought the canvas at auction a year before. It was Alice’s first big art investment, but it had also been an investment in Lawrence.

“I don’t want to sell it just yet.”

Through the anesthetizing shock, Alice had managed a moment of clarity. As much as she loved the painting, she couldn’t afford to buy Lawrence out and she needed money to eat. “Then we get it independently appraised and you pay me half.”

Lawrence’s grimace had been the first sign that their separation might leave a flesh wound.

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