Ali nodded, then remembered Michael didn’t know that Stella had changed her mind about drama school in Sydney. She opened her mouth to broach the subject, but Thea, sharp as a tack, said, ‘After NIDA, you mean?’ and Stella said, ‘No, instead of,’ and Ali thought, Oh jeez, here we go.

‘I beg your pardon?’ Michael said. He paused, with his glass en route to his mouth, and looked intently at his younger daughter. Stella looked at Ali. Michael put his glass down and looked at Ali too.

‘Stella’s decided she doesn’t want to take up the place at NIDA,’ Ali said. She couldn’t think why she hadn’t told him. It was a huge oversight, for sure.

‘Oh,’ Michael said. ‘Nice of you to mention it. When was this decided?’

‘At Lismore,’ Stella said. ‘But it wasn’t, like, a big moment or anything. You were out in the ute, checking fences or something. We didn’t mean not to tell you.’

‘Not a big moment?’

‘Oh, Stella, you’re such a pain in the ass,’ Thea said, and she sighed heavily. ‘I suppose we’re going to have to talk about you all night again now.’

‘Who’s going to Portugal?’ Beatriz asked, beaming widely, bearing her stew to the table, entirely oblivious to the tension that had suddenly filled the room to its corners. She placed the pot in the centre of the table. ‘Now we can eat,’ she said.

‘You flew through that audition in November,’ Michael said to Stella. ‘They loved you. You were barely out the door before they offered you a place.’

‘Well, anyway,’ she said. ‘I’m not going.’

‘Yes, you are.’

‘Mum!’ Stella said, appealing to Ali.

Michael took the ladle and began to dole out fish stew into the topmost bowl of a stack of five in front of him. Always, when they ate together like this, Michael dished up the food Beatriz had cooked. Why was this? thought Ali. Because his father had, before him. Because Beatriz understood him to be head of the household. Because Michael simply took charge, naturally, easily, without debate.

‘Michael,’ Ali said. ‘Let’s have this conversation later.’

‘Bad enough that she chooses drama in the first place,’ Michael said, shovelling at the shellfish and rattling mussels and clams into the waiting bowls. ‘But at least she aimed high with NIDA. Now, apparently, she’s not even prepared to do that.’

‘Dad!’ Stella said. Her eyes filled with angry tears.

Michael looked at her, his face grim. ‘Your IB score was phenomenal,’ he said. ‘Phenomenal. You could do anything, anything. Christ Almighty, it was better than Thea’s, and she’s a med student.’