‘Michael! Do not take the Lord’s name in vain,’ Beatriz said, and Thea said, ‘Cheers, Dad, appreciate that.’ She took the bowl he’d filled and passed it to Beatriz, the next to Ali, then Stella, then took one for herself. Michael filled the last bowl, then pushed what remained of the stew back to the centre of the table. Yellow with saffron, red with tomatoes, green with herbs, it looked ambrosial, but even Beatriz realised now that her food was no longer the main event.

‘If you think you’re loafing around Europe alone, think again,’ Michael said. He was deeply aggrieved, with Ali more than with Stella; he was pale with suppressed anger.

‘You’re going alone?’ Beatriz said.

‘I won’t be on my own, not at first,’ Stella said.

The girl was trying to speak levelly, trying not to betray her emotion. She was their rebel, always the one with her own agenda, but even so, thought Ali, she was still affected by her father’s disapproval. He had the knack of making her feel very young, very uncertain. But Stella had fought for her right to apply to drama school when he – and all her teachers – thought she was destined for languages at ANU. Now she’d fight for the right not to do drama either. Stella would win; Ali knew this.

‘I’m going to volunteer for three months with an NGO, in Italy,’ the girl said now.

Ali and Thea, both impressed by this statement, said, ‘Are you?’ at precisely the same time.

‘No,’ Michael said. ‘No, Stella. You. Are. Not.’

‘I don’t think you can stop her, Dad,’ Thea said, still narked by his reference to her IB score, which had indeed been three points lower than her sister’s.

‘I’d really prefer to discuss this later,’ Ali said. ‘Beatriz made this lovely food, we should all just enjoy it and postpone this conversation until after dinner.’

Beatriz dipped her head at Ali, in recognition of a point well made. Stella immediately said, ‘Yes, sorry, Beatriz, it’s the best, obrigada.’ Beatriz smiled at Stella, then for a few long seconds no one said anything. The sound of cutlery on china was awkwardly loud. Ali drank her wine, too quickly. Thea picked up a half-opened mussel shell and peered suspiciously at its insides, poked at it with a fork, then held it up to Beatriz, who nodded yes, it’s fine, eat it.

‘Stella,’ Michael said, and everyone looked at him. He wasn’t a man for dropping the subject if he hadn’t yet got his way. ‘You’ve shown me in the past three months that you’re not capable of looking after yourself. You can travel afterwards, do the degree you applied for first, do some growing up.’

Stella carefully put down her fork and spoon. ‘When I told Mum I didn’t want to go to uni, she just said, “Then don’t.”’