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Chapters (63)
  1. COVER PAGE
  2. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  3. DEDICATION
  4. THURSDAY
  5. 1 LEXIE PARKER
  6. 2 MARTY PARKER
  7. 3 LEXIE
  8. 4 MARTY
  9. 5 BRENDAN PARRISH
  10. 6 LEXIE
  11. 7 DETECTIVE SERGEANT CARUSO
  12. 8 LEXIE
  13. 9 MARTY
  14. 10 CARUSO
  15. 11 LEXIE
  16. 12 TARA MURPHY
  17. 13 LEXIE
  18. 14 MARTY
  19. FRIDAY
  20. 15 LEXIE
  21. 16 BRENDAN
  22. 17 MARTY
  23. 18 TARA
  24. 19 CARUSO
  25. 20 LEXIE
  26. 21 BRENDAN
  27. 22 CARUSO
  28. 23 MARTY
  29. 24 BRENDAN
  30. 25 LEXIE
  31. 26 TARA
  32. SATURDAY
  33. 27 LEXIE
  34. 28 CARUSO
  35. 29 MARTY
  36. 30 TARA
  37. 31 LEXIE
  38. 32 BRENDAN
  39. SUNDAY
  40. 33 CARUSO
  41. 34 LEXIE
  42. 35 CARUSO
  43. 36 MARTY
  44. 37 TARA
  45. 38 LEXIE
  46. 39 BRENDAN
  47. 40 MARTY
  48. 41 LEXIE
  49. MONDAY
  50. 42 CARUSO
  51. 43 LEXIE
  52. 44 MARTY
  53. 45 LEXIE
  54. 46 BRENDAN
  55. 47 LEXIE
  56. 48 TARA
  57. 49 CARUSO
  58. 50 MARTY
  59. 51 LEXIE
  60. 52 LEXIE
  61. 53 CARUSO
  62. 54 LEXIE
  63. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

‘It’s moving day,’ he shouted.

Imogen gently extracted the truck from her son’s grip and glided it across the carpet towards Zoe.

‘Now, Thomas, they weren’t your toys to take.’

Sweet Imogen had her hands full with those boys. None of us other mums could tell Matthew or Thomas apart; they were both loud, determined and always getting into trouble. I imagined the boys must take after their father because Imogen was nothing like that. She marched Thomas to ‘time out’ by the toilet door.

Tara smiled gratefully at Imogen, patted Zoe on the back and picked up her phone—texting, Facebooking—she was addicted to that thing. The other children briefly glanced up at Thomas then went back to their own activities.

Bella had taken everything out of the dressing-up box and strapped on the wizard’s hat. Sammy was already wearing the matching purple cape. Bella twirled the magic wand in front of him.

‘I turn you to a … MOUSE! Ta-da!’

Sammy dropped to the floor, the cape tangled over his head. Bella’s giggles echoed around the room.

‘To the sandpit!’ Sammy shouted from beneath the purple material.

Mel smiled and waited to see if her son could disentangle himself. I needed to take some lessons from her in how to step back and let our children become more independent. Sammy flapped around with the cape, then smoothed it back into the right position.

I couldn’t stop myself from giving Bella an instruction.

‘Make sure you sit on the edge of the sandpit, darling. You can’t get sand inside your cast.’

As she rushed out of the door to the sandpit, Bella didn’t acknowledge my words. She was saying something to Sammy about her broken wrist. I caught the last few words—fell on the tiles—and prayed that none of the other mothers had heard.

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In the kitchenette, Julia handed a plastic cup of water to her daughter, Morgan, then took out the old china mugs from the cupboard. Usually, we all had a cuppa and a chat before organising the kids’ morning tea. I’d been the last to arrive, despite my counsellor’s suggestions on joining a group: arrive early and bring food. At least I had the biscuits.