‘Do I look all right?’ I’d asked Marty, worried that my dark green tunic was too dressy for a suburban Thai restaurant.

‘Sweetheart, you look lovely.’ He blew me a kiss from the couch, where he was watching the news.

When we first started dating, he’d been the one taking me out, surprising me with a new restaurant or a harbour cruise or theatre tickets. From the night we’d met at the museum charity ball, we spent as much time together as we could. Ever the gentleman, he’d collect me from my apartment in Bondi Junction, even though it was on the other side of the city from his place. I’d be dressed and waiting, butterflies tingling in my tummy. Later, we stayed awake talking until the early hours of the morning, sharing our stories and our secrets. I hid love notes under his pillow, in the fridge and rolled up in his coffee cup. Back then, we told each other everything.

The doorbell rang.

‘Please check on her every hour,’ I reminded Marty. ‘And don’t go into the spare room downstairs, my stuff is all over the place.’

‘Don’t worry about a thing.’

When I opened the front door, I saw that Tara was wearing jeans.

‘You’re dressed up,’ she said.

Tara tried to take a step inside but I hustled her out.

‘Let’s go. Bella is asleep and I don’t want her to wake.’

She peered over my shoulder, no doubt trying to catch a glimpse of my ‘hottie hubby’.

‘Nice house, Lexie. We should have morning tea here one day.’

I’d been trying to decide whether to have everyone over to our house for Bella’s birthday party rather than just take a cake into playgroup. Tara had been angling for an invitation. Apparently, she’d been to the open house when our place was for sale and she knew exactly how much we’d paid for it. Pulling the door shut behind me I wondered about Tara’s house. The others had been to her place many times, but so far I hadn’t been included. Tara implied money was tight but it sounded like they had all the mod cons and they’d just bought a new TV. None of that material stuff matters; it’s our hearts that matter, I wanted to say to her, but we weren’t quite at that point. Despite seeing her every week, I knew little of Tara’s life outside the kids. I could repeat the details of the girls’ births, Daisy’s sleep issues, Zoe’s constant tonsillitis, and the fact that her mother-in-law was always dropping in unexpectedly (‘I think she’s checking up on my housework and parenting skills’). But I didn’t know where Tara grew up or exactly what Josh did for a job.