‘I’m worried what I’ll do,’ Joe says.

‘To Evan?’

‘No. I have a plan for Evan. I don’t know.’

‘To Frannie?’

‘To the people I care about the most,’ Joe says, sidestepping the direct question. He balls his fists up on the table. ‘This stress, you know? It lives in me.’

‘What kind of a conversation is this?’ she asks.

Joe’s mouth moves in the vague direction of a smile at their family joke. ‘I don’t know,’ he lies. All he can think is that if Frannie weren’t here any more, none of them would have any problems.

Cathy nods, just once. ‘What’s the plan for Evan?’

‘I’m going to tell him we’ll rip up the agreement if he comes back for more. Nobody knows about it. We haven’t registered it anywhere. If he tried to sell his share, we could all stop him.’

‘Good,’ Cathy says softly, then leaves his kitchen. He doesn’t hear her close the front door behind her, she does it so quietly, almost as though she were never there at all.

61.

Cathy

It’s the end of the day. Cathy and Frannie are in the backroom, Frannie has on red tasselled earrings, some attempted grab at normality, no doubt, but they only seem to highlight her skinny cheeks and pallor. Nevertheless, it’s good, in a way, to see her trying. ‘Going out?’ Cathy says.

‘Yeah. Mum and Dad have Paul. Just going to go for a quick burger with Deb. Come if you want.’

‘I’m fine,’ Cathy says, waving Frannie away, hoping she doesn’t talk too indiscreetly with her. ‘Nice earrings.’

‘Thanks,’ Frannie says, standing framed in the doorway. ‘Haven’t had a chance to do my make-up or hair.’ She smiles in a breathless sort of way at Cathy. ‘It’s been one of those days.’

‘Isn’t it always?’ Cathy says.

‘I’m late already,’ Frannie says. ‘But, while I remember, the eye drops are out of stock again. So we’re back on the ointment.’

‘Okay.’

‘You all right?’ she adds, her head tilted slightly to one side. Cathy finds herself, despite everything, wondering how her sister knows how to act so beautifully. As though she chooses even the way the light hits her features.

‘Oh, yeah. Fine. Going to spend some time organizing stuff here.’

‘Okay,’ Frannie says, waving a hand as she leaves, but, as she walks away, Cathy sees that her features have fallen, just slightly, as though she is disappointed in Cathy.

The door closes behind her, and Cathy stands with her hands on her hips, surveying the room. She wants immersion. Not thinking about her siblings or the man they killed or how she has burdened Tom with it. They parted ways the other night, and he said he’d be in touch, but he hasn’t. She’s just … waiting. They all are.

Their cleaner Joanie arrives, carting the Henry Hoover awkwardly by her side. She’s blonde, with tanned skin and impossibly long nails that reach a fine point at their ends.

Cathy works alongside her, as she has done a thousand times before on Friday nights. She does it without thinking, the way she always has.