On a far brighter note, Father has been asked to present a series of summer talks at the university in Sydney. If he accepts, he will be gone for at least a month and he plans to take Mother with him. She is saying, of course, that she cannot possibly leave me in this state. ‘Not until the child stops wallowing in permanent grey and pulls herself together,’ I heard her say. ‘The child’? Honestly!

Perhaps I will wear the red floral dress you bought me for my birthday a few years ago so she is convinced she can leave me here. Then I will have my peace back. I blame you entirely, Thomas Wilson. Until you went missing she was perfectly content to leave me be, even with you so far from home. But since you refuse to be found, she has been smothering me. She will not let me out of her sight and she fusses and barks instructions and has even, can you believe it, started looking for potential suitors for me. Just in case the worst should come to pass.

Yes, I think I will have to fool her into going with Father.

Happy Anniversary, my love.

I will bring more cheer when next I write, but for now I cannot disguise how desperately I miss you and how wretchedly my whole being aches each day that passes with no news.

My days are empty and nights bitter without you here with me. You must return to me soon.

Forever yours,

Ivy

Eight

The first attempt at chocolate-chip cookie dough ended up in the bin. How could flour, sugar and butter taste so bad? She’d followed the recipe, hadn’t she? She looked again at the app on her phone. One cup of flour. Check. One hundred and twenty-five grams of butter. Check. One cup of sugar. Che— Hang on. She picked up the canister of sugar and tasted its contents. Argh. Salt. No wonder.

‘Damn it.’ She threw the tea towel onto the table.

‘Anyone home?’ A familiar voice trilled down the hallway.

Nicole went over to the front door. ‘Come in.’

Mandy reached up to wipe the butter out of Nicole’s hair. ‘Oh my. What’s happened here?’

‘I was trying to bake. For you, actually. To say sorry for running out on you yesterday.’

‘Oh, Nicole. No need for that.’ Mandy shook her head. ‘It was an emotional day for both of us. What did you make?’

Nicole frowned.

‘Oh.’ Mandy steered Nicole to the kitchen. ‘Oh,’ she said again, taking in the mess. ‘Just as well I brought these with me.’

She held up the Tupperware container she had with her. It was filled with lamingtons.

After cleaning up the kitchen, they went out to the verandah. Nicole brought a pot of tea and mugs, while Mandy carried a plate piled high with her lamingtons.