The heat outside was still fierce, but Eliza barely noticed it on the walk to her apartment. In the foyer, she picked up her mail. Three advertising circulars and an envelope with her name typed on the front.

She opened it as she went up the stairs. There was a lift, but the hundreds of steps each day were her regular exercise. She stopped on the third landing, trying to take in the letter’s contents.

Dear Ms Miller,

I am writing to advise you that your landlord is returning from overseas and wishes to take occupancy of her apartment. As per your tenancy agreement, I’m henceforth giving you three months’ notice to vacate. We would like to take this opportunity to thank you for your excellent tenancy over the past eight years.

Inside her apartment, she sat down on her sofa, still holding the letter. She could feel the sting of tears, but she did her best to blink them away. She stared out the window at the flurry of dark clouds now buffeting across the sky.

For the hundredth, perhaps the thousandth, time in her life, she thought it.

I want my mum.

I want to talk to my mum.

It wasn’t possible.

She needed to talk to someone. She took out her phone, going to her most frequent contacts.

Top of the list was Rose, but Eliza never liked to ring her at this time of day. After graduating, Rose had married her childhood sweetheart Harry and gone back to live in her home town of Colac, two hours west of Melbourne. She was now busy with their three young kids and their stock supplies business. Eliza had stayed with them often enough to picture the scene: a cacophony of background noise, the kids having baths, the table being set, piano practice, Harry in the kitchen making elaborate meals and lots of mess. Rose always preferred long leisurely phone conversations late at night, enjoyed over a glass of wine.

Eliza scrolled down to the next two names. They were in alphabetical order. Maxie and Olivia. She was calculating the time difference, trying to decide who to call first, when the landline phone rang beside her. The caller’s name flashed up on the small screen.

Olivia.

It happened so often. One of her godmothers there just when she needed them, in person or on the phone. On the day of Eliza’s university graduation, Olivia had stood clapping and cheering when Eliza’s name was called and she stepped onto the stage. Maxie sent a big bunch of flowers when Eliza emailed them about getting the job with Gillian. Olivia sent her a department store voucher to buy a ‘work wardrobe’. Maxie surprised her with a visit on her twenty-first birthday, flying across the world to spend a long weekend with her. Olivia did the same for her thirtieth birthday.

Maxie had been the first to arrive at the hospital that night thirteen years ago, followed as quickly as possible by Olivia. The night Eliza had flown home after a wonderful holiday and —