‘I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t important, I promise. She’s the only one in this town without any family nearby. Please, can you both come? For her? For me?’

Olivia had fortuitously been back in Australia at the time, visiting her family. Maxie had still been living and working in Sydney. That three-night stay with Jeannie and Eliza shocked them both. The house Jeannie and Eliza shared was so run-down. Jeannie’s fragility was immediately apparent. So was her heavy drinking. But they’d also seen firsthand Jeannie’s intense love for her daughter. Their close bond. Eliza was the best thing that ever happened to her, Jeannie said often, over too much wine each evening.

It had been an important weekend in so many ways. Maxie and Olivia realised they needed to pay more attention to their goddaughter. That Jeannie needed more support, not only financial but practical. On the second night, while Jeannie was helping Eliza get ready for bed, they’d hatched up the holiday idea between them.

It hadn’t gone down well. Jeannie was fiercely proud. She didn’t want their charity, she’d practically spat. She’d already drunk three times as much wine as them. Eliza was now asleep down the hallway. They’d chosen their words carefully, spoken softly, slowly defusing Jeannie’s temper.

It wasn’t a question of charity, they insisted. Jeannie would be doing them a favour. Neither of them had children yet. Jeannie was the lucky one, a mother already. That’s all they were asking, that Jeannie share her beautiful Eliza with them. And yes, of course they’d cover all the costs. Spoil her rotten. What had she expected, a birthday card and a packet of hankies once a year? No, they continued, hoping their lighthearted tone was hitting the right mark, Jeannie was just going to have to accept it. They’d whisk Eliza away on two godmotherly holidays a year, in Australia or even overseas sometimes, and that was that.

‘We’ll supply you with all the receipts, of course,’ Maxie joked.

‘We also expect Eliza to pay us back in the years ahead,’ Olivia said.

‘We have an ulterior motive, obviously,’ Maxie said. ‘We spoil her now with all these exotic holidays. When we’re old and grey, she visits us in our nursing homes.’

‘To fill our drips with gin,’ Olivia said.

‘Spoon the finest of pureed food into our drooling mouths,’ Maxie said.

‘Nursing homes plural?’ Jeannie said, smiling by then. ‘No way. We’ll end up in the same one, won’t we? In the same room. Three beds in a row.’ She’d lifted her glass and made them toast the idea.

‘Together till the end!’ Jeannie had shouted, before laughing, also too loudly. ‘Wouldn’t Sister Teresa spin in her grave at the idea! All those years she tried to separate us!’

They spent the rest of the evening reminiscing about their Catholic boarding school days. It still caused them great hilarity, the idea of them being sent to such a strict and religious school. What on earth had their parents been thinking? That they might consider becoming nuns themselves?