She had never forgotten it. As she had also never forgotten Rory quietly coming over to her later that same night, after Edgar had sent Alex to his room. She had been sitting on her own in the family’s living quarters, blinking back tears, wondering if she was going to be any good at this stepmother business. She’d looked up to see Rory, aged eleven, standing in front of her, his forehead furrowed.

‘Please don’t cry, Olivia,’ he’d said. ‘You’re not my mother either but I still think we’re going to get on very well indeed.’

Such a funny formal speech, possibly copied from a film he’d seen, but it made her heart swell. It felt the most natural thing in the world to open her arms to him. He’d stepped forward and she’d given him a hug. She’d never told Edgar, but she’d always loved Rory that bit more from that moment on.

She glanced up at the screens. Eliza’s flight had just landed. She made her way over to the arrivals area, passing a bank of TVs as she walked. They were tuned to a news channel, reporting on record prices paid for a contemporary painting at a New York art auction. It was an extremely ugly painting. ‘What a waste of money,’ Edgar would have said. ‘Where’s the beauty in it? Who would possibly want that hanging in their house or gallery?’

It gave her such comfort that she could still imagine conversations with Edgar. He’d always been old-school in his artistic taste. Just as well, or he’d never have had to hire the services of one of Australia’s top young experts in modern art during his Sydney buying trip. In their years together, they’d enjoyed many spirited arguments. Many passionate sessions of making up afterwards, too.

Oh, she missed him so much. Not only his wit, his company, his wisdom, his kindness. She missed the spark between them, how playful he was in private, compared to his chilly public persona. The way he’d hold her tightly after they made love. The surprises he’d give her: a piece of antique jewellery, a bouquet of spring flowers. So thoughtful and loving. And now so far away from her, his body alive, but his mind long succumbed to confusion and bewilderment.

Passengers from Eliza’s flight started to appear. Olivia took a deep breath, making herself focus on the present, not mourn for the past. Yes, life could be so sad. But it could also be beautiful. Like now. Her darling Eliza was about to arrive. At last.

CHAPTER TWELVE

They spotted one another immediately.

‘You made it, you made it, you’re here,’ Olivia said, hugging her close.

Eliza hugged her back. ‘I’m sorry it took me so long.’

‘Was the flight all right?’ ‘I survived the flight!’

They laughed at the clashing sentences.

‘I’m so happy to see you,’ Olivia said as they started walking to the exit. ‘Can you stay for a year?’

‘I might need to. I never want to get back on a plane again.’