That Monday morning, as usual, Eliza heard her boss arrive before she saw her. Gillian spent ninety per cent of her working day on the phone. Eliza handed her the coffee as she appeared, receiving a brisk nod in return. Gillian was perfectly groomed, as ever. Eliza had learned how to dress in corporate style by observation. Rose often teased her about Gillian’s influence. ‘You were practically a hippy when we met. Now you’re so sleek I’m scared of you. Come back, Old Eliza!’

It wasn’t a matter of Old or New Eliza. It was Necessary Eliza. If she wanted the safe routine and security of a good job, she had to play by the rules. Look the part. Gillian had insisted.

‘Neutral colours, thank you, Eliza. Classic suits. Hair back. Dress smart, think smart, be smart.’

She listened now as Gillian paced around the open-plan office, finishing her call. Her boss had a separate glass-walled cubicle, but was rarely in it. She’d told Eliza she preferred to keep her staff of ten on their toes. Eliza gathered that Gillian was negotiating a fee for a popular speaker, presumably for the conference they were organising for a science firm in Brisbane the following March.

After reaching a deal, Gillian put down the phone.

‘Morning, Eliza,’ she said. ‘Good weekend?’ She didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she put her hands on her hips and leaned back, making her heavily pregnant belly appear even rounder. She was expecting twin girls. When the babies arrived in two months’ time, Gillian and Kevin, her lawyer husband, would have four children under the age of six.

Eliza never wondered how Gillian ‘did it all’. She saw it in action every day. Gillian was constantly on the move, networking with clients and suppliers, firing instructions via email to Eliza at every step. She also knew how Gillian and her husband managed at home: day and night nannies. Eliza had sat in on many of those interviews. Gillian went through a lot of nannies.

Eliza and Gillian always started each day with their coffee and a ten-minute meeting. Eliza had established the routine, as well as streamlining their other office processes. Gillian called Eliza the Queen of Lists. ‘All bow to our meticulous majesty,’ she’d said once to the staff at a company meeting. They’d laughed obediently. But it was true. Eliza was obsessively organised. She loved lists. They’d been special to her as a child. They kept her life running smoothly now.

That day, however, instead of sticking to Eliza’s printed agenda, Gillian pushed it to one side.

‘I have news, Eliza.’

Eliza felt a prickle of alarm. ‘Is it the babies?’

‘The babies are great. It’s work news.’

Eliza picked up her notebook.

‘You won’t need that.’

Eliza put it down. ‘Good news, I hope?’

‘Wonderful news.’ Gillian smiled. ‘I’ve sold the company.’

Eliza blinked.

‘It was an offer I couldn’t refuse,’ Gillian said. ‘A takeover. All my clients. All my existing contracts. All my current and future conferences.’