And perhaps everything would have been different if Jeannie and Eliza had stayed there, Olivia thought now. If Mr and Mrs Quaker hadn’t decided to take that daytrip to Melbourne two weeks after Eliza’s first birthday, heading off after breakfast in their reliable old Toyota. If the driver of the semitrailer on the same highway had slept more the previous week, and not taken caffeine tablets to keep him awake. If he hadn’t decided to light his cigarette at the moment that he was coming abreast with the Quakers’ car. If he hadn’t sideswiped them, killing Mr Quaker outright, giving Mrs Quaker severe brain injuries, putting her into hospital for the next two months until she died of complications caused by a bacterial infection. If their next of kin, a grand-niece in Toronto, hadn’t instructed the family solicitors to put their house on the market immediately. If Jeannie, and little Eliza, hadn’t been given their notice and had to move not just house but towns, when nothing cheap enough was available where they were. The first of many moves, many new towns, many new houses, over the next sixteen years.

Did Eliza know any of that story? Olivia wondered now. Or had Jeannie told her some of it, embroidered other parts, or made up an entirely different story instead? There was no way of knowing, she realised. Not until the three of them sat down together and talked.

Chapter Eighteen

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Maxie was alone in the cottage in the Highlands. Hazel had driven to the nearest town for supplies and to check her work emails. The phone coverage was very patchy, they’d discovered.

It had been a wonderful honeymoon so far. Not that Maxie had another to compare it to, but theirs had felt enchanted. The cottage was in the wildest of locations but was filled with such luxurious contents. They’d enjoyed delicious food and wine every evening. Early nights and sleep-ins. Days of fresh air and walking. They were treasuring every lungful of that fresh Highlands air, talking so often about what their lives would be like soon in New York.

Maxie hadn’t only been thinking about New York. She knew Hazel had noticed how preoccupied she sometimes was. How anxious she was about the conversation she’d soon be having with Eliza and Olivia.

‘What did you think of Eliza?’ Maxie had asked as they drove to the cottage on their wedding night.

‘I liked her very much,’ Hazel said. ‘She’s smart. Witty. She loves you both dearly.’

‘We love her dearly back,’ Maxie had replied.

Over the following days, she’d tried to imagine Eliza’s reaction once she’d heard what they had to tell her. Would it be tears? Anger? An icy silence?

Hazel tried to keep her calm. ‘You might have it completely wrong. Eliza didn’t strike me as the melodramatic type.’

‘Are you saying I am?’