Hazel diplomatically didn’t answer that.

Perhaps it was due to being on her own in the cottage for the morning, having all this time to think, but Maxie couldn’t stop going over every detail of Eliza’s life. Should she and Olivia have stepped in earlier? Would it have even been possible? What could they have done?

They could see it all so much more clearly now, now it was far too late. But it hadn’t ever been easy. Jeannie had always insisted she was managing, that she was getting enough work, that her part-time earnings alongside her pension were enough.

She and Olivia sent her what they could. Even so, their cheques were often not cashed. They sent parcels as often as possible instead. Books and clothes for Eliza. Treats for Jeannie, too. They were rarely acknowledged, but the two of them persevered, ringing her at least once a week. So much began to happen in their own lives. Maxie landed a key role on her popular soap opera. Olivia graduated top of her year in art history, and was offered a full-time job in the gallery she’d worked weekends in throughout university. Their weekly phone calls became fortnightly calls, then monthly calls.

But they still tried to visit Jeannie and Eliza, even if only for a night or two. They’d arrive with more gifts, spoil Eliza, genuinely delighting in their goddaughter: how tall she was getting, how sweet she was, how clever she was. They’d try not to show how surprised they were by how shabby the rental flat or house was, or to appear shocked when Jeannie told them that she’d decided to move yet again. They liked the change in scenery, she always told them. She and Eliza might not be able to travel the world together yet, but they could travel around Australia, couldn’t they?

It was only when they visited the year Eliza was eleven, for her school concert, that Jeannie told them she moved so often to avoid being arrested for shoplifting and burglary. When, fuelled by too much wine, they all spoke more than they had for years, as if they were back in the time of middle-of-the-night conversations and confidences whispered in their boarding school dormitory.

Maxie had admired a tall green vase in the kitchen and asked where Jeannie had got it.

‘I stole it,’ Jeannie said cheerily. ‘From the house beside the school, two towns ago. The owners worked full-time. It was easy.’

They’d laughed, thinking she was joking. Then stopped laughing when they realised she wasn’t.

Jeannie started pointing out different objects in the kitchen and living room. Telling them when and from where she’d taken them. Shops sometimes. Usually private homes.

‘Where was Eliza when you were doing this?’ Olivia asked, trying to hide her alarm.