Grace’s face was slimmer in this one; the puppy fat gone, the lines of her face more angular. Although she didn’t wear much make-up, I’d curled and thickened her lashes with mascara, made her lips gleam with a little rosy gloss, and groomed her eyebrows. Other than that, her skin was bare, with the gleam of porcelain about it. Light reflected off the tops of her cheekbones and down her perfect, straight nose, and there was a smattering of freckles across her cheeks, faint under her tan, which gave the impression of a summer spent in the sunshine. In her lobes, her earrings glimmered.

I reached out and traced my finger across her cheek on the canvas.

‘Yes, perfect,’ I said softly, then I cleaned my brushes and headed down.

‘I thought we could have a girls’ night in,’ Grace said. ‘You know, paint our nails, do a face mask, listen to some music. You used to love doing that.’ She laughed, and not in a nice way. ‘It was all you ever wanted to do.’

I smiled, a little blindsided, and Grace smiled back. She’d changed out of whatever it was she’d worn to work and was sitting at the kitchen table with a drink and a saucer of vegetable chips and now she raised her glass to me. ‘Cheers, by the way.’

I raised mine back. ‘Cheers. To your first day. How was it?’

Grace popped a chip in her mouth and crunched. ‘Yeah. Good,’ she said. ‘No major dramas.’

‘Well, I guess that’s good,’ I said. ‘Easy start. Did the people seem nice?’

‘Yeah.’

I waited for her to elaborate but she said nothing more. In the end, I spoke. ‘Did you find the clothes you’d ordered? I hope you didn’t mind that I opened them.’

She shrugged. ‘Yeah. No worries.’

‘I was going to hang them, but…’

She gave a little pff of a laugh. ‘The wardrobe was full?’

‘Yes! Why did you do that? They stink! And the toys? How can you sleep with that Jack-in-the-Box watching you?’

She shrugged and popped a chip in her mouth. ‘I just felt that they might like to be there. They probably used to be there. It’s their home. What right did I have to keep them squashed up in a box?’

‘They’re old clothes. They don’t care. They’ve probably got moths in them. And they make the wardrobe smell. We should throw them away.’

‘Chill out, Brussel sprout! It’s no big deal, is it? I think it’s kinda cute.’

‘Well… if you don’t mind your clothes smelling musty…’

‘Exactly. It’s my issue.’ She took another chip. ‘So, I’m starving. What’s for dinner?’

Anger jabbed at me. ‘I haven’t had a chance to make anything yet.’