Once Cooper disappears through the front gate, she drives. Smokes a cigarette while completing aimless laps of suburban streets. Winds the windows down, drawing cold air into her lungs, happy to be lost. She pulls over at a 7-Eleven and buys a Cherry Ripe. She’s aware that she is avoiding going home but chooses not to analyse it. Plus, she reasons, swallowing the last of the chocolate bar, she thinks better when she drives.

Just as she decides to head home, Lily rings. ‘Are you working?’

‘Hi, Lily,’ replies Oli, turning back onto the highway. ‘How are you?’

‘Shaun’s stuck in Sydney, and I’m bored.’

Oli hesitates. ‘Well, as fate would have it, I’m actually about five minutes from your place.’

‘That’s weird.’

‘Very. Do you want me to come over?’

‘Are you spying on me or something?’

‘Do you want me to come or not, Lily?’

‘Of course. Beats drinking alone.’

Her sister hangs up, and tension settles across her shoulders. ‘Probably not a great idea,’ she mutters.

Lily and Shaun live in a sprawling Californian bungalow that’s in desperate need of work. It has four bedrooms, three of which were physical markers of the former Mrs Monroe’s fertility failures. These empty rooms became such a problem that Shaun ended up putting locks on the doors and sealing them off.

‘I mean, it’s not his fault she couldn’t have kids,’ Lily says, leading Oli down the wood-panelled hallway a few minutes later. They lift their legs high to step over a collection of paint tins and rollers. ‘Wine?’ Lily is already holding a bottle.

‘Just the one.’

Oli looks around the kitchen. Despite the wear and tear, the appliances are modern. A Thermomix takes pride of place on the bench; Lily regularly boasts that she uses it to make everything from cocktails to muesli. Photos plaster the fridge—Lily and Shaun in all kinds of exotic locations, shots of Lily and some women Oli doesn’t know dressed up at the races.

Lily hands her a generous glass of wine, and she looks at it doubtfully before taking a sip.

‘You’re not pregnant, then?’ Lily folds her arms disapprovingly.

Oli blinks, then looks back at the glass in her hand. ‘What? No. Jesus, Lily.’

‘Well, you better not wait too long, Ol. You’re not young, and you’ll want to get Dean on board while he’s still besotted with you enough to consider it.’

‘The twins are a lot already.’ Oli squeezes the glass so hard she worries it might break. ‘I don’t think you realise.’

Lily rips open a box of crackers, spilling them all over the bench. ‘I mean it’s true, I’m a childless ignoramus.’

‘Come on, Lily. I didn’t mean it like that.’