‘Jesus,’ Oli mutters. ‘I’m just busy.’

‘She’s a nightmare, I know, but I would appreciate it if you’d call her—or, even better, take the girls over there and let her pretend she has grandchildren for a few hours. Get her off my arse.’

‘I’ll call her.’

‘My therapist says that it makes sense you gravitated toward an instant family.’

‘What?’ Oli rolls her eyes impatiently. ‘Why is your therapist talking about me?’

‘Sometimes we talk about you when I’m avoiding my own issues.’

‘I really wish you wouldn’t do that.’

Lily shrugs. ‘You can go to therapy and talk about me.’

‘Fuck off, Lily.’

‘Hey.’ She puts her hands in the air. ‘You should go to therapy, and you know it. You never unpacked everything that happened with dad. Nor did you work through why you ditched Rusty and rushed into things with Dean.’

‘Dad has nothing to do with Dean!’

Lily folds her arms across her chest, causing her collarbones to flex above her white singlet top.

Oli is tempted to slap her across the face. ‘I did go to therapy. Several times. I just didn’t feel the need to talk about it.’ She remembers the awkward hours spent in the psychologist’s room.

Lily splashes more wine into her glass. Her wrist is so fine, her fingers long and thin. The bigger Oli gets, the smaller Lily gets. Her father’s old chant rings in her mind: Pretty Lily, jolly Oli. He sensed a weakness in her, something that didn’t exist in Lily. Is it still there? Is she walking around inviting people to take advantage of her?

Sipping her wine, Lily cocks her head. Little lines form around her lips, making her look alarmingly like their mother. ‘How is your work going, anyway?’

Oli looks at her, surprised.

‘I read your articles, you know. All of them.’

‘It’s fine, it’s busy.’

‘I wonder where she is. The housemate, I mean. Nicole Horrowitz.’

‘I don’t know. Doing what she does best, it seems—running away.’

‘Maybe someone is helping her hide. There’s probably plenty of sickos out there who’d get a thrill out of harbouring a fugitive. People looking for some excitement in their lives.’

‘Maybe you should ease up on the therapy.’

‘I’m serious! You reckon she has a kid now, right? Maybe they’re holed up with the father. Or she could have blackmailed him to help her, threatened the life of the kid if he refuses—I mean, she’s clearly a total psycho.’

‘Lily, you have no idea what you’re talking about. Did you see the news tonight? They might both be dead at the bottom of the Yarra!’ ‘Nah, the car was a ploy. And she’s as guilty as sin, I’ve always thought it.’

Oli rinses her wineglass, puts it in the sink. ‘Unfortunately, I’m only interested in facts.’