And that’s just it. She hurtled into her fantasy future at an alarming speed, going from her simple carefree life to one of pressure and predictability. Dean is so intent on being a unit, desperate to avoid repeating his mistakes. But it also feels like he believes the only one of them who needs to compromise is Oli. She probably should appreciate his wealthy lifestyle, but instead she feels trapped in the stupidly large house and frustrated that her career seems suddenly expected to take a back seat. Kate and Amy bring out an awkwardness in her, an oafishness that makes her feel not only completely inadequate but also hopelessly inferior to her predecessor. Isabelle.

Her presence lingers in the house like the fragrance of a secret lover, her death still as shocking as a slap. If Isabelle was alive, she and Dean would be together. Everyone must think it, but it’s not something Oli can talk to him about. Expressing her feelings about being runner-up to a ghost is impossible.

She massages her temples. And what about her? Would she still be with Rusty? Sweet, simple Rusty, who happily ate cereal for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Rusty, who read his star sign every day and drove around on an empty tank of petrol as though it was a masculinity test. Unlike Dean, he wasn’t prepared for every circumstance, but he was sweet. Patient. His problem-solving approach was gung-ho but cheerful. He gave her space and knew her job came first. He just didn’t make her crazy, not in a good or a bad way.

When she glances in the mirror, she looks surprisingly alert considering her lack of sleep. This story has unlocked some of her old energy, a charged sensation that has her limbs buzzing and her mind alive.

She puts her foot on the accelerator. A few hundred metres along the road a large truck blocks the road in front of her, and a short, stocky woman in high-vis tilts a stop sign, directing Oli to turn right down a side street. Cursing, she weaves the car along unfamiliar roads, following the detour signs. She comes to a T-intersection on Myer Street and quickly reorients herself, turning right toward the city. She passes a primary school and a community centre. A magpie swoops low, almost hitting the windscreen, and she ducks involuntarily. Her foot goes to the floor, and the car skids to a halt.