“I’m good with dogs,” she said, although as far as Val was aware, she hadn’t known any others.

Val had worried what they might talk about and whether there would be awkward silences, but they chatted about Bess, then about kites, and cycling. Nicole had not yet learned to ride a bike, and when she told Bill, he offered to teach her, then glanced quickly at Val to see if he was overstepping the mark.

“That’s very kind,” she said, wondering if he had meant to make such a big promise.

When she went to the bathroom, she had a chance to look around the house. It had wooden floors and basic furniture, little in the way of ornament, but it was clean and tidy. A surfboard painted in pink and purple swirls stood against one wall, a bookshelf was built into an alcove, and there was a large TV in the corner. It was a man’s house but it looked comfortable. All the time she was collecting information, storing it away. Who was this person? Could she trust him? Would he ever hit her or break her bones? She hadn’t known many decent men in her life: there was Peggy’s husband, and a few of their friends, but otherwise she’d been let down by every man she had ever come across.

After lunch, they went to the beach. Val was shy taking off her sundress to reveal her figure in a swimsuit, but Bill set her mind at rest by winking in a way that was appreciative without being lascivious. He seemed lankier and more angular in his trunks than with his clothes on—all elbows and knees and skinny torso. He and Nicole ran down the beach with a big psychedelic-patterned kite, shrieking with laughter as it nearly lifted her off the ground.

Val sat on a towel watching, and a sensation of immense peace came over her. Maybe, just maybe, this was going to be all right.

Chapter 47

Sydney, January 1976

BILL BEGAN TO VISIT VAL’S HOUSE ON WEEKENDS, AND good as his word, he taught Nicole to ride a bike. He was so tall it must have strained his back to bend double, holding onto the saddle so she didn’t fall, but he persevered until she was confident enough to wobble down the road on her own. Val cooked her best dishes for him and he was appreciative, always insisting on doing the washing up. He left in time to catch the last ferry back to Manly, kissing her on the front step. The kisses lasted longer now, and there was a warm hug to go with them, but he never once asked if he could stay over.

“Maybe he’s gay,” Peggy suggested.

Val shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Why don’t you make the first move? Then you’ll find out.”