Tony changed too. He cooed over his new daughter and took endless photos to post to his mother. He bought a set of Lego bricks, and Val didn’t dare tell him they were dangerous for a newborn, so she just kept a close eye to make sure Nicole didn’t stick one in her mouth. They grew closer as they admired their daughter’s wobbly first steps and giggled at her made-up toddler words. When Tony swung her in the air or let her clamber over him, his eyes all soft and affectionate, Val could almost love him again the way she used to before they were married. He’d kept his part of the marital bargain, getting a decent if dull job in finance, and buying them a house with a garden and a car apiece. If only it weren’t for his temper, and his desire to control her every move, perhaps she could have been content.

Nicole chatted on the way to preschool that morning, asking food questions: “What do you like better? Chips or yogurt?”

“Yogurt,” Val said.

“Vegemite or ham sandwiches?”

“Definitely ham. Poo-ee to Vegemite.”

Nicole laughed. This was their little joke. Tony liked Vegemite but Val had to hold her nose while spreading it for him because she loathed the smell.

“Apples or ’nanas?” Nicole persisted.

She took the answers very seriously, cataloging them in her brain, and Val knew she would remember months later: “You said you like apples best, Mommy.”

It seemed a miracle that Nicole had been born with a talent for happiness when neither of her parents was happy, but so it was. At preschool, she was greeted by a throng of little girls and trotted in after giving Val a quick hug, utterly confident in her own skin.

Val turned the car toward Bondi Junction, and almost immediately hit a traffic snarl-up. It was a stifling day and gas fumes wafted through the open window along with the noise of some idiot leaning on their horn. Only now did she allow herself to think about the prospect of seeing her father after seventeen years, and it made her shudder. Even with dementia, she was sure time would not have mellowed him. Did he still drink as much? Did he cry crocodile tears for Mother Russia when he was drunk?