“There’s ice-cream sponge in the freezer.” She felt like ramming it in his face but restrained herself.

She walked slowly so as not to wake Nicole, and laid her carefully on the bed. She managed to strip off her school skirt and blouse and slipped her under the covers in her undershirt and panties, then sat by the bedside, thinking hard.

Suddenly it came to her that her depression over the last two months hadn’t been about her father’s death; it had been about her subservience in a loveless marriage. Becoming an orphan had focused her mind on her own mortality and made her assess her life—and she couldn’t bear what she saw.

She would have to plan her departure carefully, arranging everything in advance. If she waited till the beginning of March, when Tony gave her the housekeeping money, there should be enough to pay a month’s rent somewhere cheap. Peggy would help out with furniture; she had stacks of it in the attic from her great-aunt’s house. Better not to let Tony get wind of it. If she presented him with a fait accompli, he would accept it eventually, and when they came to a settlement, she should get the money from the sale of her father’s house. It would be a lifesaver.

During the next two weeks, Val often felt terrified about what she was planning, but whenever she looked at her daughter’s swollen knuckles, she knew she had no choice. She found a one-bedroom flat not far from the waterside in Balmain—just a box of a place on the first floor of a large, decrepit house, with a stove, fridge, and sink along one wall of the living room and a toilet and shower in a closet off the bedroom. Peggy borrowed her brother’s van and drove over with an old bed, table, and chairs to furnish it.

Then one Saturday morning, while Tony was playing golf, Val packed all her and Nicole’s possessions into the car and, with shaking hand, wrote a note for him and propped it on the kitchen table.

I’m leaving you, it said, and taking Nicole. From pure force of habit, she added a PS: There’s a casserole in the fridge.

She took Nicole’s hand and led her out to the car, feeling lighter than she had in years.

Chapter 13

The Ural Mountains, July 17, 1918