He took a beat to reply. ‘I hope we can work,’ he said. ‘But if we were only ever supposed to work in Australia, at least I helped you move on, you helped me move on …’

I couldn’t believe what he was saying. How had we got here?

‘Do you mean that?’ I asked, praying he didn’t. I hoped I’d misunderstood. I wanted to claw what we had back. I didn’t mean to make him feel like I didn’t prioritize him.

‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Your mother was right – it has all been so fast. I’m scared too, you know. But at least I’m gracious about it.’ He tutted, stopping himself from saying anything that could hurt me any further. ‘Go and see the baby. Move house. If we’re going to do this I need you to be sure, and until you’re sure … well. It’s not my shit to shovel, is it?’

‘I’m trying,’ I said. ‘I promise.’

He sighed. ‘I know,’ he said, eventually. ‘It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. Not yet.’

‘Okay,’ I said.

‘Okay,’ he replied.

I hung up feeling exposed and sad, but I didn’t want to take that into Jo’s private hospital room with me. As I held tiny Estelle Grace – named after Jo’s grandmother – in my arms, I told Jo she was perfect.

And then I cried, wondering how it was fair that life could be so beautiful and feel so hard, exactly like my grandmother had warned, all at the same time.

45

The night before moving day I’d walked around the house slowly – in a way, I suppose, saying goodbye. I stood in the kitchen and thought about all the meals cooked and passive-aggressive arguments seethed, and stared at myself in the bathroom mirror for a long time, finally deciding I liked how I looked. The next morning I piled everything I was leaving into one corner and threw a bedsheet over it so that there wouldn’t be any confusion when Dad and Freddie came to help, and sealed up the last two boxes of stuff that would be coming with me. I tried not to think about Patrick, because every time I did I wanted to call him, but when I rehearsed what to say every time a different version came out.

Let’s be friends.

I want to be with you.

Don’t break up with me.

Marry me.

You made me whole.

You ruined me.

I don’t know what I want – you choose!

The doorbell rang.

‘It’s us!’ Freddie said through the letterbox. ‘We’ve got a van!’

I opened the door to them, shocked to see that Mum was with them too.

‘You’re all here!’ I said, more than a little uneasy.

‘As instructed,’ Mum replied. ‘We couldn’t leave you to do this alone, could we?’