“The girls are all here. Bree will be fine in a day or so, Kate’s more than able to help and Laura can do food. There’s plenty in the freezer and I’m sure Olive would help if you asked her nicely.” She’d smiled at him but he’d harrumphed, said good night and taken himself off to bed. She’d joined the others for the end of the movie and by the time she’d climbed into bed he’d been asleep.

This morning, with no local church service to attend, he’d gone off to the sheds first thing. They’d only had a brief time alone in the bedroom after breakfast when he’d come to find her as she’d packed her case. The damn Model Wife book had been on the floor where it must have fallen in the night from under her pillow. She’d shoved it in her case so he wouldn’t see it.

There were other things they should have discussed. She’d wanted to ask him then about what was going on with Connie and his mum. And there was Jack. If he was Milt’s son she’d thought she could deal with it, make a plan for the future so that everyone was taken care of, but sometime during her restless night, reality had hit her like a slap on the face. Natalie knew she was no longer strong enough to deal with a future where Milt confessed Jack as his son.

And there was Veronica. She must know the truth. Had she and Milt maintained a private connection over the years? Doubt and distrust had stripped her confidence in having a conversation with her husband. Better to go on as they were. She couldn’t envisage a future with everything out in the open and so she’d said nothing when he’d wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

“I’ll miss you,” he’d said.

She loved Milt’s big bear-like hugs. She’d nestled her face into his jumper, savouring his warm male scent mingled with the smell of oil from whatever he’d been working on in the shed. It was his words that had surprised her. She rarely went away alone, but he never admitted to missing her. She’d reciprocated, of course, felt remorse at the lack of feeling in her response. He’d picked up her case and they’d had no more time alone.

Natalie was startled from her reverie at the sound of the door opening behind her. She stood quickly, knocking the back of her chair. Ray Turner had one hand on the door handle. With shoulders slightly stooped, he blinked slowly, taking in the kitchen.

“Hello, Dad,” Bronwyn said. “Fancy a cuppa?”

“No thanks, love.” He glanced at Natalie. “You are here. I thought perhaps I’d imagined you.”