“Your lunch is still here, Bree.” Laura came back to the door carrying a plate with a sandwich covered in plastic wrap. They all turned to look at her.

“What?” she said.

“Remember to keep your mouth shut about the baby when Granny comes,” Bree said.

“I told you I can keep a secret.” Laura shoved the plate at Bree and strode back into the kitchen.

“Thanks.” Bree’s stomach gave a welcome growl. She was hungry.

Laura had the roast on and the vegetables ready to go. She was planning dessert but so far nothing appealed and it was hard to concentrate with her dad muttering and mumbling between intermittent hammering. He’d stopped for the moment and was inspecting the inside of the doorframe. She flicked idly through the pile of cookbooks she’d spread out on the table in front of her. She was tired of being responsible for meals: organising the meat, the fresh fruit and vegetables, cooking every night, cleaning up the inevitable mess that seemed to come from her every attempt. This wasn’t why she’d given up hairdressing and come home. Although she was still no closer to resolving what the future looked like, she knew it wasn’t being a full-time cook for the family.

“How’s it going, love?”

She hadn’t heard her dad come up beside her.

“I’m trying to find something for dessert but I’m fed-up. I don’t know how Mum does it. She makes it look so easy.”

Milt sat down beside her. “Years of experience. And she does enjoy cooking.”

“So do I. But not day after day, night after night, trying to come up with something interesting.” Laura put her head in her hands and groaned. “What am I going to do?”

“Are we still talking about dinner or something else?”

Laura groaned again. “My life is a mess.”

“Not from where I’m sitting.”

She looked up, tugged at her hair. “You’ve seen my hair, my tattoo.”

“Yes, I have. You’re braver than me on both counts.”

“Stupider, you mean.”

“I don’t think that’s a word.” He grinned. “That’s all superficial stuff anyway. You said the hair would wash out and you were right, it’s fading already. I guess you’re stuck with the tat, although I believe there’re ways to have them removed if that’s what you want. But they’re not the sum of who you are, love. You’re bright, creative and talented in so many ways.”

He was studying her with such love in his look it brought a lump to her throat. “I’ve thrown in a perfectly good job and now I’ve got nothing.”