Now she sunk to the chair. One hand clutched the book and the other hovered over the cover. She felt the gnaw of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. Finding the book again was a bad omen, surely, if she believed in those things. She drew a breath, whipped it open and immediately she was back to the night she’d shown it to Milt.

They’d just hopped into bed. She’d hidden the book under the sheet and swept it out to show Milt as if she was letting a genie out of a bottle. Little did she know she was letting something out, but it wasn’t a kind genie. She could still hear the laughter that had been in her voice.

“Look what your mother gave me today.”

“An old book.” Milt’s tone was sceptical.

“It was your grandmother’s.”

He took it from her. “The Model Wife.” Then he looked at her with that rakish gleam in his eye that turned her insides to mush. “I’ve got one of those already.”

“Look inside,” she urged then rested her chin on his shoulder and cuddled against his naked back as they both read the writing on the flyleaf.

The top inscription was in fading brown ink. For my daughter Charlotte on the occasion of her marriage to Thomas King with all my love Mother. October 1935. Olive had told her Charlotte was Olive’s mother-in-law who had come from England to marry Thomas King, a man she hardly knew. Underneath was another neatly written message, in blue ink this time. To Olive my new daughter-in-law with best wishes for a happy marriage from Charlotte. April 1957. And then in black biro written in Olive’s tidy cursive: To Natalie, welcome to the family from Olive. July 1985.

“I didn’t know Mum had this.” Milt traced his finger gently down the page. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it.”

“It’s meant for the women in the family.”

“Why didn’t she give it to Connie then?”

“She said it should go to the eldest and if the eldest was a boy then to his wife.” Olive had explained that when Natalie had asked the same question. Natalie thought it was more about Olive thinking Connie already had all the makings of a model wife, qualities Natalie apparently lacked.

Milt turned to the contents page, glanced down then turned to the first chapter and roared with laughter.

“A Husband is Master.”

“Yes, my lord,” she said in a subservient voice and laughed too. She snuggled closer, enjoying the intimacy they only had alone at night. The quarters where they slept had originally been fully separate, but years earlier when the house roof had been replaced it had been extended to include the old quarters, which now connected via a door to the main passage. Even though it was basic Natalie had thought of it as her haven.