“How did she find out?” Bree had moved closer.

“A routine mammogram.”

“In the Breast Bus?”

“I guess so.”

“You had a mammogram last week, didn’t you?” Bree’s eyes were wide with concern.

“Yes.”

“That’s why you went to Adelaide on short notice. It wasn’t for the accountant. They found something, didn’t they?”

“Oh, Mum.”

“Not cancer.” Both Kate and Laura spoke at once.

“I don’t have cancer.” Natalie felt a weight drop from her shoulders as she said it, relieved to announce it out loud to someone else for the first time. “They found a small lump but it’s nothing bad, a cyst.”

“Mum,” the girls chorused in unison and threw their arms around her.

Natalie fought hard to paste a smile on her face. Until the relief of the call she’d received from the clinic earlier today she’d still held a small fear the biopsy might be positive. “I’m all right.”

“Hell’s teeth, what’s happened now?”

They stepped apart. From the corner of her eye Natalie glimpsed Milt, hands on hips, worry on his face. He’d dealt capably with the girls’ histrionics over the years, as long as it was one daughter at a time. More than two at once and he was stripped of his usual good sense and totally flummoxed.

“Mum’s been telling us about her scare and Mrs Halbot’s bad news,” Kate said.

“Yes, well, thankfully your mother’s fine.”

He shuffled from foot to foot like he did when he felt out of his depth. His hair was slicked back, still damp from the shower, and he’d changed into clean jeans and his favourite checked shirt. He glanced at her but Natalie turned away, moved further into the kitchen, her back to them, and dabbed at her eyes with her apron. He was right. She was safe and she had all that mattered to her in the world, her girls and Milt. She’d lost her way for a moment but she could feel the pieces of her life begin to settle back into place. Perhaps telling her girls she didn’t have cancer was what she’d needed. Like opening a valve to release pressure.

“Your mother’s told you not to mention any of this while Jack’s here.”

Natalie composed her face, turned back. “I hadn’t yet.”

Milt looked at each of the girls. “I think it’s best we don’t.”

“What if he says something?” Laura asked.

Milt frowned. “We respond in whichever way’s appropriate.”

“It seems an awful thing to say.” Kate gripped her hands together. “But I’m glad it’s not you going through this, Mum.”

“We’ve got a lot to be thankful for,” Milt said. “It’s poor Veronica who’s drawn the short straw.”