By the time Clare was born, Faye was pregnant with Zach. When they discovered they were expecting a boy, Derek was disappointed. He wanted a daughter too, imagining it might somehow even things out. Every time he saw Clare, as a baby, toddler, adolescent and teenager, he imagined she and he shared characteristics. The length of their limbs. The sharpness of their features. He’d calculated the months, weeks and days to her birth and continued to believe Clare could be his daughter. Sometimes, often even, when life disappointed him, he fantasised how one day Michelle would stop denying the girl’s paternity and her love for him. But, unable to dismiss the painful memory of having twice been seduced and then rejected by Michelle, he didn’t challenge her about it again until Clare came back to town after her first year at university.

Derek learned about the girl’s illness when he overheard Faye and Zach in the kitchen one morning. He was eating muesli while his son, home for the holidays, and Faye were whisking eggs for their breakfast.

“You won’t recognise her,” said Zach.

“Really? Did you talk to her?” asked Faye.

“No. Just said hello. Angus was ready to go, so we left right away.”

The mention of Michelle’s son’s name got Derek’s attention. “Who are you talking about?”

“Clare,” said Zach. “She’s anorexic. So skinny. It’s . . . it’s really shocking.”

“What? Anorexic? Since when? What the hell happened?”

Faye and Zach looked at him across the kitchen in surprise. He’d spoken loudly.

“Well?” he said, raising his brows at his son.

“I only know the little Angus told me. She hasn’t been home since uni started and, it seems, hasn’t eaten—well, not much anyway, while she’s been away.”

“But what happened?”

“What do you mean? To stop her eating? I don’t know.” Zach turned to his mother. “Does something happen to trigger it?”

Faye lifted her shoulders. “I don’t think so. It’s—”

“Something must have happened.” Derek stood up. “A person doesn’t simply stop eating.”

His wife and son were silent as he left the room.

He dialled Michelle’s cellphone number shortly afterwards.

“Do you have an hour to meet an old friend sometime in the next day or so?”

“Derek? Are you okay?”

“Yes. Just something I need to talk to you about.”

“Okay. I’m listening.”

He waited a beat. “I’d rather do it in person. Can we meet? Have a cup of coffee?”