‘Dad –’ Rachel started.

‘I’ve made mistakes,’ he said over the top of her. ‘But you can’t really believe that I would hurt your mother, can you?’ His tone was pleading.

Dad held her gaze for several moments, before his face fell.

‘I just wish I understood, Rachel. Why would you start thinking this now? Did I ever lay a hand on you or your sister?’

‘No,’ she said.

‘Did your mother seem unhappy in her marriage to me?’

Rachel thought about that. Her parents had had their moments, but overall the answer was no: Pam hadn’t seemed unhappy. Her mother adored her father. Rachel had never known her mother to shrink away from Dad or be afraid to voice a contrary perspective. They always seemed like a strong couple who respected each other’s opinions and beliefs, even when they differed. That was what made her suspicions now so confusing.

‘Listen, I know you want to figure out what that hot-water bottle money was for. I’d like to know too. I wish we could just ask your mother. There are a million times every day that I’d like to ask your mother something. I’d like to know if she remembers who I am, and if she knows who Heather is. I’d like to know if she understands how much we all love her. But there’s so much in this world that we will never know, Rachel.’

He sounded so sad, it stirred something in Rachel. Something intangible and slippery – a little like doubt. After all, it was possible that she’d got the wrong end of the stick. It was possible that she’d let her desire for closure, an answer to the mystery, cloud her judgement. It was possible that, just as Tully was shoplifting all over town, this was her way of grieving her mother.

It was possible.

‘It might be too much to ask,’ Dad said, ‘but more than anything I’d love to hear you say that you believe I’d never hurt your mother. The idea that you think I could, it just . . . it keeps me awake at night.’

Me too, she thought.

‘I don’t want you to say it if it’s not true,’ he said. ‘But if it is true, it would mean everything to hear you say it.’

Around them, the party hummed on. A waiter offered a guest a canapé. Someone tittered with laughter. And they were inside a little bubble right in the middle of it all. Dad looked like he might cry. Rachel wanted to say it more than anything. The instinct to please her father ran deep, even now. She opened her mouth, tried curving it around the words she needed to say. But no matter how she tried, she couldn’t bring herself to utter them.

57

HEATHER

This was her life, Heather thought. This was her life.

She was sipping champagne and nibbling canapés and laughing. The restaurant was fancy, but low-key. The guests were interesting and intelligent. The family was here, even the little boys, who tore around the place creating happy mischief. Stephen had invited some colleagues, all very nice people who congratulated her and wished her well. Mary, who’d become something of a close friend these past couple of months, was here too.