‘You’ll wait until . . . until after Mum passes away, I assume,’ Rachel said. ‘It’s not like this is going to happen soon.’ It was ostensibly a statement, but Rachel looked at her father for confirmation.

Heather took another sip of her drink.

‘Well,’ Stephen said, ‘obviously Mum is very healthy – physically, at least. And’ – Heather felt his gaze on her, but she studiously avoided eye contact – ‘we can’t keep our plans on hold forever.’

The girls fell silent. At a table nearby someone started singing ‘Happy Birthday’ and a waiter appeared with a cake.

‘So . . . what are your plans?’ Rachel asked finally.

Stephen sighed. ‘I’ve met with Bill Thompson, and he said we can be granted a divorce, under these circumstances.’

‘You’re going to divorce Mum?’ Tully cried.

‘It’s just a formality, Tully-girl. Mum doesn’t even know we’re married most of the time. And of course I’d continue to look after her – and you. Mum would get sixty per cent of our assets, which would be handed down to you two after she passes.’

Tully and Rachel appeared so bewildered, Heather didn’t know where to look.

Eventually Rachel was the one to speak. ‘This is a lot. I don’t know quite what to say!’

‘Why don’t we drink to it then?’ Stephen suggested, lifting his glass.

Hesitantly, the rest of them followed suit. But after they clinked their glasses together, Heather was the only one who took a sip.

4

TULLY

The day after the lunch, Tully sat in the car park of Westfield and looked in the rear-view mirror. Items were strewn all over the back seat of her Range Rover, spilling into the footwell – a silk camisole, a pair of Lululemon running leggings, a leather wallet. There was also a fine gold necklace, a pair of toddler scissors, and a packet of post-its. A random assortment of items, but it didn’t matter what it was. That’s what most people didn’t get about her habit. It wasn’t about the getting. It was about the taking. She’d determined, a while back, that she was an addict. When the urge to put something into her handbag or stuff it under her sweater overcame her, she was powerless to stop herself. Most of the stuff she stole was later stored in the garage, stuffed under beds or dropped off at charity shops. Heather’s wallet, for example, she’d handed in to the police station yesterday with all cash and cards accounted for.

Like any addict she knew that she’d feel the guilt and self-loathing and remorse. But since this was a given, she decided she might as well enjoy the high.

And enjoying it she was. It was exactly what she needed after all the ‘meeting Heather’ malarkey yesterday. Tully had been unaware of the stress she’d been carrying around in the lead-up to that meeting. Heather hadn’t been a welcome relief nor had she put any of Tully’s fears to rest. Heather had been exactly as she’d feared . . . though perhaps slightly less trashy, with slightly smaller boobs. And now she was going to become Tully’s stepmother! The idea was too horrific to contemplate.