‘Of course,’ she replied.

The door cracked open. ‘I like coming home to find you in my shower.’

‘I like that you like it.’ She heard him drop his keys on the vanity. ‘How was your day?’

Through the glass she saw him prop himself up on the bathroom counter. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I started divorce proceedings with Pam, so good and bad. How was your day?’

Heather turned off the shower and wrapped a plush towel around herself. ‘Oh.’

‘It’s fine. Nothing for you to worry about.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Totally sure. How was your day? Did you arrange that lunch with Rachel and Tully?’

‘Oh,’ Heather said again. ‘Not yet.’

‘My guess is that you’ll be hearing from Rachel very soon.’ He said it at the very same moment that Heather’s phone began to ring. She glanced at the screen. It was Rachel.

She held it up to show Stephen, amazed. ‘Told you,’ he said. ‘I know things.’ He gestured for her to answer it.

‘Rachel,’ Heather said.

‘Heather! I hope this isn’t a bad time? I just wanted to follow up about lunch. I was thinking I could host at my place, if that works for you.’

She lifted her gaze to gape at Stephen. ‘That would be lovely,’ she said. ‘And . . . Tully will be there too?’

‘Of course,’ Rachel said, after a slight pause. ‘Tully wouldn’t miss it.’

When Heather hung up the phone, Stephen looked positively triumphant.

She shook her head. ‘How did you know?’

He tapped his temple, still smiling, but with a slightly different look in his eyes now. Then he opened the cupboard under the sink and pulled out the whisky bottle.

‘Told you,’ he said. ‘I know things.’

11

TULLY

As Tully sat on one of Rachel’s counter stools with a glass of wine in hand, she felt herself relax for the first time in weeks. Part of it was the wine. The other part of it was Rachel. As silly as it sounded, she was touched that Rachel had invited her to lunch. Generally, they caught up as a family – or they had before Mum went into the nursing home – for birthdays and Christmas, or to shop for a gift for Mother’s Day or Father’s Day. And there were the other odd things – like their cousin Caitlin’s hens’ party or the time they got tickets to see Frozen, the musical. But intimate one-on-one meet-ups at Rachel’s house weren’t something they’d ever done before, and Tully was excited.

Rachel lived in an unappealing blonde-brick unit on the hip north side of Melbourne. It should have been ugly as sin, and yet somehow she’d managed to make it charming, the kind of place people wanted to hang out. Even her tiny courtyard was lovely, decorated with fairy lights and hanging plant pots. She also had a gift for entertaining – being able to produce a good bottle of wine, spectacular lasagne and a salad with absolutely no notice, and without any apparent effort. Any time you went to Rachel’s, your glass was full, your plate was warm, and conversation flowed all night. It was a vibe Tully had been unable to re-create, even when paying caterers.