‘Like . . . eating dirt,’ Tully said finally. It was the best she could come up with on the spur of the moment. She remembered hearing during her pregnancies about a pregnant woman who started craving things like dirt, metal and rocks. It was a legitimate condition apparently, though Tully herself had only ever craved carbohydrates during pregnancy. In any case, as the direction of counselling began to steer towards what she should do the next time she started to crave dirt, it didn’t seem pertinent to continue the counselling and Tully dropped out a few weeks later.

‘I tried,’ Tully said to Sonny. ‘But I could never manage to say the words out loud.’

Sonny exhaled. ‘Tully, what you’re describing doesn’t sound like regular shoplifting to me. It sounds like kleptomania.’

Tully had heard the word. She didn’t like it. It sounded so . . . awful. Like necrophiliac. Or paedophiliac. Nothing Tully wanted to be associated with. She preferred to think of it as her ‘little problem’.

‘Matt defended a kleptomaniac a few years ago. It was a similar story. A young mother who had more than enough money and yet she kept stealing. They were things she didn’t even want. Apparently, she was desperate to stop, but she couldn’t. It was like an addiction.’

‘Yes!’ Tully nodded desperately. ‘An addiction. That’s exactly what it is.’

Sonny began massaging his temples again. As much as Tully wanted to plead with him to understand, she knew he needed a minute to process this.

After a couple of minutes of silence, she asked, ‘What are you thinking?’

‘I’m thinking that I haven’t got the faintest idea who you are.’

‘Sonny,’ she started, and then the Kit Kat fell onto the floor and Miles began to scream like he was being attacked by wolves.

18

RACHEL

Someone was knocking at Rachel’s door. She had no intention of answering, obviously. How could she? Peter and Emily’s wedding cake had been destroyed. Rachel had eaten the top two layers. She was utterly stuffed, with cake, self-loathing and shame. There was no way she could repair or remake the cake in time, which meant she was not only an unspeakable glutton, but also that her business was ruined. She could just see the reviews. It might even make the news.

Another knock.

‘Go away!’ she shouted. She sounded like a madwoman.

‘Rachel?’

She swore internally. It was Darcy. Of course it was Darcy. Only someone who looked like he did could have the confidence to show up at your house after you’d cancelled a date with a pathetic excuse.

‘I know you have a wedding cake to deliver and I thought I’d deliver it for you since you aren’t feeling well,’ he called through the door. ‘You can just put it out on the doorstep and I’ll take it. I don’t need to see you without your . . . beauty products or anything. Not that you need beauty products. But I have sisters and I know they don’t even like the postman to see them before they’ve put their faces on. I can even close my eyes,’ he offered.