‘Sounds like you.’

‘Excuse me!’ Tully said, sitting forward.

‘Come on, Tul. You were an utter lunatic as a child.’

‘Thanks a lot.’

‘You were. You had a strange eye twitch for a while. And remember when you used to pull your hair out from the roots? And what about that time you made us all walk home from school and back again because Mum – not you: Mum – stepped on one of the cracks in the pavement. You were convinced that if we didn’t do it, Mum would die.’

‘I remember that,’ Tully said. ‘Mum was dreadful at missing the cracks. She stepped on every one.’

‘There you go then,’ Rachel said. ‘Your son is just like you.’

Tully raised an eyebrow. ‘A lunatic?’

‘A sensitive child who feels things deeply,’ Rachel corrected. ‘I imagine there’s been a fair bit of tension in your house of late, with losing the money, selling the house –’

‘His mum being a kleptomaniac.’

Rachel blinked. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Oh,’ Tully said, ‘I hadn’t told you that part yet, had I?’

Rachel shook her head as she rose to her feet. ‘Hold on,’ she said. ‘I suspect we’re going to need another glass of wine for this.’

23

HEATHER

Heather and Stephen had spent the afternoon wedding planning. Or, rather, planning for wedding planning. They’d hired a wedding planner, an efficient woman named Eleanor who had given them a survey to complete – a multiple-choice questionnaire about the elements of their dream wedding. Heather had expected that she would complete the survey alone at her desk during a lunch break, but instead Stephen had insisted that they do it together. Each time she asked a question, he frowned thoughtfully, weighed up the options, then gave his opinion, before acknowledging that, ultimately, it was up to her. It was one of those afternoons that Heather used to think were for other people.

Now, having completed the survey, they lay on his bed together – their bed – flicking through wedding magazines. Heather’s head was in Stephen’s lap. It was the first time since Heather had moved in that they’d done this, and there was something peaceful about it. She felt like the type of person she saw in the wedding magazines. Not beautiful; she didn’t mean that. But . . . enviable. Legitimate. Not like a girl playing the part of a bride.

‘I’m happy,’ she said out loud. ‘I’m so, so happy.’

Stephen shifted so he could see her face. Then he smiled. ‘Me too,’ he said.

They gazed at each other, caught in a blissful, loved-up bubble. Suddenly Heather caught sight of the clock on the bedside table. ‘Ooh, it’s getting late!’ she said, rolling off the bed. ‘I need to decide what to wear.’

She walked over to the walk-in wardrobe she’d designed – the one that was larger than her bedroom in her previous home. They were having dinner with Mary and Michael, who were old friends of Stephen. Michael and Stephen had gone to medical school together and Mary had been a good friend of Pam. There was going to be another couple there too, also friends of Stephen and Pam. It was the first time they’d done this, and Heather was incredibly nervous.