‘Honestly, my connection with the twins only really kicked in when I realised they could have been hurt in that accident. It was like, suddenly I knew how much I loved them, how much I did want them . . . even if I didn’t know that to begin with. My protective instincts for them finally switched on.’

Leesa bumped her foot gently against Mimi’s. ‘Well that’s good news, right?’

‘Yes and no. I mean, what kind of a shitty mum must I be if I couldn’t connect with my babies until they were in a life-threatening accident?’

‘Stop talking about yourself that way. You’re a great mother with children who are loved and taken care of.’

Mimi shook her head. ‘I don’t feel like I am.’

*

Darren

‘Is that Aunty Iris or Lorraine over there?’

Darren tried to see who Pete was pointing towards. He spotted a stooped over, white-haired woman with a walking stick.

‘Iris?’ he said. Then, ‘Buggered if I know.’

They were standing outside the chapel and Darren could tell Pete was having as much trouble as he was knowing exactly how to feel. The service was over and it was clear that people were perplexed about why there was no wake arranged. It must have looked like his family didn’t care very much, especially with close family members missing and the eulogy being delivered by the priest. At least no well-meaning but distant relatives like Aunty Iris-slash-Lorraine had come and queried them about it yet. Darren hoped maybe they’d assume it was because of Andrea still being in the coma.

‘Hey, do you think people are looking at us strangely?’ Darren asked.

‘Yes, I do. I think they think we’re pricks for not speaking.’

‘And for not organising a wake. I was going to talk, actually. I started thinking . . . he was still our brother, right? I should say something. But then I thought about Callie and I felt sick.’

Pete stiffened.

‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up.’

‘Don’t be sorry. It’s not like it isn’t constantly on my mind already. I still can’t wrap my head around any of it. How could he do something like that? I mean to anyone, obviously. But to his niece . . . to my . . . to my . . .’

Pete’s voice was rising dangerously and Darren reached out to put an arm around him but he pulled away.

‘I mean, fuck, you know? How could he? How fucking could he?’

In a sudden movement, Pete strode two steps to the side of the church and punched the brick wall. As soon as he’d done it, Darren could see the regret on his face. It would have hurt. And now more people were definitely staring.