Yesterday, two police officers had been in to talk with her. After questioning her about the accident, they’d eventually explained that she was being charged with negligent driving occasioning death. It would likely be several months before she would have to attend court, but when she did, there was the possibility she would be up for jail time.

Yet another thing she was struggling to understand: her husband had apparently committed a horrific crime, yet she was the one who was facing potential incarceration. It seemed like such a cruel twist of fate.

‘How are you feeling today, Andrea?’ said the doctor, his eyes sweeping across her face before looking back down at the chart in his hands.

She shrugged. ‘Okay, I guess. I still feel slow, groggy.’

‘That’s to be expected. You’ll probably feel that way for some time. You told one of the nurses you think your menstrual cycle has been disrupted?’

Andrea nodded. ‘Yeah, my period was due . . . I think . . . a week or so ago? But maybe while I was in the coma —’

The doctor cut her off. ‘We ran a blood test after you mentioned it. Andrea, I have some news for you, but you need to understand your body has been through an enormous amount of stress, not to mention all the drugs you’ve received over the past few weeks. On the one hand, it’s still early days and it may therefore be fine.’ He hesitated. ‘But on the other hand, it’s important that you prepare yourself for the possibility that it may not progress.’

Andrea stared back at him in confusion. ‘What might not progress? What do you mean?’

‘Andrea, you’re pregnant.’

Epilogue

EPILOGUE

Christmas in July

Mimi

Andrea grabbed her hand as they walked towards the restaurant and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘This is about new beginnings,’ she said. ‘New traditions.’

‘I know,’ said Mimi, ‘but I’ve still got this resentment towards her. I know it isn’t fair, I know that Jill didn’t know everything, that she couldn’t have foreseen what Tony would do. I’ve forgiven her . . . I think. But then I still sometimes get this rage when I see her.’

‘Jesus,’ said Andrea. They stopped at the front door. ‘You’ve forgiven her but you get ragey when you see her? I think you still need more therapy.’

‘Ha,’ said Mimi. ‘Trust me, I’m still having fortnightly appointments since the accident. And Callie goes weekly.’

‘God. Poor girl. I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s okay, her psychologist is amazing. Callie’s made so much progress. She’s finally stopped scratching her skin to pieces. Sometimes I look back at all the signs and I can’t believe I missed them.’

Mimi reached out for the door, but Andrea touched her shoulder. ‘Before we go in, can I ask . . . Do you sometimes feel that way when you look at me?’