‘I’ll tie up Charger and get some ice,’ Bec offered, happy to have a job.

  When she returned from the kitchen with a tea towel and a bag of frozen peas, a very pale Julie was propped up against the bath. Claire had wrapped a bandage from Julie’s toes to above her knee.

  ‘Thanks.’ Claire accepted the tea towel–wrapped peas with an appreciative smile before placing the bag over Julie’s ankle. She sat back on her haunches. ‘Feeling dizzy?’

  ‘Dizzy, no. Stupid, yes.’ Julie sighed. ‘I’ve been lying here cold and uncomfortable for hours and thinking how cross Heather would be with me.’

  Claire laughed. ‘For climbing onto a rickety chair instead of a sturdy step stool?’

  ‘No. For not telling anyone about the lump in my breast that’s been growing there for months.’

  Bec saw the anxiety on Julie’s face and lowered herself down next to her to take her hand. ‘A lump isn’t automatically cancer.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Claire nodded her agreement. ‘It could be—’

  ‘I’m sixty-seven, Claire. You know the odds are stacked in cancer’s favour.’

  ‘I know that nothing’s conclusive until the test results are in.’

  ‘I don’t want tests.’

  ‘Julie! If Mum was here she’d tell you you’re being ridiculous.’

  ‘If your mother was still here, Hugo would still be here and me having cancer wouldn’t be the straw that breaks Phil and Penny.’

  Bec got an inkling of understanding. ‘Have you been ignoring the lump to protect them?’

  ‘Julie, that’s bonkers,’ Claire snapped.

  ‘How is it different from you making yourself sick over Matt and refusing to try to work things out?’

  Despite the heat in their voices and the pulsating frustration that filled the small space, Bec heard the love the women shared. Her own mother’s love for her was tied to her marriage to Adam and the money he provided so she could live a comfortable third age, rather than happiness for Bec. Claire had lost a loving mother and Bec was sorry, but despite that awful loss, Claire still had a woman in her life who loved and cared for her.

  A bud of jealousy glowed green and opened inside her, twisting round her heart. ‘Actually, Julie, Claire had a spectacular meltdown tonight. After her wails scared the sheep and her tears had soaked Layla’s blouse, she’s agreed to get some help.’

  Claire’s eyes flashed. ‘I don’t think I actually said that.’

  ‘But you want Julie to see a doctor?’

  ‘Yes! Unlike Matt and me, cancer can be cured!’

  ‘In that case, the solution’s obvious. Julie has the tests and you talk to a counsellor.’

  ‘Who crowned you Solomon?’

  Bec crossed her arms. ‘Go ahead. Be snarky. I really don’t care. All I want is for Julie to get the help she needs. If that involves you throwing yourself on a pyre, so be it.’

  ‘Jeez, Rebecca. You’re all heart.’

  ‘She is and when you get off your high horse, Claire, you’ll see that.’ Julie glanced between them, her mouth flat and sad. ‘I suppose now you both know about the lump, I’m not going to get a moment’s peace unless I agree to tests.’

  ‘No,’ they chorused.

  ‘Well, I’ve got rules,’ Julie said reclaiming some control. ‘I’ll have the tests but Phil and Penny aren’t to know.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘No buts, Claire. We do it my way or not at all.’

  ‘Bec, tell her it’s a bad idea.’

  ‘What if Julie takes it one step at a time so it’s not so overwhelming for her?’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Bec felt Julie’s gratitude in the squeeze of her hand and in the accompanying squeeze of her heart. ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘Okay, but I want it noted I’m not happy.’ Claire sighed. ‘I think you’ve broken your ankle. I suppose you can have the tests while you’re in hospital and Penny and Phil will be none the wiser. But afterwards, no matter the results, you must tell them.’

  Bec tried imagining herself in Julie’s situation. ‘I don’t think you should be on your own when you get the results.’

  ‘I want both of you there with me.’

  ‘Bec and I together in the same room and well behaved?’ Claire laughed. ‘Challenge accepted!’

  Julie fixed her with a grimace. ‘And as I’m putting myself through this, I want proof tomorrow that you’ve made an appointment to see a counsellor.’

  Claire’s gaze slid away. ‘Okay.’

  The ring of the home phone drifted down the hall. ‘That will be Phil.’

  Bec scrambled to her feet. ‘I’ll tell him about your ankle and that you’re going to hospital for X-rays. Then you can call him from there and fill him in on all the procedures so when he finally arrives back, he won’t question any of the tests.’

  ‘Wow! For someone who’s anal about most everything, you’re amazingly quick at subterfuge and obfuscation,’ Claire teased.

  Bec forced herself to laugh. Claire had no idea. And if Bec had anything to do with it, she never would.

  * * *

  ‘Who wants ice cream?’ Sophie asked after the sound of Bec’s car melted into the quiet night.

  ‘I think I need Turkish tea.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Black with lots of sugar.’ Layla adjusted her head scarf. ‘All this news gives me a bad surprise.’

  ‘A shock,’ Sophie said. Then, at Layla’s questioning look, elaborated, ‘A bad surprise is a shock.’

  ‘Why does Claire say no to children?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s that unusual.’ Erica switched on the kettle.

  ‘It might not be in inner Melbourne but out here, it’s pretty uncommon,’ Sophie said. ‘I work with a girl who just got married and the moment she got back from her honeymoon, people started asking her when she was going to have kids. They joke and say stuff like, “Come on, Myrtle needs more footy players,” but it’s still pressure.’

  ‘I’ve had friends who are hell-bent on their careers and adamant they don’t want kids,’ Erica said. ‘They think that because I’ve got kids I’ll judge them for their decision, which I don’t. But the friendships suffered. It isn’t just that they don’t want children, they don’t want to be around them either.’

  ‘But Claire likes children,’ Layla said. ‘At the barbecue, she plays in the sandpit with Malik and Rafi. None of us did.’

  ‘She was probably taking a breather from us.’ Erica poured boiling water over the tea bags. ‘That night there were kids everywhere. We were all obnoxiously playing happy families. If we’re honest, we do talk about the kids a lot. That night was probably worse because it wasn’t a meeting.’

  Layla spooned sugar into her tea. ‘We didn’t know about Matt. It’s hard for her.’

  A surge of indignation shot through Sophie. ‘So why didn’t she tell us weeks ago? We could have made sure we didn’t inadvertently hurt her feelings. I mean, it’s not like we’ve all just met. We’re friends now, aren’t we? We share stuff. Sometimes I think Claire doesn’t know how to be one of the girls. Like tonight—instead of being my friend, she was busy being the health professional.’

  ‘Natural helpers find it hard not to help,’ Erica said.

  ‘In that case, we need to teach her how to be a friend, otherwise one day, I might just snot her one.’

  ‘But why no children?’ Layla repeated, still clearly bewildered. ‘Children are a gift. Family is precious.’

  ‘And they’re bloody hard work, too, Layla,’ Erica said. ‘If we wrote down the pros and cons of having kids, none of us would do it. Think about it. The first couple of years are a slog. No sleep, no time for yourself, no time for your husband, lacklustre sex if you can muster the energy to try, mountains of washing, cold cups of tea, dealing with more bodily fluids than you ever thought possible and worse than any of that, the heart-stopping terror when they get sick.’

  Sophie handed out bowls of ice cream. ‘When I got pregnant with Liam it was a total accident. Josh had this whole timeline planned for us and kids didn’t feature until we’d been married five years and bought our first house. When the family planning nurse gave me the news, she said more than fifty per cent of pregnancies are unplanned. Claire just needs to get knocked up. The hormones take over fast and it’s goodbye logic and hello baby.’

  ‘Given Matt’s moved out, that’s an unlikely scenario.’ Erica glanced at the kitchen clock. ‘We should have heard by now. Not that I’m not concerned for Claire, but I’m worried about Julie.’ She suddenly started pulling open drawers and rummaging through them.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Layla asked askance. ‘This is Claire’s house.’

  ‘I’m looking for pens and paper. If Claire’s like me, she’s picked up a notepad and pen from every hotel or conference she’s ever attended and put them in a drawer for shopping lists and things.’

  Drawing a blank in the kitchen, Erica moved purposely to a wooden sidetable with two thin drawers. She pulled open the left one and held up a handful of pads and three pens. ‘Bingo!’

  ‘Why do you want paper and pens?’

  The phone rang and they all jumped. Sophie leaped on it. ‘Hello?’

  ‘It’s me,’ Bec said.

  ‘Hang on, I’ll put you on speaker.’ She pressed the button and lay the phone on the coffee table. ‘How’s Julie?’

  ‘Lucky we came. She fell in the bathroom and she’s broken her ankle.’

  ‘But’s she’s okay otherwise?’ There was an extended silence. ‘Bec, spill,’ Erica commanded.

  Bec sighed. ‘None of you can say a word to anyone, okay? Not even the guys.’

  They murmured their agreement.

  ‘She’s worried about a lump in her breast.’

  ‘Oh, God.’ Sophie grabbed Erica and Layla’s hands. ‘That’s so scary.’

  ‘It is, but it’s more complicated than that,’ Bec continued. ‘She’s been agonising for weeks, not telling anyone, because after Hugo, she doesn’t think Phil or Penny can cope with any more bad news.’

  ‘Poor Julie,’ Layla said.

  ‘Send her our love,’ Erica said.

  ‘I will.’ Bec rang off.

  ‘We should send her flowers,’ Sophie said. ‘I’ll organise them in the morning.’

  Erica pushed pads and pens towards them. ‘Words last longer than flowers. How about we write and tell her how much she means to us?’

  Sophie thought sending flowers was a lot easier but reluctantly accepted a pen and pad. Taking herself over to a comfy chair, she gazed through the floor-to-ceiling windows into the night. These days, the inky darkness was surprisingly unintimidating and she sought inspiration from the silver pricks of light weaving a mat across the sky. What did she want to say to Julie?

  After scrunching up three pieces of paper, she said, ‘This is too hard.’

  ‘Make a list of everything Julie’s ever done for you and see if that helps,’ Erica suggested.

  Sophie chewed the pen and slowly wrote all the random acts of kindness that Julie had bestowed upon her since she’d moved to Myrtle. She valued all of them but she especially treasured the invitation to join the craft group. It had widened her small world and introduced her to this eclectic but caring group of women. Slowly, words started to flow but while she wrote, uninvited thoughts about her mother dogged her. Since the unsuccessful visit in late August, she’d had little contact with Aileen other than the occasional frosty phone call. With Christmas six weeks away, she was dreading the next call. It would come, as it did every year, with its usual festive season demands and inflexibility.

  Sophie asked herself what she would write if she had to pen a similar letter to her mother. I love you but I don’t like you? I’m sad you don’t support me and Josh? I’m angry and hurt that you judge me for wanting the same things as Kylie as if I’m not entitled to them. I’m furious that you blame me for my house burning down.

  What was that all really saying? You can choose your friends but not your relatives? Whoever coined that phrase knew something she’d never suspected until now. She’d choose accepting and kind Julie over critical Aileen every time.

  * * *

  When Bec arrived home from the hospital, Adam was waiting for her on the couch—arms crossed and wearing a sceptical expression. ‘Since when are you and Claire McKenzie best friends?’

  Bec ignored the lack of a greeting and bent down and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Sorry, I’m late and we’re not best friends. We’re not even friends, but we’re learning to be civil for the sake of Put Myrtle on the Map.’

  ‘Fair enough. That idea of hers about green tomato chutney is a good one.’

  ‘It’s my idea but I’m so tired at the moment, I’m delegating jobs.’

  ‘Poor baby. Sit.’ He patted the couch. ‘Put your feet up and I’ll make you tea. Peppermint? Chamomile?’

  Since she’d told Adam about the pregnancy, he’d been making little gestures like this. She reminded herself there was much about him to appreciate and be grateful for. ‘Peppermint would be lovely, thank you.’

  ‘Coming right up.’

  Bec leaned back and closed her eyes and the evening rushed back. What if Claire hadn’t had a meltdown and she hadn’t called Julie? She shuddered at the thought of Julie spending the night on the cold bathroom floor.

  ‘Here you go.’

  She opened her eyes and accepted the proffered mug. ‘You’re the best.’

  Adam grinned. ‘Damn straight.’

  He sat next to her drinking a Coke. Her tea smelt fresh and reviving but it didn’t taste quite like she remembered. Then again, nothing tasted normal thanks to her body turning her off anything it thought might harm the baby. She understood the scent and taste of coffee making her feel ill, because caffeine wasn’t healthy, but peppermint tea? It didn’t make a lot of sense. Despite the bitter coppery taste, she drank it, because Adam making the effort to get her a drink was like Adam giving her a gift—he needed her appreciation. The last thing she wanted was for him to get snarky and say, ‘Why did you say yes to tea if you’re not going to drink it?’ And then tell her she was selfish.

  His palm rested gently on her thigh. ‘I thought your meeting was at the CWA?’

  A low-grade warning trickled through her. Before the fires, he’d never called her to ask where she was or what she was doing, but now he telephoned if she wasn’t home five minutes after her stated time. Sometimes, like tonight, he phoned earlier. This change in him didn’t make a lot of sense to her. She could have understood it if she and the girls had been trapped by the fire and he’d been the one in horrendous limbo wondering if they were dead or alive, but he’d always known they were safe in Lorne.

  In the early hospital days after he’d been weaned off the respirator, she’d often looked up from reading the paper or a magazine to find him studying her from beneath his bandages.

  ‘I tried calling you five times that day. Who the hell were you talking to?’ He’d asked her the same question half-a-dozen times in as many weeks.

  ‘No one,’ she’d always said calmly despite her thundering heart. ‘The network was jammed and then it failed completely. No one could get through to anyone. All calls got the engaged signal.’

  Was it the memory of trying to call her on that day that was making him phone so often now? Was this her fault?

  ‘Earth to Bec?’

  ‘We were at the CWA when we got a phone call from Julie. Phil’s out of town and she’d fallen over and hurt herself.’

  ‘Claire’s the nurse. Why did you need to go?’

  Bec knew the questions would keep coming and with each answer, she risked him finding out there hadn’t been a CWA meeting. The perfect way to distract him came to her and she weathered a momentary stab of guilt that Claire didn’t really deserve to be thrown under the bus.

  ‘Claire had been drinking so she wasn’t safe to drive. She and Matt have spilt up.’

  ‘You serious?’ Adam’s eyes lit up with the glee of gossip. ‘Who’s she screwing around with then?’

  ‘Why do you automatically think it’s her and not him?’

  ‘Babe. I know you don’t like her, but bottom line, she’s a very fuckable woman. That’s if you like her type, which, for the record, I don’t.’

  Bec had got used to Adam’s dissertations on who was hot and who was not a long time ago. She was far more interested in the second part of his statement. ‘What do you mean by “type”?’

  ‘Claire McKenzie’s a ball buster. Matt’s been blinded by her body from the moment he laid eyes on her and she’s had him by the short and curlies ever since. He doesn’t give a damn how weak that makes him, but what can you expect? His father’s the same. Louise Cartwright wears the pants in that family and everyone toes her line.’

  Bec got a momentary reprieve from her guilt—at least she hadn’t said Matt left Claire. ‘I never thought about it that way.’

  ‘So apart from Claire being pissed, how’s Julie?’

  ‘Broken ankle.’

  ‘That’ll slow her down a bit.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Bec yawned. ‘Sorry. It’s been a big night.’

  His fingers stroked her inner thigh. ‘Bedtime then?’

  She barely had enough energy to walk to the bedroom let alone have sex. ‘Adam, I’m exhausted.’

  ‘I know, babe. All you need to do is snuggle your naked body up next to mine and talk dirty while I take care of myself.’

  When she thought about the months of sex games he’d wanted her to play and the things he’d asked her to do before she got pregnant, this request was both tame and easy. ‘I can do that.’

  He stood up and pulled her to her feet before swinging her into his arms. ‘I’ll even save you the walk.’

  Laughing, she kissed him. Loving this version of Adam was easy.

  * * *

  ‘… digital photography.’

  Clare glanced up from her sandwich, suddenly aware that Shane had stopped talking. Unfortunately, her mind was so full of other things she had no idea what he’d been saying. ‘Sounds interesting. Tell me more.’

  Shane had suggested a working lunch to debrief on the previous youth group and plan the next one. He picked up his milkshake. ‘How about we eat first? You look like you could murder that sandwich.’