But what if she did the opposite? If the doubt Jane was feeling right now was reflected even for an instant on Madeline’s face, then what? It would be the worst betrayal of Ziggy.

“Oh, Abigail! Come have a muffin with us!” Madeline looked up as a teenage girl came into the kitchen. “Jane, this is my daughter Abigail.” A false note had crept into Madeline’s voice. She put down her muffin and fiddled with one of her earrings. “Abigail?” she said again. “This is Jane!”

Jane turned in her chair. “Hi, Abigail,” she said to the teenage girl, who was standing very still and straight, her hands clasped in front of her as if she were taking part in a religious ceremony.

“Hello,” said Abigail, and she smiled at Jane, a sudden flash of unexpected warmth. It was Madeline’s brilliant smile, but apart from that you would never have picked them for mother and daughter. Abigail’s coloring was darker and her features were sharper. Her hair hung down her back in that ratty, just-got-out-of-bed look and she wore a shapeless sack-like brown dress over black leggings. Intricate henna markings extended from her hands all the way up her forearms. Her only jewelry was a silver skull hanging from a black shoelace around her neck.

“Dad is picking me up,” said Abigail.

“What? No he’s not,” said Madeline.

“Yeah, I’m going to stay there tonight because I’ve got that thing tomorrow with Louisa and we have to be there early, and it’s closer from Dad’s place.”

“It’s ten minutes closer at the most,” protested Madeline.

“But it’s just easier going from Dad and Bonnie’s place,” said Abigail. “We can get out the door faster. We won’t be sitting waiting in the car while Fred looks for his shoes or Chloe runs back inside to get a different Barbie doll or whatever.”

“I suppose Skye never has to go back inside for her Barbie doll,” said Madeline.

“Bonnie would never let Skye play with Barbie dolls in a million years,” said Abigail with a roll of her eyes, as if that would be obvious to anyone. “I mean, you really shouldn’t let Chloe play with them, Mum; they’re, like, badly unfeminist, and they give her unrealistic body-shape expectations.”

“Yes, well, the ship has sailed when it comes to Chloe and Barbie.” Madeline gave Jane a rueful smile.

There was a beep of a horn from outside.

“That’s him,” said Abigail.

“You already called him?” said Madeline. Color rose in her cheeks. “You arranged this without asking me?”

“I asked Dad,” said Abigail. She came around the side of the table and gave Madeline a kiss on the cheek. “Bye, Mum.”

“Nice to meet you.” Abigail smiled at Jane. You couldn’t help but like her.

“Abigail Marie!” Madeline stood up from the table. “This is unacceptable. You don’t just get to choose where you’re going to spend the night.”

Abigail stopped. She turned around.

“Why not?” she said. “Why should you and Dad get to choose who gets the next turn of me?” Jane could again see a resemblance to Madeline in the way Abigail quivered with rage. “As if I’m something you own. Like I’m your car and you get to share me.”

“It’s not like that,” began Madeline.

“It is like that,” said Abigail.

There was another beep of the horn from outside.

“What’s going on?” A middle-aged man strolled into the kitchen, wearing a wet suit rolled down to his waist, revealing a broad, very hairy chest. He was with a little boy who was dressed exactly the same way, except his chest was skinny and hairless. He said to Abigail, “Your dad is out front.”

“I know that,” said Abigail. She looked at the man’s hairy chest. “You should not walk around like that in public. It’s disgusting.”

“What? Showing off my fine physique?” The man banged a proud fist against his chest and smiled at Jane. She smiled back uneasily.

“Revolting,” said Abigail. “I’m going.”

“We’ll talk more about this later!” said Madeline.

“Whatever.”

“Don’t you whatever me!” called out Madeline. The front door slammed.

“Mummy, I am starved to death,” said the little boy.

“Have a muffin,” said Madeline gloomily. She sank back down into her chair. “Jane, this is my husband, Ed, and my son, Fred. Ed, Fred. Easy to remember.”

“Because they rhyme,” clarified Fred.

“Gidday,” said Ed. He shook Jane’s hand. “Sorry about the ‘disgusting’ sight of me. Fred and I have been surfing.” He sat down next to Madeline and put his arm around her. “Abigail giving you grief?”

Madeline pressed her face against his shoulder. “You’re like a wet, salty dog.”

“These are good.” Fred took a gigantic bite from his muffin while simultaneously snaking out his hand and taking a second one. Jane would bring extra next time.

“Mummy! We neeeeeed you!” Chloe called from down the hallway.

“I’m going to go ride my skateboard.” Fred took a third muffin.

“Helmet,” said Madeline and Ed at the same time.

“Mummy!” Chloe shouted.

“Coming!” said Madeline. “Talk to Jane, Ed.”

She went off down the hallway.

Jane prepared herself to carry the conversation, but Ed grinned easily at her, took a muffin and settled back in his chair. “So you’re Ziggy’s mum. How’d you come up with the name Ziggy?”

“My brother suggested it,” said Jane. “He’s a big Bob Marley fan and I guess Bob Marley called his son Ziggy.” She paused, remembering the miraculous weight of her new baby in her arms, his solemn eyes. “I liked that it was kind of out-there. My name is so dull. Plain Jane and all that.”

“Jane is a beautiful, classic name,” said Ed very definitely, making her fall in love with him just a little. “In point of fact, I had ‘Jane’ on my list when we were naming Chloe, but I got overruled, and I’d already won on ‘Fred.’”

Jane’s eyes were caught by a wedding photo on the wall: Madeline wearing a champagne-colored tulle dress, sitting on Ed’s lap, both of them had their eyes screwed shut with helpless laughter.