‘Oh, John-Paul,’ Cecilia sighed into the darkness.

This perpetual quest for redemption he’d been undertaking for all these years seemed so silly, so childish, so utterly pointless and so typically unsystematic.

‘I invited Rachel Crowley to Polly’s pirate party,’ said Cecilia remembering, marvelling at the idiotically innocent person she’d been just a few hours earlier. ‘I drove her home tonight. I talked to her about Janie. I thought I was so great –’

Her voice broke.

She heard John-Paul take a deep shuddery breath.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘I know I keep saying it. I know it’s useless.’

‘It’s all right,’ she said, and nearly laughed, because it was such a lie.

That was the last thing she remembered before the two of them must have suddenly fallen into a deep, drugged-like sleep.

‘Are you okay?’ said John-Paul now. ‘Do you feel all right?’

She smelled his stale morning breath. Her own mouth felt dry. Her head ached. She felt hungover, seedy and ashamed, as if the two of them had engaged in some disgusting debauchery the previous night.

She pressed two fingertips to her forehead and closed her eyes, unable to look at him any longer. Her neck ached. She must have slept at a funny angle.

‘Do you think you still –’ He stopped himself and cleared his throat convulsively. He finally spoke in a whisper. ‘Can you still be with me?’

She looked into his eyes and saw pure, primal terror.

Did one act define who you were forever? Did one evil act as a teenager counteract twenty years of marriage, of good marriage, twenty years of being a good husband and a good father? Murder and you are a murderer. That was how it worked for other people. For strangers. For people you read about in the newspaper. Cecilia was sure about that, but did different rules apply to John-Paul? And if so, why?

There was a rapid pitter-patter of footsteps down the hallway and suddenly a small warm body catapulted itself onto their bed.

‘G’morning Mum,’ said Polly as she breezily wriggled herself between them. She shoved her head onto Cecilia’s pillow. Strands of her blue-black hair tickled Cecilia’s nose. ‘Hello Daddy.’

Cecilia looked at her youngest daughter as if she’d never seen her before: her flawless skin, the long sweep of her eyelashes and the brilliant blue of her eyes. Everything about her was exquisite and pure.

Cecilia’s eyes met John-Paul’s with perfect, bloodshot understanding. This was why.

‘Hello, Polly,’ they said together.

Chapter twenty-one

Liam said something Tess couldn’t hear, dropped her hand and stopped right at the entrance to St Angela’s. The flood of parents and children changed course to cope with the sudden obstacle in their path, streaming around them. Tess bent down next to him and someone’s elbow banged against the back of her head.

‘What is it?’ she said, rubbing her head. She felt twitchy, nervy and overstimulated. School drop-off was just as bad here as in Melbourne: a very particular version of hell for someone like her. People, people everywhere.

‘I want to go back home,’ Liam spoke to the ground. ‘I want Daddy.’

‘What’s that?’ said Tess, although she’d heard. She tried to take him by the hand. ‘Let’s get out of everybody’s way first.’

She knew this had been coming. It had all been suspiciously, oddly easy. Liam had seemed strangely sanguine about this abrupt, unplanned change of schools. ‘He’s so adaptable,’ Tess’s mother had marvelled, but Tess had thought it had more to do with the problems he’d been experiencing at his old school than actual enthusiasm about starting a new one.

Liam dragged on her arm, so she had to bend back down again.

‘You and Daddy and Felicity should stop fighting,’ he said, cupping his hand around Tess’s ear. His breath was warm and toothpaste scented. ‘Just say sorry to each other. Say you didn’t mean it. So we can go back home.’

Tess’s heart stopped.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Had she really thought she could put this over Liam? He’d always surprised her with how well he observed what was going on around him.

‘Grandma can come and stay with us in Melbourne,’ said Liam. ‘We can look after her there until her ankle gets better.’

Funny. That had never actually occurred to Tess. It was as if she thought her life in Melbourne and her mother’s life in Sydney took place on different planets.

‘They have wheelchairs at the airport,’ said Liam solemnly, just as the edge of a little girl’s backpack swung against his face and caught the corner of his eye. His face crumpled and tears spilled from his beautiful golden eyes.

‘Honey,’ she said helplessly, on the edge of tears herself. ‘Look. You don’t have to go to school at all. This was a crazy idea –’

‘Well good morning, Liam. I was wondering if you were here yet!’ It was that dotty school principal. She crouched down on her haunches next to Liam as easily as a child. She must do yoga, thought Tess. A boy about the same age as Liam walked by and gave her a loving pat on her grey, frizzy-haired head, as if she was the school dog, not the school principal. ‘Hello, Miss Applebee!’

‘Good morning, Harrison!’ Trudy lifted a hand and her shawl slid off her shoulders.

‘I’m sorry. We’re creating a traffic jam here –’ began Tess, but Trudy just smiled slightly in her direction, readjusted her shawl with one hand and returned her attention to Liam.

‘Do you know what your teacher, Mrs Jeffers, and I did yesterday afternoon?’

Liam shrugged and roughly brushed away his tears.

‘We turned your classroom into another planet.’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘Our Easter egg hunt is in outer space.’

Liam sniffed and looked extremely cynical. ‘How?’ he said. ‘How’d you do that?’

‘Come and see.’ Trudy stood up and took Liam’s hand. ‘Say bye to your mum. You can tell her how many eggs you found in space this afternoon.’

Tess kissed the top of his head. ‘Okay, well. Have a wonderful day, and don’t forget I’ll –’

‘There’s a spaceship of course. Guess who gets to fly it?’ said Trudy, leading him away, and Tess saw Liam glance up at the school principal, his face suddenly bright with cautious hope, before he was swallowed up in a crowd of blue and white checked uniforms.