Her phone buzzed and she grabbed at it eagerly. Another good distraction. She could have been playing on TikTok this whole time, of course, having been indoctrinated to the app during lockdown and as yet unable to wean herself off, but that wasn’t the right kind of anxiety interference, she knew. Because she wouldn’t concentrate on the videos, no matter how funny or cute they were. Her mind would drift back to the thing she was worrying about.

  But someone messaging her to ask a question would work. So who was her saviour? She checked the display. Something unidentifiable rushed through her chest and shoulders, settling in her stomach.

  Roman.

  It was a message from Roman. Well, she’d asked for a distraction and the universe had provided. He’d messaged a couple of days ago saying welcome back and asking how she was, but all she’d sent was a noncommittal “Good thanks” in response. She knew it wasn’t enough but she didn’t have anything else in her. It was too hard to pretend things were normal when they had this huge thing hanging over their heads. Couldn’t he just tell her what the situation was so she didn’t have to think or worry about it incessantly?

  This new message said. Everything okay?

  Great question. She let out a breath and looked at the ceiling. She’d been riding the Roman rollercoaster virtually from the moment she met him. Was she ready to get off? On one hand she yearned to talk to him. She ached with it. While on holiday, for two whole weeks, she’d successfully (mostly) put him out of her mind, even relinquishing her phone to Paige to make sure she didn’t do anything she’d later regret. Paige had loved having this control, handing the phone back to Sophie for supervised usage or when Sophie’s mother or someone else on the ‘permitted people’ list contacted her.

  But now they were back and she was in complete charge of her phone and her life; she had to act like a grown-up. But what did that mean? What should she do? More than talk to him, she was desperate to see him. To be near him. To have him put his arms around her and say everything was going to work out. But what if he was messaging to tell her, just FYI, that he and Anya had worked everything out and she wasn’t having an affair with that horrible Eric guy and the baby was Roman’s and they were going off into the sunset with their newly perfect family. That message-slash-conversation she could do without, thanks very much.

  “Sophie?”

  She looked up with a start. From out of nowhere, it seemed, a young woman had appeared and now stood in the doorway with an expectant smile. She’s too young to be a clinical practitioner, Sophie immediately thought. And too… colourful, with her crimson shirt and mustard trousers.

  “Doctor Meadows?” She rose to stand, banishing her ungenerous thoughts. She knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of such assumptions and she would not inflict that kind of old-fashioned judgement on a fellow young female professional.

  “You can call me Cassie. Would you like to come through?”

  Sophie took one step and upended the chair next to her, having somehow managed to hook the strap of her bag around the chair leg. “Whoops,” she said, before the momentum of this motion propelled her forwards, causing her to stagger and crash into Cassie.

  “Oof,” she cried, letting out a little squeal at the impact.

  “Oh my god, I am so sorry.” Sophie felt heat rising in her cheeks. Her ever-present klutziness tended to get worse the more nervous she was. Far too often she felt she was something akin to an octopus, but one without any control of its numerous appendages.

  “No problem,” Cassie said, managing a tight smile. “Let’s go through and get started.”

  Paige and Tim stood at opposite ends of the living room glaring at each other.

  “Paige, we agreed to talk about this.”

  “Yeah, but not today, not right this second.”

  “Weren’t you supposed to be thinking about things and clearing your head while you were away?”

  “No. I just needed to get away. A holiday. I haven’t had one in years.”

  Tim let out a heavy breath. “What are we supposed to do? How are we going to get past this?”

  Paige shrugged.

  “Maybe we need to go to counselling.”

  Paige narrowed her eyes. “Are you kidding?”

  “Are you? You have a PhD in psychology.”

  “So?”

  “You don’t believe in talking to a trained counsellor about the stuff going on in your head and heart?”

  “I’m a cognitive neuroscientist. What does that have to do with counselling?”

  “I mean, don’t you believe in the benefit of consulting mental health professionals?”

  “Mental health?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Paige shrugged again.

  Tim stared at her for a moment. “I cannot believe how immature you are being about this. All of this. Maybe you’re right. Maybe you’re not cut out to be anyone’s mother.”

  He stalked away.

  The Two Michaels picked up their drinks and hurried over to lay claim to the two-seater table in the corner that had just become available. This Viaduct bar had gotten steadily louder since they’d arrived an hour ago and was now an environment in which it was almost impossible to hear a single thing. But having finally secured a table it felt foolish to leave. And so, they sat down and huddled together so they could shout in each other’s ears.

  “But if we don’t do this,” Mike roared at Michael, “then what else are we going to do? Your father has all but retired. He said there’s nothing for us at the moment, right?”

  “Right,” Michael shouted back.

  “At least this investigations business is already set up,” Mike screamed.

  “True,” Michael thundered in agreement.

  Mike’s phone buzzed. Rather than try to tell Michael this—his throat was already a bit raw—he held up the display. “Unknown number,” he said, more to himself, then answered the call. He held one finger to the other ear in an attempt to block out the surrounding din and squinted with concentration. “Pardon?” he yelled. “Yeah, yeah. SOS Agency.” He slid forwards then squatted down so he was crouched on the floor, as if being almost under the table might enable him to hear what his caller was saying.

  “Say that again?” he yelled. “Listen, this is pointless,” he bellowed into the phone. “I can’t hear a bloody thing you’re saying. Can you email or text me? What? TEXT ME.”

  With that, he disconnected and took his seat. Michael gave him an uncertain look. Mike gestured at his ears.

  “Maybe we should go. This is ridiculous,” Michael hollered.

  “What?” Mike dropped his gaze to check his phone. He had a new email. He grabbed Michael’s arm and pointed at the message. Michael leaned over to read it in the dim light.

  Have something I need help with. A case. Can I meet you on Monday?

  A possible client, Mike thought with excitement. Quickly, he typed out a reply.

  Doing field work on Monday. City central. Can meet you for coffee at 10:00 a.m.

  OK, the potential new client replied. Rude Boy Deli? Sale Street.

  Sure.

  Mike smiled as he picked up his drink. “There you have it. A client already. Without doing anything. Easy as pie, this is going to be.”

  “What?” Michael shouted.

  “New client,” Mike shrieked.

  “But what’s the case?” Michael yelled directly into Mike’s ear.

  Mike shrugged happily and downed his drink, searching the room for a waiter. They would find out on Monday. Clearly, this investigative lark wouldn’t be so hard after all.

  5

  Saturday night, after a day of golfing followed by a delicious steak dinner, Don and Bruce took their drinks out to the poolside patio. “A close call but no drama,” Don said as they took seats. “That bloody allergy.” He laughed. “Bit of excitement, ay?”

  “The Donster lives life on the edge,” Bruce replied.

  “Always.” Don raised his glass as a toast.

  “Hey, turn the heater on would you?” Bruce pointed to the two outdoor gas heaters nearby. “It’s bloody frosty out here.”

  “I thought those jeans would keep you warm.”

  “Huh?”

  Don cast a wicked smile at Bruce. “You’ll start a fire any second,” he added, referring to the snugness of fit and the way the inside seams rubbed together when Bruce walked.

  Bruce made a face and tugged at the crotch of his jeans. “Yeah, well. Maybe a few extra pounds have gone on recently. They’re actually bloody uncomfortable. I thought they’d loosen up after a bit.”

  “Too tight,” Natasha said as she appeared at the French doors. “No more children for you.”

  “You promise?” Bruce laughed.

  “You need to be doing the business to have kids,” Don said.

  “Who says I’m not?”

  “Your wife.” Don threw back his head to laugh.

  Natasha forced a smile.

  “How were drinks with the girlies?” Don asked once he’d recovered from his own hilarity, lifting his chin and pursing his lips at Natasha.

  She dutifully walked over to give him a kiss. “No jeans for you,” Natasha said, waggling her finger at Don. “Need sperm to be working.”

  “You’re going for another round of sprogs at your age?” Bruce said, widening his eyes. “Jeez, mate, you’re a sucker for punishment.”

  Don shrugged noncommittally. “If the boys still swim, they’ll get their shot.”

  “Ha!” Bruce barked. “Time for another one, ay?” He indicated the now empty bottle of shiraz sitting on the table between them.

  Natasha’s eyes slid from Don to Bruce. “I get.”

  She glided away, the two men appreciating both her exit as well as her return. She deposited an opened bottle on the table. “Where’s wife?” Natasha asked Bruce.

  “Who cares?” Bruce guffawed.

  Natasha narrowed her eyes at Bruce.

  “Hey, weren’t Stan and Russ going to join us for a drink?” Bruce added, unscrewing the cap of the wine and pouring himself a generous glass.

  Don shrugged then grinned. “Maybe Russell is still hurting from the thrashing he took at golf today. Didn’t seem very happy at dinner, did he.”

  Bruce snickered. “Or maybe he’s still pissed about what you said at the meeting on Friday.”

  “If you can’t take the heat, get out of the kitchen.”

  Natasha yawned loudly then leaned down to kiss Don. “I go to bed.”

  “Night, love.”

  “You’re not going to get all soft on me, are you?” Bruce said once she’d gone.

  “What do you mean?”

  Bruce lifted one hand and made a crack-the-whip motion. “Now that you’ve got a new piece. You’re not going to be under her thumb, are you? Not allowed out to play like you used to?”

  “Hardly.” Don chortled. “I wear the pants around here. She knows her place. These eastern European birds, they’re good like that. They’re feisty and they look after themselves but when it comes down to it, they know their place.” His eyes gleamed.

  “Glad to hear it,” Bruce said, raising his glass to clink against Don’s.

  The next morning, Kate and Tina joined Jack and Madison at their house for the ‘impromptu breakfast’ that Kate had engineered. She wanted to talk to her brother about their father, but so far it wasn’t going very well.

  Kate finished her mouthful of eggs and eyed Jack, currently delaying answering her question by taking a sip of coffee. When Jack set down the cup a little louder than necessary, Madison looked up. As Madison shifted her gaze to Tina, Kate caught the look and wondered what it was about. Madison’s botoxed expression was virtually unreadable.

  Madison and Jack had married two years ago after only six months of dating and she’d immediately abandoned her degree in information technology. They were ‘head-over-heels’, apparently, and didn’t see the point in waiting. Why you couldn’t continue your university studies while you got married, Kate didn’t know. And Kate didn’t think she’d ever met a couple who seemed less like they were in love. And that was including her own mother’s marriage to her philandering father. At least their passion had been evident. But Madison had that twenty-something facial blankness common nowadays, the reason both chemical and cultural. Flawless but expressionless faces, heavy makeup and dead eyes. Doing everything they could to avoid expressive faces because that’s what causes wrinkles and, gross, who wanted wrinkles? Jack had always gone for women like Madison and he didn’t seem to mind the way she was, so maybe it was a marriage made in heaven. A disinterested wife and a workaholic husband. Love didn’t have to be the same for everyone.

  Maybe Kate could ask her own wife Tina about Jack and Madison’s relationship, she mused. Tina had become good friends with Madison over the past couple of years. Maybe because they both had to deal with the Dash family and god knows they probably needed to offload sometimes. Or maybe because both of the Dash children had gone for younger women—they had their father’s genes after all—and while their spouses’ personalities weren’t particularly similar, Tina and Madison still enjoyed getting dressed up for cocktail evenings and hitting the town once in a while. Kate was happy Tina was still getting her bar-hopping fix with someone inside the family. More so, she was grateful she didn’t have to be involved. She felt as if she was done with all that. She now preferred a nice meal with friends at someone’s house and to be tucked up in bed by eleven p.m. at the absolute latest. A somewhat nana-ish approach at only thirty-four but she’d always been a sensible sort. Not sensible enough to be included in her father’s business of course. She was missing one key anatomical feature for that. She rolled her eyes. No matter, she had her own successful advertising company and she was perfectly happy with that. And Jack seemed so stressed all the time and had significantly less control over his work schedule than she did. No, it was much better this way.

  “Jack?” Kate said into the silence.

  He still hadn’t answered her question.

  “You’re overreacting,” Jack said, sounding irritated. “Dad’s fine. Nothing gets to him.”

  “Not even a deadly allergic reaction?”

  “No. Case in point.”

  “But he nearly died.”

  “He did not. He just gasped and choked for a bit. A shot of the EpiPen and he was fine.”

  “Speaking of which, it was weird we couldn’t find the one he keeps in the kitchen drawer.”

  “Sorry to break it to you sis, but you are not exactly Sherlock Holmes when it comes to looking for things.”

  “Hey.”

  “And you were kind of panicked. It’s probably sitting there right now.”

  “It wasn’t there.”

  “Well, Natasha found one and it all worked out.”

  After Natasha had returned with the EpiPen and they’d used it on Don, his symptoms had calmed down. By the time the paramedics arrived he was almost normal again. They’d checked him over and declared him to be fine.

  “He’s supposed to have four in the house. Bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and in the pool house.”

  Jack arched one eyebrow and focused his gaze on her. Kate could also feel the weight of both Tina and Madison’s attention. All three of them staring at her like this made her feel a little hysterical, but she felt sure she wasn’t overreacting.

  “Maybe someone moved it to make it harder to—”

  “Kate.” Jack made an annoyed sound.

  “How can you not see it?” Kate said, exasperated. “Since they got married they’ve nearly had a car accident, Dad got mildly electrocuted, and now this? Natasha knew he’s allergic to sesame. She said she didn’t but she did. I was there when he told her.”

  “That kind of thing is easily forgotten.” Jack’s eyes shifted away.

  “Babe?” Tina said to her. “Mads and I are going for a walk, okay? Back in about half an hour.”

  “Sure.”

  Kate and Jack each received a kiss on the cheek from their spouses then watched them amble down the hall, already huddled in conversation, to exit out the front door of Jack and Madison’s Epsom home.

  “Have you got the hots for her?” Kate said, once she was sure they were gone.

  “For Natasha?” Jack laughed. “She’s hot, yeah, but so what?”

  “God, isn’t Madison enough for you? You’ve only been married for two years and her body is insane.”

  “Already seen every inch of her body.” He laughed again.

  “Ugh, Jack. Don’t turn into Dad, will you? Promise.”

  He grinned. Kate scowled.

  “Listen, if Natasha was being dodgy, Dad would know. He has eyes everywhere.” Jack waggled his eyebrows. “He likes to watch.”

  Kate frowned. “What?” She clenched her fists. God, her brother was annoying. “I wish you’d take this seriously.”

  “And I wish you’d drop it. You’re being ridiculous.”

  “You’re wrong. I’m right.”

  “Sure, whatever,” Jack mumbled.

  Kate stood up, heat rushing through her cheeks. His dismissiveness was infuriating. “I’m going to go see him right now. Have it out. Warn him properly.”

  “You’re leaving? Tina will be back in half an hour.”

  “I’ll text her. Mads can give her a lift home.” Kate paused by the table. “I’m serious, Jack. He needs to watch his back.”

  “Kate, seriously, leave me out of it.”

  As Kate walked up to her father’s front door she became aware that her jaw was still clenched and her shoulders were tight with tension. She’d taken a circuitous route from Jack’s place to her father’s house in Mission Bay to give herself a chance to cool down, trying as she drove to let her anger float off into the ether. But instead it had festered and bubbled even closer to boiling. Oh well, she was here now and she would say what she came to say. She’d need a bit of ire to confront her father.

 

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