Why think of that now?

Because of Raff?

She glanced up and he was watching her. Sarah was watching her.

‘What’s wrong?’ Sarah asked, and she came back to the present and realised Sarah had successfully put the cutting tool in place.

‘Hey, fantastic, let’s cut,’ she said, and the moment had passed. The time had passed. The tapes had been an aberration.

Philip had brought the tape round the next morning, cut to shreds.

‘Hey, Abby, I need to tell you I’m sorry. Christabelle and I only went out a couple of times, well before you and me. It’s not what you think. I only asked to kiss her. And I hadn’t realised the tape was on record. I record stuff in the car all the time on the trip between here and Sydney-I try and recall study notes and then see how accurate I’ve been. I must have forgotten this was still on. I’m so sorry you found it.’

It was okay, she conceded. It was a mistake. Kids did stupid things.

Like driving on the wrong side of the road?

‘What’s wrong?’ Sarah asked again and Raff’s eyes were asking the same question.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I just started thinking about all the things I had to do before the wedding.’

‘You want us to go home?’ Sarah asked, and Abby winced and got a grip.

‘No way. I’m hungry. Pasta, here we come. What setting shall we have it on? Do we want angels’ hair or tagliatelle?’

‘Angels’ hair,’ Sarah said.

‘My favourite,’ Raff said. ‘It always has been.’

She glanced up and he was looking straight at her. He wasn’t smiling.

Raff…

Don’t, she told herself but she wasn’t quite sure what she was saying don’t to.

All she knew was that this man meant trouble. He was surely causing trouble now.


They left at nine, which gave her an hour to clean the kitchen and to get her thoughts in order before Philip arrived.

He arrived promptly at ten. Kleppy met him at the door and growled.

He hadn’t growled at Raff and Sarah, but then he knew they were friends.

He didn’t yet know Philip was a friend.

‘If he bites…’ Philip said.

‘He won’t bite. He’s being a watchdog.’

‘I thought you had a headache,’ Philip said, wary and irritated. ‘I hear Finn and his sister have been here.’

She sighed. She lived in Banksia Bay. She should be used to this.

‘Sarah brought our wedding present. She wanted to demonstrate.’

‘Demonstrate what?’

‘Her gran’s pasta maker. You need to see it, Philip. It’s cool.’

‘A second-hand pasta maker?’

‘It’s an heirloom.’

‘Pasta makers aren’t heirlooms.’

‘This one is.’ She gestured to the battered silver pasta maker taking pride of place on her bench. ‘We’ll make pasta once a week for the rest of our lives. When we’re finally in our nursing home we’ll discuss the virtues of each of our children and decide who most deserves our fantastic antique pasta maker. If our children are unworthy we’ll donate it to the State Gallery as a National Treasure.’

He didn’t even smile. ‘You said you had a headache.’

‘I did have a headache.’

‘But you let them in.’

‘It was Sarah,’ she said, losing patience. ‘Her gran’s pasta maker means a lot to her. She was desperate to see me using it.’

‘You weren’t well enough to come out to dinner.’

‘If it was necessary I would have come,’ she snapped. ‘It wasn’t. It was, however, absolutely necessary for me to show Sarah that her grandmother’s pasta maker will be appreciated.’

‘And Finn?’

‘You mean Raff?’

‘Of course I mean Raff. Finn.’

‘He brought Sarah here. He watched.’

‘I don’t see how you can bear that man to be in the house.’

‘I can bear a lot for Sarah.’

‘Even having a dog foisted onto you.’

Kleppy growled again and Abby felt like growling herself. ‘Philip…’

And, just like that, he caved. He put his hands up in mock surrender, tossed his jacket over the back of a kitchen chair and hugged her. Kissed her on the forehead.

‘Sorry. Sorry, sorry. I know you had no choice. I know you wouldn’t let Finn in unless you had no choice.’

Of course she wouldn’t.

‘Tell me about tonight,’ she said, and he sat and she made him coffee and he told her all about the fantastic business opportunities they’d discussed-projects of mutual benefit that needed careful legal input if they were to get past council.

And all the while… Things were changing.

Some time in the last twenty-four hours the buried question had surfaced in her head and it was getting louder and louder until it was almost a drumbeat.

Why am I marrying this man?

The question was making her feel dizzy.

A week on Saturday she’d be married to Philip.

Uh-oh.

This was Raff’s fault, she thought, feeling desperate. Raff asking her…

Why did you and Dexter stop going out?

She’d shoved that memory away ten years ago, not to be thought of again. Remembering it now… How she’d felt…

Underneath the logic, did she still feel like that?

This was like waking from a coma. A million emotions were crowding in. Memories. Stupid childhood snatches. Laughter, trouble, tears, adventure, fun…

Always with Raff.

‘Philip, I…’

‘You need to go to bed,’ he said, immediately contrite. He rose. ‘I’m sorry, I forgot the headache. You should have said. Just because Finn barges his way in, welcome or not… I have a bit more finesse. You sleep well and I’ll see you in the morning. Breakfast at the yacht club? You want to come sailing afterwards?’

‘Mum’s organised the girls’ lunch at midday.’

‘Of course. So much to plan…’

So much to plan? This wedding had been organised for years.

‘Sleep well, sweetheart,’ he told her and stooped and kissed her. Dry. Dusty. He reached for his jacket…

And paused. Frowned. Felt the pockets. ‘My wallet.’

‘Your wallet?’

‘It was in my side pocket.’

‘Could you have dropped it?’

‘It was there when I got out of the car.’ He opened the front door and stared out at the path. The front light showed the path smooth and bare. ‘I always check I have my phone and my wallet when I get in and out of the car.’

Of course. Caution was Philip’s middle name.

‘I’m sure I didn’t drop it,’ he said.

Which left… She swivelled and looked for Kleppy.

Kleppy was at her bedroom door. He had something on the floor in front of him.

A wallet? Too big?

She walked over to see and he wagged his tail and beamed up at her. She was sure it was a beam. It might be the stupidest beam on the planet but it was strangely adorable.

‘What have you got?’

It wasn’t the wallet. It was her jewellery box, the cedar box Philip’s grandfather had given her. Her heart sank. If he’d chewed it…

He hadn’t.

How had he got it down from the bedside table?

There wasn’t a mark on it. He had his paw resting proprietorially on its lid but when she bent down and took it he quivered all over with that stupid canine beam. Aren’t I fantastic? Look what I found for you!

‘That dog…’ Philip said in a voice full of foreboding.

‘He doesn’t have it,’ she said. ‘But…’

She looked more closely at Kleppy. Then she looked at her bed.

Kleppy had retrieved the box via the bed. She had a pale green quilt on her bed. The coverlet was now patterned with footprints.

She bent down and looked at Kleppy’s paws.

Dirt.

Uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh.

She looked out through the glass doors to the garden. To the fence. To where she’d dug in netting all the way along.

Lots of lovely loose soil. A great place to bury something.

Loose dirt was scattered over the grass in half a dozen places. Kleppy, it seemed, had been a little indecisive in his burial location.

‘You’re kidding me,’ Philip said, guessing exactly what had happened.

‘Uh-oh.’ What else was a girl to say?

‘You expect me to dig?’

‘No.’ She’d had enough. She was waking from a bad dream and this was part of it.

‘I’ll find it,’ she told him. ‘I’ll give it to you in the morning.’

‘Clean.’

‘Clean,’ she snapped. ‘Of course.’

‘It’s not my fault the stupid…’

‘It’s not your fault,’ she said, cutting him off. It never was. Of all the childish…

No. She was being petulant herself. She needed to get a grip. She needed to find the wallet and then think through what was important here. She needed to decide how she could do the unimaginable.

‘Of course it’s not your fault,’ she said more gently and she headed outside to start sifting dirt. ‘I took Kleppy on. I’m responsible. Go home, Philip, and let me sort the damage my way.’

‘I can help…’ he started, suddenly unsure, but she shook her head.

‘My headache’s come back,’ she said. ‘I can use a bit of quiet digging. And thinking.’

‘What do you need to think about?’

‘Weddings,’ she said. ‘And pasta makers. And dogs.’

And other stuff she wasn’t even prepared to let into the corners of her mind until Philip was out of the door.


She dug.

She should have thought and dug, but she just dug. Her mind felt as if it had been washed clear, emptied of everything.

What was happening? Everything she’d worked for over the last ten years was suddenly…nothing.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

This is just pre-wedding nerves, she told herself. But she knew it was more.

She dug.

It was strangely soothing, delving into the soft loam, methodically sifting. She should be wearing gardening gloves. She’d worn gardening gloves this afternoon when she’d laid the netting, but that was when it mattered that she kept her nails nice. That was when she was going to get married.

There was a scary thought. She sat back on her heels and thought, Did I just think that?