It also made her belatedly angry with Saskia, and with herself for being so oblivious to the true extent of how much it had affected him, and how much it might always affect him.

Once, when Gracie was only a few weeks old, she and Patrick were watching a documentary together about a woman who had been stalked for years by her ex-husband.

“That’s what I felt like,” said Patrick at one point.

Ellen had been startled. She hadn’t been thinking about Patrick at all.

She was horrified with herself. She hadn’t even registered that he would be thinking about his own experiences with Saskia. Her sympathies had been entirely with the woman in the documentary. How terrible for her! There was no excuse for the ex-husband’s behavior; she had no interest in wondering about his motivations. He was just plain bad: a villain who should be punished to the full extent of the law. As Ellen sat there with Gracie asleep on her shoulder, while the woman on the television cried, it struck her that she’d given Patrick none of the empathy or concern she was currently giving to a woman she’d never met. Her prejudice, her blindness, had been quite breathtaking.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” she’d said to Patrick.

“Oh, well, worse for a woman.” Patrick had shrugged.

When they were driving, Patrick still automatically checked the rear-vision mirror more than the average driver, and whenever they walked into a restaurant his eyes still swept the room, as if he’d been a spy in a past life, but he did it without that furrowed brow and that wary, defensive look. His insomnia had gone and he was more energetic. He looked younger. “I feel like I’m in remission from some terrible illness,” he told Ellen. “Every time I check my phone or my e-mail and I don’t see Saskia’s name, it’s like I’ve won a prize.”

Ellen and Patrick still hadn’t got around to getting married, but they had begun idly, pleasantly talking about it again and what sort of day they’d like. Patrick was still keen on an overseas wedding, which meant, Ellen guessed, that he wasn’t completely cured—he still thought there was a chance that Saskia could turn up.

Ellen wondered if Saskia had moved out of Sydney, as she’d suggested. She wondered if she was still suffering from her leg pain, and if she’d finally met someone new. These were facts she would have really liked to know, but she was too superstitious to even Google Saskia’s name, in case doing so would somehow make her materialize back into their lives.

She watched as Patrick finished putting up the umbrella and took the baby from Jack. He swung her up into the air. Ellen knew how she’d be giggling, clutching at his hair. Her giggles were fat and delicious, the most edible sound Ellen had ever heard.

Jack went running across the sand near the water and did a handstand, walking on his hands for a few seconds, his legs straight and tall.

“Careful,” she murmured to the glass.

This morning at breakfast he’d been talking with her about the upcoming athletics carnival. “I told everyone that you’ll win the mothers’ race because you’ll hypnotize all the other mums! Pow, pow, pow! They’ll fall to the ground!”

She’d been thrilled by the casual, unconscious way he’d referred to her as one of the mums, and she’d sent a mental note of apology to Colleen.

She thought of how it would feel if she knew she was going to die and someone else was going to be there to bring up Grace. Before she had a baby she’d taken a secret, melancholy pleasure in imagining her own funeral. Now the thought of someone else making decisions about Gracie’s life was unbearable.

I’m so sorry it worked out this way, Colleen, but I promise I’m doing my best. And I love Jack. I really do love him.

Although not so much that it hurt, not the way that she loved Gracie.

But that was OK, she thought, that wasn’t something to lie awake at night worrying about. There were all sorts of ways to love. She thought of the new relationship she was forming with her own father, the growing fondness and respect. Just because it wasn’t the same as the relationship he had with his sons didn’t mean that it wasn’t something special.

Of course, Jack was a child, not an adult, and perhaps if he unconsciously sensed that Ellen didn’t love him in the same painful way as she loved Gracie, it would do untold damage to his psyche. So she probably should devote a few late nights to worrying about whether or not she was an evil stepmother.

She sighed. If only she could win the mothers’ race! Unfortunately, she was a terrible runner. She was seriously considering faking an injury.

Now Jack was running around the umbrella in circles, probably kicking sand onto Patrick and into the baby’s eyes. Hmm. He didn’t look too damaged.

The doorbell rang.

She was seeing a new client who had found her on the Internet. On the phone he’d sounded abrupt and doubtful—and desperate. He said he wanted help quitting smoking, but Ellen suspected that something else was really the problem. She knew she was his last resort.

Ellen gave her family a final glance, and turned around to go downstairs to see how she could help.

Chapter 28

“Will you please tell my daughter how much I love her?”

—Saskia’s mother’s last words, whispered to a nurse who

was crouched down by the side of the bed trying to

untangle a cord on the drip. “Pardon?” she said

irritably, but it was too late.

I didn’t do everything the hypnotist told me, but I did see a psychiatrist, once a week for over a year.