“How are you, darling?” said Barb to Alice. “You look lovely, of course, but you’re so pale. And shadows under your eyes. There must be something going around at the moment, because Elisabeth is pea green.”

“Is Libby here?” said Alice with surprise.

“She’s there with Frannie,” said Barb, pointing up to one of the bench seats, where Elisabeth was sitting with Ben. She did look quite ill. Nausea. That must be a good sign. At least she wasn’t watching television.

Sitting next to Ben was Frannie, and next to her the white-haired man from the Family Talent Night who had organized the wheelchair races. Frannie was sitting very upright, glancing around self-consciously, but as Alice looked at her, the man said something in her ear and she clapped her hands together and burst out laughing.

“That’s Frannie’s gentleman friend,” said Barb. “Xavier. Isn’t it lovely! After all these years of holding a candle for her silly dead fiancé!”

“Her what?” said Alice. She pressed a fingertip to her forehead. She didn’t think her head could handle any fresh new surprises today.

“Her fiancé died just two weeks before their wedding. It wasn’t all that long before your father died,” said Barb calmly, as if this weren’t a huge revelation. “He went away with some mates on a camping trip and he broke his neck diving into a river. That’s why I was always telling you girls to never, ever dive anywhere without checking the depth.”

“Are you saying you knew about this all these years?” said Alice. She looked up at Frannie smiling at Xavier and tried to incorporate this sad new information about her grandmother. “And you kept it a secret?”

“No need to look so surprised,” said Barb crisply. “I can keep secrets. Frannie didn’t like to talk about it. She’s so private! She admitted to me once that she had kept on writing to him all these years, as if he was still away on holiday. She said she felt silly about it, because she knew perfectly well that he’d died, but that it was nice to keep writing to him. She’d seal the letters up and put them in a drawer. She told me she’d address them but she didn’t go so far as to waste her money putting stamps on them. So we agreed that proved she wasn’t completely deluded! It was just a funny little quirk of hers.”

“And you never said a word,” marveled Alice. The fact that her mother had kept a secret was more surprising than the secret itself.

“Although she has let the cat out of the bag now,” chortled Roger.

“Only because Frannie told me she intended to tell the girls now!” retorted Barb. “Apparently she started to tell you and Elisabeth the whole story just a few weeks ago, but then you had to go pick up the children.”

“I don’t remember,” said Alice. Her catchcry.

“Anyway, she’s finally found love again!” Barb sighed and shook her head regretfully. “If only it hadn’t taken so long!”

“She’s probably just fussy,” said Roger. “Needed to find the right fellow. Like you.”

“Oh, you!” said Barb flirtatiously, and she gleamed with happiness. “I was lucky to find you!”

“Dad was lucky to find you,” said Nick, suddenly serious. Alice’s mother looked up at him with surprise, her cheeks pink with pleasure. “Well, that’s a lovely thing to say, Nick.”

Maggie appeared again wearing a long apron that said Mega Meringue Day on the front, with a picture of a huge lemon meringue pie. Underneath it said, Mother’s Day, Sydney, 2008. She was holding another one for Alice.

“The aprons turned out beautifully, Alice!” she said as she slid the apron over Alice’s neck and tied it at her waist.

Alice looked around and saw rows of pink-aproned women lining up around the big table with the mixing bowls.

“It looks like we’re about ready to start,” said Maggie. “Is that okay with you?”

“Sure thing,” said Alice recklessly.

“You’re over here,” said Maggie. “Next to me.”

“Good luck, darling,” said Barb. “I do hope they’re careful with that oven. It’s very easy to burn the meringue on a lemon meringue pie. I remember once I was making one when your father’s boss was coming for dinner. I was terribly upset, I remember looking in the oven and thinking—”

“Come on, Barbie,” said Roger, pulling on her arm. “You can tell me the rest of the story while we’re sitting down.”

He winked at Alice as he guided her still-chattering mother into the audience, and Alice was filled with affection for him. He loved Barb—in his own self-satisfied way, he loved her.

“I’ll get the kids to come and sit down,” said Nick, and he headed off to the children’s area.

Alice went to stand beside Maggie behind the tables.

“What an event,” said the woman standing next to Alice. She had a birthmark like a burn across the bottom half of her face. “You’re a bloody marvel, Alice.”

I’m a bloody marvel, thought Alice. Her head was feeling fuzzy.

Nora stood at the microphone. “Can everybody take their seats, please? The baking is about to commence!”

Alice found Nick in the audience. He had Olivia on his lap. The fairy wings she’d insisted on wearing that day were brushing against his face. Tom was on Nick’s left, taking photos with a digital camera, and Madison was on his right, seemingly intensely interested in the proceedings. Nick said something and pointed at Alice, and all three children beamed and waved in her direction.