“It’s my favorite,” said Madison fiercely. “Except Mum always takes ages washing it.”

Alice watched Ella watching Madison and saw how her face softened. It seemed that Nick’s sister loved Alice’s children, and judging by the way Billy was still hopefully trying to grab at Alice’s bag, searching for Smarties, Alice loved her little boy. They were aunties to each other’s children. Even if they hadn’t become stepsisters, they were family. Alice was filled with affection for her.

“You’ve grown up so beautiful and elegant,” said Alice to Ella.

“Is that a joke?” Ella stiffened and her jaw set.

“You might find Mum a bit weird tonight, Auntie Ella,” said Tom. “She’s had a traumatic head injury. I’ve printed some stuff out from the Internet if you want to read it. FYI. That means for your information. You say it when you want to tell somebody something. FYI.”

“Darling Daddy!” cried Olivia.

Nick had just walked in the door of the hall and was scanning the crowd. He was dressed in an expensive-looking suit, his collar unbuttoned, and no tie. He looked like a successful, sexy, older man. A man who made important decisions, who knew his place in the world and no longer dropped toast on his shirt before a presentation.

Nick saw the children first and his face lit up. A second later he saw Alice and his face closed down. He walked toward them and Olivia threw herself into his arms.

“Oh, I’ve missed you three roosters,” said Nick into Olivia’s neck, his voice muffled, while he reached out with one hand to ruffle Tom’s hair and the other to pat Madison on the shoulder.

“Hey, Dad, guess how many kilometers it was from our place to here,” said Tom. “Guess. Go on guess.”

“Umm, fifteen k.”

“Close! Thirteen kilometers. FYI.”

“Hey kid,” said Nick to Ella, using the nickname he’d always given Ella. Ella looked at him adoringly. Nothing had changed there. “And the kid’s kid!” He scooped up Billy into his arms, so he was holding both Olivia and Billy. Billy chortled and repeated, “Kid’s kid! Kid’s kid!”

“How are you, Alice?” His eyes were on the children. He didn’t look at her. Alice was last to be greeted. She was the least-favorite person. He used his polite voice for her.

“I’m well, thank you.” Do not under any circumstances cry. She found herself longing, bizarrely, for Dominick. For someone who liked her best. How horrible it was to be despised. To feel yourself to be despicable.

A familiar quavery voice came over the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, girls and boys, it’s my very great pleasure to welcome you all to the Tranquillity Wood Retirement Village Family Talent Night. Could I ask you all to take your seats?”

“Frannie!” said Olivia.

It was Frannie up onstage, looking rather beautiful in a royal-blue dress and speaking calmly into the microphone, although she was putting on a posh voice.

“She doesn’t look nervous,” said Madison. “If it was me, I would be so nervous talking to all these people, I would probably faint.”

“Me too,” agreed Alice.

Madison curled her lip. “No, you wouldn’t.”

“I would!” protested Alice.

There was some confusion as they all settled into their seats. Madison, Tom, and Olivia all wanted to sit next to their father, and Olivia needed to be at the end of the row so she could be ready to go up when her name was called, and she also wanted Nick and Alice to sit together, while Billy wanted to sit on Alice’s lap, which Ella clearly did not want. She finally gave in and Alice found herself with Madison on one side and Nick on the other, and Billy’s warm little body snuggled into hers. At least he liked her.

Where was Elisabeth? Alice twisted around in her seat to look for her. She was meant to be coming tonight, but maybe she’d changed her mind. Mum had called to say that the blood-test results had been negative and Elisabeth seemed fine, although a little peculiar. “I actually wondered if she was drunk,” Barb had said. Alice still had Dino’s fertility doll in her handbag to give her. Would it just upset her now? But what if she was depriving Elisabeth of its magical powers? She would ask Nick what he thought.

She glanced over at Nick’s stern profile. Could she still ask his opinion on things like that? Maybe not. Maybe he didn’t care.

When the crowd had settled down, Frannie tapped the microphone and said, “Our first act is Mary Barber’s great-granddaughter performing ‘Somewhere over the Rainbow.’”

A little girl in a glittery sequined dress, plastered with makeup (“See, Mummy?” hissed Olivia, leaning forward across Nick to look reproachfully at Alice), strode out onto the stage, shimmying her chest like an aging cabaret singer. “Jesus,” said Nick under his breath. She clasped the microphone with both hands and began to sing, her voice filled with exaggerated emotion, making the audience flinch in unison each time she hit the high notes.

She was followed by tap-dancing grandchildren in top hats and canes, a great-nephew’s magic show (“FYI, I know exactly how he did that,” Tom whispered loudly), and a niece’s gymnastic routine. Ella’s little boy got bored and started a game where he clambered from lap to lap, touching each person on the nose, saying, “Chin,” or touching them on the chin and saying, “Nose,” and then falling about laughing at his own wit.

Finally Frannie said, “Next up, Olivia Love, my own great-granddaughter, performing a routine she choreographed herself called ‘The Butterfly.’”