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“Melly, slow down.”

Mel takes a breath. “I’m sorry.” She’s on the verge of crying again. “I’m sorry. I know how proud you are of me. And I’ve tried, I really have, to keep going, to make it work. But I don’t think I can—”

“Mel,” her mum interrupts firmly. “We don’t care what you do.”

“You…You don’t?”

“I have been so, so proud of you—look what you’ve accomplished! I always knew you were destined for great things.”

“Exactly,” Mel murmurs. “If I’m not running it anymore, I won’t still be great, will I?”

“Your happiness is more important. Do you know, that’s something that’s really hit home, traveling out here.” Her mum takes an audible breath. “I’m sorry if I made you feel pressured to live up to expectations, Mel.” There is a muttering in the background from her dad, and her mum continues. “I’m sorry that I made you feel pressured. I just wanted you to have opportunities, to believe you could do things, not to settle if you wanted more. But I didn’t mean that you had to do anything, and I know it might have come across that way.” She sighs. “I was trying to do the right thing. But I suppose you never quite know what that is.” It’s so close to what Susan said, and that makes Mel tear up. The idea that Susan blames herself for anything in her children’s past.

“If you want to quit, then you quit,” her mum continues. “You could come and live with us if you’re a bit tight for money. Couldn’t she, Gavin?”

“Love to have you,” her dad says, full of such sincerity that Mel is welling up again.

“I don’t want to quit,” she says on a deep breath. “I just don’t want to run it all myself anymore. I want to do some bits—the bits I love.” And to think she was so worried about admitting that. So worried about not letting anyone down, when all this time her parents didn’t care. Or, more accurately, they didn’t mind. She was trying to live up to expectations that just didn’t exist, and she wants to laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

“Well, that sounds wonderful!” her mum exclaims. “Though I think I’ll still do my business degree,” she muses. “Or maybe I’ll do a computer science one. Apparently, that’s all the rage these days.”

“I think you have to like computers for that,” her dad says.

“Maybe I could learn to like them. You know, like you taught yourself to like chili.”

Mel’s phone beeps in her ear with an incoming call. “I’ve got to go. Someone is calling me.”

“Okay, love, keep us posted about—”

But Mel has already hung up. She thinks it might be Hattie—or Finn—but it’s Priya, calling on WhatsApp.

She answers.

“Hey,” Priya says. “I saw you were online and I thought maybe we could—”

Mel immediately bursts into tears—why can she not stop—and has to explain the whole thing again. She tells Priya about Susan and about the fact she knew, and about Finn, and how it’s all such a bloody mess.

Priya takes it all in, offering the occasional brief comment or asking for clarity, but mostly just lets Mel talk. When she’s done, Priya speaks.

“Well, I think I need to state the obvious here and say that none of this is your fault.”

That elicits another sob from Mel. “I’m sorry. You called me and you get this.”

“That’s what friends are for,” Priya says firmly.

“Right. But now tell me why you were calling. Distract me. God. Please distract me. I can’t bear to keep talking about this. I’m going round in circles.”

“Okay…I hate Australia.” It is said exactly like Mel has just admitted to her parents that she hates her job.

“What? But you said you loved it!”

“I lied. I’m so lonely out here, Mel. I think I made a mistake quitting my job, moving here—who do I think I am, Julia Roberts?”

“Ah…”

“Eat Pray Love.”

“I’m not sure that was—”