Page 50 of The Soulmate

Steph laughs in a way that makes me think she might fancy Dev. I consider him with fresh eyes. He’s not bad-looking. Medium height and build. Russet-coloured skin and a killer watt smile. His most attractive feature, perhaps, is the way he pays attention to people and loves to give them what they want.

Dev calls out Steph’s order to Gisele at the counter and then looks at me.

‘And you, Pippa? Another coffee?’

‘I’m fine. I’ve had too much caffeine already today. I’m a bit jittery.’

‘A chamomile tea for Pippa,’ he calls to Gisele. ‘For the jitters.’

‘Would you like to be buried or cremated?’ I ask.

He shrugs. ‘I don’t care.’

‘Funeral arrangements?’

Another shrug. ‘Whatever is easiest and cheapest.’

There’s something about his simplicity that I find humbling. I think about my own wishes. To be cremated, mingled with Gabe’s ashes and sprinkled over the lawn at the Botanic Gardens where we met and married. It felt so romantic when we decided. Now it feels silly.

‘What about a letter of wishes?’ I ask finally.

He raises his eyebrows and shakes his head to indicate he doesn’t know what I’m talking about.

‘It’s for things that don’t fit neatly into a will. For example, someone might include something such asI’d like my children to maintain an interest in the family business, orMy wife can keep living in the house until her death and then it reverts to the estate, orI’d like “Stayin’ Alive” played at my funeral.’

He laughs, and once again I find myself admiring his face.

‘Put that in my letter,’ he says.

‘What?’

‘“Stayin’ Alive”. I like it. Ironic.’

‘I know, right?’

My chamomile tea arrives as he laughs again.

He’s done the unthinkable, I realise. I am relaxed. For several minutes I haven’t thought about Gabe, about Amanda or Max Cameron. I haven’t worried about the police, or the future. He reallyisgood at this.

I sit back in my booth and lift the tea to my lips. I’ve just taken a sip when Max Cameron walks in.

46

AMANDA

AFTER

It’s satisfying to watch the moment Pippa notices Max enter the cafe. It’s as if she’s seen a ghost. She seems the type who’d be good at concealing her emotions – heaven knows, with a husband like hers you’d have to be – but at the sight of Max, her face drains of all colour.

Max hasn’t seen her yet. He’s come in to order a coffee. There’s a Nespresso machine at our Portsea house – not that Max would even try to use it. He’d already come to The Pantry last night to collect some dinner. Classic Max; once he is on to a good thing, he sticks to it.

What’s your plan, Max?I ask him silently.

He’s dressed in his version of casual – a pair of chinos, a white shirt, a navy V-neck jumper – but instead of wearing boat shoes he’s wearing his sneakers. He must be planning to do some walking. He’s been to the Gerards’ street last night and then again this morning, but he failed to persuade the neighbours to reveal Gabe’s address. Perhaps he’s headed to the trail behind the Gerards’ house, the one that leads to The Drop? That’s how I located them too. Any local person can tell you where The Drop is. Once you’re there, only two, maybe three houses have a direct view of it. I’d planned to try each of them, but I hadn’t had to. Gabe came tome! I suspect that he wouldn’t do that for Max, however.

‘Just a large flat white to go,’ Max says to the young man who greets him at the counter. ‘Also, I’m wondering if you could help me.’

The helpful man at the counter gives Max all the info he needs about The Drop, including a travel brochure with a map on which he draws a circle. Max is most grateful and when he pays for the coffee he adds a generous tip. He has no idea that Pippa Gerard is sitting just metres away from him. While he waits for his coffee, she gathers up her laptop and slips out the side door.