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losing everything.’
    â€˜I know.’ Mattie nodded and then looked at her sister searchingly. ‘But what you have to understand is that the other way, I was losing
me
. And that means that I would have ended up losing everything anyway.’
    Hannah stared at her for a moment and then shook her head, puzzled. ‘I’ll just have to hope, for your sake, that you know what you’re doing, because I really don’t understand. At all.’
    â€˜No, I don’t suppose you do.’ Mattie watched as her sister unlocked the car and got in. Then she spoke under her breath. ‘And you ought to be
glad
you don’t. Because I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.’
    Â 
    T hey held their first dinner party while house-sitting a work colleague’s home and waiting to move into their own. Meticulous planning went into every detail – who to invite, what to serve, which music to play, how to decorate. In the end they invited eight people, a mixture of friends and family. And they dressed the table with wedding presents of crockery, cutlery and crystal. Mattie raided the garden for huge sprays of wattle and fernery for a centrepiece, and Jake folded the serviettes into little opera houses that squatted before each carefully laid place setting
.
    For starters they served some type of seafood dish, Mattie couldn’t remember what exactly. But the main course had been delicious – a creamy chicken and asparagus dish that Jake found in a recipe book and cooked to perfection. They presented it with a green salad and crusty bread rolls. And for dessert there was chocolate and rum mousse topped with whipped cream and curly slivers of dark chocolate
.
    The evening was a huge success. Sublime, sociable, relaxing. After dinner they took their glasses out to the patio where they sat and talked about plans and promises. There was a magnificent lavender bush by the French doors, and the pungent, cloying smell of the fresh lavender seemed almost more intoxicating than the wine. And Mattie had basted in her pleasure, buoyed by the idea that this evening would be the first of many where friends were always welcome and good food and wine simply oiled the contentment that was her life
.
    After everybody left, Jake and Mattie went back outside and listened to music. And when Meatloaf came on with the song ‘Two out of three ain’t bad’, they took it in turns to sing it to each other, only harmonising when it came to the chorus. By the end of the song they were both laughing so hard they could hardly get the words out
.

THREE
    M attie started peeling and slicing potatoes at the kitchen sink just after five o’clock on Sunday afternoon, flipping the pallid segments into a large pot of boiling water on the stove. It had been a busy day, but the dividends were evident throughout the transformed unit. A huge grocery shop had filled the cupboards and provided odd necessities like scissors and light-globes and pot pourri to banish the last of the stale smell. Even though it severely dented her available funds, the investment had been well worth it, bestowing a sense of permanency hitherto largely absent. Now everything that needed to be unpacked was unpacked, with the boxes flattened and stacked in the laundry. And although the furniture was sparse, the walls bare and the windows covered with odd spare sheets, it felt as if she had now
stamped
the rooms. Marked her territory. A few cushions, some framed photos, an open book, the rich smell of food cooking – and a cluster of featureless rooms suddenly metamorphosed into a home.
    Mattie opened the oven and stirred the casserole of braised beef in red wine, breathing in the rich aroma with satisfaction. As she slid it back into the oven and closed the door, a car could be heard decelerating outside before it turned off the main road and then coasted slowly down the driveway with a throbbing purr. Mattie immediately froze, waiting tensely until