Bette didn’t want to be spotted meeting up with Joyce Wischnia, so she took a risk and asked the lawyer to pick a venue. Even so, Greenblatt’s deli in West Hollywood was not where she expected to find herself this Wednesday lunchtime.

‘Bette!’ Joyce was sitting in a corner of the raised seating area. Bette went towards her. The place was packed, so Joyce stood up. ‘Bette! Over here!’

Bette half waved back. She was never sure how much her run for mayor had made her recognisable in the city, but in her entire life she had never wanted to be associated with anyone wearing a lime-green motorcycle jacket.

‘Bette! Sit the heck down!’ Joyce ushered her into the seat opposite. ‘Well, well! Bette Porter!’ She pumped Bette’s hand. ‘My God . . . how the hell are you?’

‘Fine,’ Bette said, wondering why Joyce was acting as if they hadn’t seen one another for decades when in fact it had been about two months.

‘How long’s it been, Bette?’

‘About two months.’

‘No!’

‘Yes.’

‘No!!!!’

‘It was January, Joyce.’ The lawyer looked blank. ‘My fundraiser? At the Abbey?’

Joyce pointed her finger. ‘That’s right. Wow. Y’know, I think I erased that entire campaign as soon as you lost.’

Bette decided to take that on the chin, but in any case their server had arrived. Joyce ordered a turkey club while Bette went for a Cobb salad, hold the bacon.

‘C’mon, Bette . . .’ Joyce winked. ‘Little bit of salt and fat.’

The server looked at Bette but she shook her head and the man left.

‘Well,’ Bette said, indicating the room, ‘this is an interesting choice.’

‘My band just finished a rehearsal right over there.’ Joyce pointed out the window at a recording studio across the street.

‘Your b- band?’ Bette repeated, half turning but not sure she’d heard correctly.

‘The Wischbones,’ Joyce beamed, framing a billboard in the air. ‘Five-piece all-girl rockabilly with a mariachi twist.’ She handed Bette an actual stack of business cards. ‘We’re a little rough, only been going two weeks, but spread the word.’

Bette stared at the cards and mumbled, ‘Okay . . . well, uh, thanks for meeting at such short notice. I must say I was surprised you were free.’

Chapter 6

‘Morning!’

Helena Moreland-Peabody was as bright as a button this Monday morning, and Tina knew why – today was Dylan’s last day of casting in New York and tomorrow she would be home for a whole month.

‘Morning,’ said Tina.

‘Omelette okay?’

‘Perfect, thank you.’ Tina went to the circular glass table set for two. Today it also had a pewter bud vase containing a pretty flower. ‘Oh. Sticky phacella,’ she said, leaning down towards it.

Helena glanced across. ‘Kurt brought it in. They grow by the gate down at the main road.’

Tina put her phone down and looked at the plant more closely. Five wide petals in a vivid shade of royal blue with a heart like an ivory-colored doily. Tiny white stamens stuck out like aerials. I wonder why nature does that? she thought. Make the most important bit the most fragile?

‘Interesting thing in the Times today,’ Helena said.

‘Hmm?’

‘There.’ The Englishwoman indicated the copy of the LA Times she’d been reading, left open on the kitchen island. Tina reached for it. ‘Front page, lower half. That Milner character implying Bette led him up the garden path about opioids.’ Tina felt her jaw tighten as she looked for the relevant column. ‘Bloody cheek, if you ask me. I expect Bette’s about ready to bop him one.’

Tina tried to breathe calmly through her nose. She hoped it wasn’t quite as Helena described. And then she started to read.

***

Bette was walking unhurriedly back towards the cabin after a pre-breakfast stroll. Dani had woken up in an odd mood, so she’d decided to give them both some space. They’d agreed to meet at the restaurant for breakfast, after which they’d booked to go riding on the beach. Bette’s heart gave a little flip. She adored horses. Her whole life, ever since she could remember, they were her favourite animal. Tina said it figured: something-something ‘big and powerful and sexy’ but also something-something ‘smart and gentle’.

Suddenly Bette stopped in her tracks. She looked around. The forest was empty of humans. Great, towering ponderosa pines in every direction, slicing sunlight into thousands of unique geometries, and everywhere this sweet vanilla scent. So mild it was almost an ache. Delicious.

Waking up on Sunday morning, Tina realised that this was the first time in a very long time that she didn’t feel burdened. Or rather, she was aware that she finally felt her burden clearly. And she knew what she had to do to try to free herself from it.

She picked her phone up and saw that she had a missed call and a text from Bette.

Yes. A trillion times, yes. x

She put her hand over her mouth. ‘Oh God,’ she whispered. ‘Oh, thank God.’ Trying to steady her trembling, she sat back on the bed. She closed her eyes. This is it. This is my chance at fixing it. She stayed still for a long moment, focusing on her breathing to try and stem the jumble of thoughts, ideas, feelings, hopes, dreads, everything that rushed in. Then she looked at the message again. Screencapped it, as she often did with messages she treasured, and texted back: I love you so much. Speak soon. x

Aware that it was almost eight-thirty and she’d have to be on the road by ten, she showered and dressed casually in a sky-blue summer dress with sandals before going downstairs to Helena’s private kitchen for breakfast.

***

In Oregon, Dani Nunez could not believe her ears: Bette Porter, hot ex-boss and all-round general alpha goddess, was snoring. Admittedly, it was quite light, and sort of vaguely musical, but really what was irritating Dan most about this situation was that Bette was asleep at all.

She turned over in her bed for about the hundredth time and pulled the fluffy duvet tight around her ears. It was broad daylight. They’d arrived around four a.m., in darkness, and what Dani had thought was silence, but since then she’d come to realise that nature is a noisy bastard when it gets going. Owls, a deer, something that scratches, more birds, a clicking thing. And Bette sleeping and snoring through the lot.

Of course, the real problem was Sophie. Dani’s brain would not switch off the perpetual showreel of their entire relationship. In particular, it wouldn’t switch off the look on Sophie’s face when she’d finally let Dani persuade her to just go get married in Hawaii. But how . . .? How could she not have noticed that this Sophie-person saying yes was not the Sophie she knew? That something was really badly wrong?

[continued from ANOTHER LEFT TURN Chapter 4a – same day]

‘What exactly did she say?’

Micah was sitting at the breakfast bar, reading his Kindle, eating Raisin Bran and quizzing Dani while she was waiting for Bette to pick her up.

‘She said it was a road trip,’ she said.

‘And?’

‘We’re both at a loose end, so why not go on a road trip.’

‘That’s what she said? “Loose end”?’

‘More or less.’

Micah put his spoon down and held both hands up. ‘Dani, please – once again – I can’t tell you if she’s into you if you won’t tell me exactly what she said.’

‘Look,’ Dani frowned. ‘I worked for this woman for weeks. I know her better than you.’

‘As a boss, yes. But as a bae . . .’

‘She knows I’ve just broken up!’

‘And she’s just lost an election! Everyone. Is. Vulnerable.’

They stared at each other for a moment and then Dani relented. She picked up her phone and read out her and Bette’s entire text conversation about their trip. At a certain point, Micah said, ‘Whoa, stop. Back up. Read that part again.’

Dani sighed and scrolled back. ‘She said “Get the hell out of Dodge. I need it. You need it. My best friend’s out because she just picked a dog up off the street and, truth be told, I enjoy your company. Wha—” ’

‘ “I enjoy your company”?’ Micah’s eyebrows shot up.

‘So?’

‘Your company?’

‘I am good company.’

Micah laughed, scooping up more Raisin Bran. ‘She’s so into you!’

‘Is not,’ Dani said softly, feeling about fourteen years old as she put the phone away in her jacket pocket, then took it out again to re-read the texts. ‘Is she?’

Micah spoke through a mouthful of cereal. ‘Don’t even get me started on “I need it, you need it” . . .’

Suddenly Dani’s phone got a text. Outside your place.

‘She’s here,’ she said to Micah.

‘Okay, look,’ he said, getting up to give her a hug, ‘you deserve to have some fun. I wish I was going away with my hot ex-boss. So, just let happen whatever’s gonna happen. Deal with Sophie whenever she comes back.’ He drew back and kissed his housemate on the cheek. ‘You good?’

From: ben@onepointsix.com

To: tina@onepointsix.com

Subject: Leave of absence

Dearest Tina,

I’ve spoken with Wendy and she’s expecting your call as when you’re ready to make it.

As I said when we spoke, your work family is completely here for you. Keep in touch, reach out for anything you need, and know that we love you.

Yours,

Ben xxx

Dani: Checked weather. Looks ok

Bette: Thanks

Dani: NB write keysafe code somewhere analog

Bette: Ok

Dani: ie on paper

Bette: Thanks. I’ve done this before

Dani: Sorry

Bette: See you at 1 x

It was just before eleven a.m. when Tina pulled into the driveway of a large Victorian villa in Golden Hill, San Diego. She sat for a moment just listening to the hum of the electric motor then switched the car off. Sweat cooled on the back of her neck. Navigating an unfamiliar city was usually something she found exciting, but not right now.

She looked around. The neighbourhood was beautiful. Wide-spaced detached homes with mature gardens and vivid green lawns. She wondered distractedly at the water-use regulations, then reached over for her bag and took out a compact.

Her eyes looked tired. She’d flown in to LAX the night before specifically so that all she had to do was drive a couple of hours down this morning, but then barely slept anyway. Like most nights since she’d opened that package from Bette.

A tightness gripped Tina’s chest as she felt herself once more standing in the doorway of her living room, reading Bette’s note. Holding her wedding ring in her hand. That ring was now in Tina’s wallet. She’d left the note in Toronto, but took the ring with her.

A memory of Carrie’s distraught face crowded into Tina’s head, making her close her eyes and breathe slowly to try and calm herself. She had been taking Xanax almost every day for some reason or another, but she hadn’t taken any yet today. That’s good, you did good, she said to herself, folding her hands on the steering wheel and then laying her head down for a moment.

‘Was any of this real to you?’

Tina had been watching Carrie storm around their bedroom throwing things into an overnight bag. She’d just told her she didn’t think she could go ahead with the wedding.