‘Being right’s not the point, though.’
Sadie blinked, clearly surprised. I didn’t blame her. That wasn’t a sentence I ever expected to come out of my mouth either.
‘No wonder Fi didn’t tell me about Matt leaving,’ I said numbly. ‘She wouldn’t have thought there’d be any point. That I’d just laugh and sayI told you soand make her feel worse than she already does.’
I took off my glasses and scrubbed my hand over my eyes. ‘And when I think of her all on her own in Hobart,’ I said, voice hoarse, ‘so alone, so isolated, having everything me and my family ever said about her marriage be proven right – having to crawl to my fucking arsehole of a dad for money so she can look after her kids…’
I had to stop. The lump in my throat was so large it was making me feel almost nauseous. My eyes were burning with all the tears I was trying not to shed. I was on the verge of completely falling apart.
And Sadie Shaw, the woman who had devoted the better part of her life to breaking me?
This blessed woman just leaned back in her chair, eyeballed me, and with a tone as dry as a desert said, ‘So what I’m hearing is that this isn’t the greatest birthday you’ve ever had.’
My laugh was so sudden it surprised me, like she’d reached past my conscious mind and pulled it straight out of my body. ‘You know what? I don’t think either of my parents even remembered to wish me happy… What are you doing?’
Sadie was on her feet, reaching on tiptoes to grab a mug from a cupboard that was slightly too high for her, and then disappearing into the pantry. ‘No one should have a birthday that shit, Fisher. Even you.’
She emerged with flour, cocoa and sugar under one arm. The flour bag hadn’t been sealed properly, and there was a white smudge of it on her camisole. ‘The eggs in the fridge are yours, right? Can I use one?’
‘What for?’
She took that as a yes. ‘Chess used to make this for me when I was growing up, whenever I had a shitty day. It’s the epitome of cheap and cheerful. It’s not going to be up to yourSuperchefstandards, but you should have at least a little bit of cheer on your birthday.’
Sadie poured the ingredients into the mug, mixed vigorously, then put it into the microwave. The proportions were definitely wrong, but I bit my tongue. ‘This really isn’t necessary,’ I said instead.
‘Shut up, Jonah. Let me be nice to you for a second.’
‘You’re never nice to me.’
‘It’s your birthday. There’s a special provision in the treaty.’
‘Really?’
‘There’s also a special provision for talking shit about your dad. I’m happy to do that whenever you want.Whenever.’
I was treated to a flash of her brilliant smile before the microwave dinged. ‘I’m not sure it’s all the way cooked, but that’s fine,’ she said, wobbling the mug experimentally. ‘I always liked them a bit under anyway. More of a gooey centre.’
She set it down in front of me, along with a spoon. She’d made me a chocolate mug cake, rising lopsidedly out of the mug, listing to the left, just like her topknot.
The lump swelled anew in my throat. The only person who had ever done anything even remotely like this for me before was Fiona.
‘Go on, then, eat,’ Sadie said, sitting back down, as casually as if she were sitting opposite any of our other housemates. ‘If you’re waiting for me to sing “Happy Birthday”, you’re going to be waiting a long fucking time.’
‘Good,’ I managed to say. ‘I’ve heard you singing in the shower. I definitely don’t need a private show.’
‘You should be so lucky.’
I took a bite of the cake. I’d been right about her mixing up the proportions. There was way too much cocoa, way too little sugar, and it was incredibly bitter. ‘This is delicious,’ I said. ‘Thank you.’
Sadie eyeballed me for a few seconds before she reached across the table. She didn’t hold her hand out for me to shake, like she had during some of our other ceasefires. Instead, she laid it on top of mine, her palm warm against my knuckles.
‘Truce?’ she asked.
I turned my hand over so we were palm to palm, my fingers loosely clasped around hers.
‘Truce,’ I said. ‘Thank you, Sadie. Tonight… You… Thank you for listening.’
‘You’re welcome.’
