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    Daniela heard hoots of ‘What’s up boss?’ from the guys.
    ‘What are the details of your brother’s party?’ she asked. ‘I’d love to come.’
    It was time to go hunting.

Chapter 4 Clementine
     
    Clementine threw her arm over her buzzing handbag to smother the sound. It hummed again. There were people all around. What if they heard? But none of the busy commuters jostling up and down Foveaux Street cared about her phone. They didn’t wrestle her to the ground, screaming ‘adulterer’, like she expected them to. She reached into the outer pocket of her satchel and pulled out a bottle of vitamins. B 12 for nerves, and C to help her sleep. She was exhausted.
    Her phone had been going off all day, interrupting her clients’ sessions and derailing her train of thought. It was set to silent, but she could still detect the muffled rattle as it shook against her personal organiser. Every rumble represented another message from Jason. An entreaty, a plea, an excuse. After each appointment Clementine pounced on the phone and greedily devoured the messages before the next client arrived. Some of them were sweet. Some were not. About 3.30 she was almost caught by Caitlin Messner, a twice-divorced mother of four.
    ‘I really need you today, Ms Crosley,’ Caitlin said, dropping heavily into the chair opposite Clementine’s desk. ‘Are you …?’
    ‘What?’ Clementine said, stuffing the phone back into her bag. Her sweaty palm covered the screen and the incriminating words I can’t stop thinking about your smooth, soft …
    Clementine half expected Caitlin to say: ‘Are you reading career-destroying text messages from a married man?’
    But she didn’t. She simply asked whether Clementine was too hot. ‘Your face is red and sort of blotchy.’
    ‘No, no, I’m fine,’ Clem said, walking across her office and opening a window.
    She had re-read the message after Caitlin had left, biting down on the heel of her hand the whole time. Now, she was tempted to sneak another look. Instead, she stopped at a corner store and bought a litre of water. She sucked down half the bottle and told herself she didn’t need Jason.
    Then she headed to the first official meeting of the husband-hunters.
    The venue was Pucci, a Surry Hills micro-bar Annabel had insisted they try. Clementine pushed open the upholstered door to discover walls swirling with ‘sixties prints. For the fiftieth time that day, she checked her phone. Another message: Remember Byron Bay? Her cheeks burned. She did remember Byron Bay; three whole days together, and a deserted beach where they’d left their bathers on the sand and swum out to salt-crusted buoys. She spotted Dani and hid her phone away.
    ‘Are you ready for this?’ Clem asked as she took a seat next to a psychedelic panel.
    ‘Ready? I could have saved myself two decades of fighting with Ma if we’d thought of this at uni. Honestly, I’d marry a Mormon if I thought it would get her off my—’ She stopped mid-sentence. ‘Oh, Clem, I’m sorry.’ Her brown eyes widened, stricken. ‘I didn’t mean to—’
    ‘Dani, it’s fine.’ Clem reached for the wine list. ‘I completely understand. Mum and I used to bicker all the time.’
    ‘I don’t mean to complain about her. Really.’
    ‘Don’t worry about it.’ Clementine put her hand over Daniela’s. ‘I want to hear all about your ma. Don’t … don’t feel like you have to tiptoe around me. It’s been years.’
    Dani nodded, but still looked warily apologetic.
    ‘Hello there!’
    Annabel arrived in a miniskirt and satin high heels that matched her aquamarine eyes. The day had been punctuated by several short, hazy sun-showers, and her near-white hair had fluffed-up in the damp air. It looked like gilt fairy-floss.
    ‘I can’t believe we’re really doing this,’ she said, taking a seat. ‘It’s kind of exciting.’
    ‘I know,’ said Clementine, idly checking her phone again.
    ‘You’re not still thinking