Nine Perfect Strangers

Then there was Jessica’s mother, who acted as if the win were a catastrophe.

‘You have to be so careful, Jessica,’ she said. ‘This kind of money can send people off the rails.’

It was true that there had been some unexpected difficulties with this new life. Some tricky situations they were still trying to unravel. Friendships they’d lost. One family estrangement. Two family estrangements. No. Three.

Ben’s cousin, who thought they should have paid off his mortgage. They gave him a car. Jessica thought that was generous! Ben liked his cousin, but he barely saw him before the win. In the end, they did pay off his mortgage, but ‘the damage had been done’. For God’s sake.

Jessica’s younger sister. They gave her a million dollars but she kept asking for more, more, more. Ben said, ‘Just give it to her,’ and they did, but then one day Jessica went out to lunch with her and didn’t offer to pay the bill, and now they weren’t talking. Jessica’s heart clenched as she thought about it. She always paid the bill. Always. It was the one time she didn’t and, supposedly, that was unforgivable.

Ben’s stepdad, because Ben’s stepdad was a financial planner and he’d assumed that he’d manage all their finances now that they had finances – but Ben thought his stepdad was an idiot and didn’t want him near their money, so that was awkward. Ben could have kept his opinions about his stepdad a secret forever if it wasn’t for winning the lottery.

And of course, Ben’s sister. How could they give her money? How could they not give her money? Ben and his mother had agonised over what to do. They tried to do it all the right way, the careful way. They set up a trust fund. They never gave her cash, but cash was all she wanted. When they bought her a car she sold it within two weeks. She sold anything they bought her. She screamed ugly words at poor Ben: You rich prick with your fancy car, you won’t even help out your own family. They spent thousands and thousands on expensive rehab programs that Ben’s mother had once dreamed about, assuming those exclusive programs would be the answer, if only they had the money. But once they had the money they found out that those weren’t the answer. It just went on and on. Ben kept thinking there had to be a solution. Jessica knew there was no solution. Lucy didn’t want help.

And it wasn’t just their family who thought Ben and Jessica should give them money. Every day they were contacted by long-lost relatives and friends, and friends of friends, asking for ‘loans’ or a ‘helping hand’ or wanting Ben and Jessica to support their favourite charity, their local school, their kids’ soccer club. Family members they hadn’t seen in years got in touch. Family members they didn’t know existed got in touch. The requests often had a passive-aggressive edge: ‘Ten thousand dollars is probably small change to you but it would mean a huge amount to us.’

‘Just give it to them.’ That was Ben’s constant refrain, but sometimes it got Jessica’s back up. The nerve of these people.

It was bewildering to Jessica that she and Ben fought more about money now that they had an abundance of it. It was impossible to even imagine they’d once felt so upset about the arrival of unexpected bills.

Becoming instantly wealthy was like starting a really stressful, glamorous job for which they had no qualifications or experience, but still, it was a pretty great job. It was hardly something to complain about. There was no need to ruin it, as Ben seemed intent on doing.

She sometimes wondered if Ben regretted winning the money. He told her once that he missed working. ‘Start your own business then,’ she’d said. They could do anything! But he said he couldn’t compete with Pete, his old boss. He was like his sister; he didn’t want a solution to his problems.

He said that he didn’t like their ‘snooty new neighbours’ and Jessica pointed out that they didn’t even know them and offered to invite some of them over for drinks, but Ben looked horrified at the idea. It wasn’t like they’d really known their neighbours back at the old flat. Everyone had worked full-time and kept to themselves.

He enjoyed the luxury holidays they took, but even the travel didn’t truly make him happy. Jessica remembered a night watching the sun set in Santorini. It was incredible, gorgeous, and she’d just bought a stunning bracelet for herself, and she’d looked across at Ben, who was deep in what seemed like profound thought, and she said, ‘What are you thinking about?’

‘Lucy,’ he answered. ‘I remember she used to talk about travelling to the Greek islands.’

It made her want to scream and scream because they could afford to send Lucy to Santorini and put her up at a great hotel, but that wasn’t possible because Lucy preferred to stick needles in her arms. So fine, let her ruin her own life, but why did she have to ruin their lives as well?

The car was the one thing about the lottery win that made him happy. He didn’t really care about any of the other things – not the beautiful house in the best part of Toorak, the concert tickets, the designer labels, the travel. Only the car. His dream car. God, how she hated that car.

Jessica realised with a start that people were standing, straightening their unflattering gowns, suppressing yawns.

She got to her feet and looked at the starry sky one last time, but there were no answers up there.

chapter seventeen

Frances

It was only eight in the morning and Frances was hiking.

It was going to be another hot summer’s day, but the temperature at this hour was perfect, the air silky soft on her skin. There was no sound apart from the occasional sweet piercing call of a bellbird and the cracks and rustles of sticks and rocks beneath her feet on the rocky trail.

She felt like she’d been up for hours, which in fact she had been.

Today, her first full day at Tranquillum House, had begun before dawn (before dawn!) with a firm knock at her bedroom door.

Frances had stumbled out of bed and opened t

he door to find the corridor empty and a silver tray on the floor, with her morning smoothie and a sealed envelope containing her ‘personalised daily schedule’.

She had got back into bed to drink the smoothie with a pillow propped up behind her back while she read her schedule with equal parts pleasure and horror:

DAILY SCHEDULE FOR FRANCES WELTY

Dawn: Tai chi class in the rose garden.