Struggling to find the motivation to get ready for work, I was still in my dressing gown when a knock sounded on the door at seven the next morning. Aunt Maya was waving about a laser pointer that projected tiny green paws on the wall, and our kittens, Stella and Blanche, were jumping all over it.

“Get that, will you, sweetheart?” Aunt Maya said, not even budging from where she chuckled at the cats.

Setting down the kettle I was in the middle of filling, I tightened the sash around my waist and headed for the front door. The moment I saw the shadows through the stained-glass panels I knew it was the police. Oh no.

“One moment,” I called out, pausing at the hall stand and studying my expression in the mirror. I practised my shocked face for the moment they told me the money was gone. I tried one with wide eyes and an open mouth and decided that looked too contrived. Then I went with wide eyes only, which seemed to work a lot better. I practised a few more times, making sure I was ready to perform on cue. Then I whispered a couple of responses.

“That’s horrible. Who would do such a thing? We needed that money to upgrade the sound system in the auditorium.” God, I really was a terrible actor.

“We’re looking for a Mrs Holland Cartwright,” the police called out, knocking again.

“I’m coming.” Gulping, I met my eyes in the mirror and took a breath. “Showtime,” I whispered.

“Mrs Cartwright?” The officer took his hat off his head and held it against his chest when I opened the door.

“Yes,” I responded, a little off balance by the action coupled with a very sombre-looking expression on the female officer’s face who accompanied him. It was terrible that the money was taken from the school, but surely they didn’t feel that horrible about delivering the news. And how did they know already? No one would even be in the office until eight. “Has something happened?”

The male officer gulped and looked at the female officer, who stepped forwards. “Is it possible to come inside, Mrs Cartwright? Somewhere we can sit, perhaps?”

“Sit? Why?” What’s going on? This isn’t want I was expecting.

I moved to let them inside, gesturing for them to sit in the lounge.

“Who was it?” Aunt Maya called out.

“It’s the police, Aunty.”

She arrived in less than a beat of my rapid heart. “Has something happened?”

“We were hoping we could sit down.”

“Who died?” she blurted. “You don’t ask to sit like this unless it’s bad.” Her eyes were wide. She’d been through this before, the night my parents died. Oh God.

“If we could please just sit down,” the female officer responded.

Both Aunt Maya and I sat with straight backs as we stared at the officers. I didn’t even want to think about what they were about to say to me. Who could they possibly be coming to tell me about? The only family I had was in the house right beside me.

There was only one other person who would earn me an official visit.

Nate.

No. no. no. no. no. no.

My entire body trembled as I grabbed Aunt Maya’s hand and squeezed. Tears fell silently. I quit breathing.

“We’re sorry to report, Mrs Cartwright, but your husband has been in an accident.”

My breath burned in my lungs and escaped in a pained gasp. I clapped my hand over my mouth and shook my head. No.

“What happened?” Aunt Maya asked, wrapping her arm around my shoulders as I held her hand for dear life.

“A bushfire broke out along the coast yesterday afternoon. It got out of control very fast, and it seems that his car got caught in its path with Mr Cartwright inside. We’re so very sorry, ma’am.”

Oh God. Nate. My beautiful Nate.

Wait. What did they say?

“Yesterday afternoon?” I asked, struggling to see through my tears.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And he… he died?”

The male officer nodded. “I'm sorry.”

“But….” I frowned and shook my head. “Are they sure it was him?”

“The coroner confirmed it a short while ago. We came to inform you as soon as possible.”

“But I—” I stopped myself from saying any more. What’s going on? I saw Nate last night with my own eyes. He was there, I know it.

“We’re so very sorry, Mrs Cartwright.”

After going over a few formal details, we walked the officers to the door and watched them go, standing silently until they drove away.

“I’m so sorry, pet,” Aunt Maya said, rubbing her hand up and down my back.

Pushing the front door shut, I shook my head. “He’s not dead.”

She gave me this pitiful look that told me she thought I was in denial.

“You don’t get it. I saw him. Last night at the performance.”

Her look didn’t really change much.

“Did you speak to him?” she asked.

“No. I saw him in the back of the audience. He was smiling and clapping with everyone else. I saw him.”

“Oh, honey,” she said, gently stroking the side of my face. “When your mother died, I swore I saw her sitting beside me on the couch. But it wasn’t her, it was just a random dream I had while waiting for them to come back from dinner.”

“This wasn’t a dream, Aunty. I was awake, standing on stage.” Why doesn’t she believe me?

“Some people think it’s their way of saying goodbye to the people who are most important to them—their way of letting you know they’re OK.”

“No.” I pulled away from her. “No. I saw him. He isn’t dead. They’re wrong.”

“Where are you going, Holland?”

“I’m going to check for myself.” I grabbed my bag and keys, then shoved my feet into a pair of shoes. I was going to drive out to Torquay and demand answers. This wasn’t happening. I saw him.

“Maybe you should get dressed first.”

I looked down at the robe I was still wearing. Feeling too panicked, I shook my head. “I don’t have time,” I ground out, marching for the door. “He’s not gone! I’d feel it if he were gone. I’d feel it right here.” I jammed my finger into my chest, then threw the door open.

I saw Aunt Maya’s expression change, but I didn’t register what it meant until I slammed into a massive wall of muscle in my haste to leave.

Two big beautiful hands caught me. “Duchess.”

“Oh thank God.”