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affectionate diminutive. You never used to mind.’
    She flapped her hand at him dismissively, and stalked off. But the stiffness across her lower back made it feel like her bum was sticking out, like a waddling duck , she thought disgustedly, and she hated Angus for watching her. She reached the study and closed the door with dignified firmness behind her, then realised she’d left her cup of coffee on the kitchen bench. She hesitated, opened the door. Angus was walking towards her with the cup in his hand. She took it from him silently and closed the door again.
    ‘That’s okay, darling,’ she heard her husband say. She pressed her lips together and sat back down at the computer. As the screen filled with text a voice inside her head said, God, you’re mean! Can’t you just be nice to him? She gave a tiny groan. I know, I know , she thought. I’ll make it up to him later. Once I’m finished – Damn, another error! Deborah swooped the cursor onto it, narrowing her eyes. Her back slumped and she didn’t even notice.
    Olivia was walking over to her grandfather’s house that Saturday morning with Mintie and Fly-by. It was quicker to ride, of course, but then she couldn’t take both dogs. Mintie was fine running beside the bike, but Fly-by was an absolute idiot, charging across in front of her and panicking if another bike came up silently behind them. Every dog has at least one unchangeable quirk, and that was Fly-by’s.But walking, they were no problem. And Grandpa would give her a lift back later in the afternoon.
    Olivia’s route from North Fitzroy to her grandfather’s in Alphington was carefully planned, taking advantage of every off-leash area along the way. Through a series of parks, beside the Merri Creek and at one point the Yarra river; there were few roads to cross and when she got to them, she always leashed the dogs. When she was little her mum or dad had walked or ridden with her, but a few years ago she had persuaded her parents to let her make the trip by herself. Well, herself and her border collie.
    She’d stood in her prime eavesdropping spot, on the other side of a carefully just-barely-opened living room door, as they discussed it.
    ‘I don’t know, Angus. She’s only nine. It’s quite a way to go on her own,’ her mother had said.
    ‘Yeah, but she’s used to it, and she certainly knows the way,’ said her dad.
    ‘She’d have to stick to the agreed route.’
    ‘We know she’ll do that. She hasn’t changed her walk to school by as much as a house-block in four years!’
    ‘And only with the dogs. Mintie’s so devoted, she wouldn’t leave her side for an instant.’
    ‘And she’d tear the throat out of anyone who tried to have a go at her,’ her father said.
    ‘I think we’ll have to get her a mobile phone. For emergencies. And she has to ring us as soon as she gets to Dad’s.’
    ‘Definitely.’
    ‘Oh, god!’ Olivia heard the muted thud as her mother suddenly slapped both hands down on the leather arms of her chair. ‘ Why is she so insistent about doing every darn thing on her own! Do you really think it’s okay, Angus?’
    ‘I think so, darling, yes. And the thing is… she’ll just keep on at us till we agree, we both know that.’
    On the other side of the door, Olivia had smiled, and she smiledagain now as she walked, remembering. Even these days, when her parents argued about a lot of things, they still never argued about her. She put that down to good training. It was just like with the dogs – not that her parents were dogs, of course. But Olivia liked orderly routines, she always had, and she had noticed that just about everyone – humans, plants, animals – was happier that way. Logical, familiar, satisfying routines. They made things so much better.
    And even with parents, it’s not as though it’s hard. Tell them what keeps them happy. Do what you say you’re going to do. Treat them like they’re reasonable creatures even, no, especially when