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the rims. Tess is glowing. Her dad has allowed her a glass of wine to celebrate; her mum is smiling and even engaging in the conversation.
    â€˜So babe, the finals,’ he says excitedly. ‘I can’t wait.’
    His enthusiasm blankets her. Tess smiles widely. ‘Me too, Dad. Who’d have thought, hey? Team Loser could be Team Winner.’
    â€˜Don’t say that, Tess.’ Her dad shakes his head. ‘You guys were never Team Loser. You were just inexperienced up against so many well-established teams.’
    â€˜Anyway,’ her mum pipes in, ‘you now have the chance to show them all what you’ve really got. I’m so proud of you, honey.’
    Tess smiles at her mum. So proud of you. She can’t remember a time when she ever felt so special.
    When the waiter arrives with their food, Tess has a momentary feeling of alarm. The fish portion is large, and the sauce is on it, not on the side as she requested. She smiles at the waiter, doesn’t breathe a word and pretends she’s impressed with the meal.
    â€˜How’s the fish?’ her dad asks, slicing a piece of his steak.
    â€˜A bit bony,’ she says, pushing chunks of the white flesh to the sides of her plate and eyeing it dubiously. ‘But the bits without are delicious.’
    She eats small mouthfuls and chews until they are almost liquid, scattering the rest of the food around the edges of the plate, making it look like there’s less there than there really is.
    They eat in silence. It’s been a while since they’ve dined out as a family, and they are out of practice.
    â€˜So what are you going to do when the finals are over? No training for a few months?’ her dad asks finally.
    â€˜I don’t know,’ Tess says. What will she do to fill the gap? She’ll need something. ‘I was watching some of the girls playing tennis the other day. That might be fun.’
    â€˜Tennis,’ her mum says. ‘Oh Tess, that’s a wonderful game. Do you know when I was your age I was a state player?’
    Tess knows this, of course, but shakes her head, encouraging her mum to keep talking. These moments are so precious to her, she doesn’t care if she has to hear repeats. Her dad interjects occasionally, reminding her mum of funny stories on the court.
    â€˜Tell Tess about the time you whacked the umpire with your racquet,’ he says, laughing.
    Annelise’s face brightens again. ‘Oh Liam, you know that wasn’t one of my finer moments.’ She shakes her head, her golden ponytail swinging behind her.
    The candlelight illuminates her face and Tess watches her mother in wonder. She is so beautiful, poised and clever. Why can’t she always be like this instead of hiding inside that dark, sorrowful shell she inhabits too much of the time?
    â€˜He’d called my ball out. The man was blind. I was angry. It felt like I’d been playing my opponent and the umpire all game.’ Annelise shrugs her shoulders defiantly. ‘Anyway, I knew I shouldn’t have argued—it’s against the Rules of Conduct—but I’d had enough. You know?’
    Tess nods—she knows exactly what that’s like.
    â€˜So I told him to go and get his eyes checked, and he told me to move my bony arse back to my side of the court.’
    â€˜He said what?’ Tess is impressed, reminded of how, back before Brodie, her mum would never take crap from anyone. ‘Your bony arse?’
    â€˜Yes.’ Her mum sips her wine. ‘I said to him, “Sir, my arse may be bony but your face is really ugly. I can always fatten up—but you can never look any better than you do right now.”’
    Tess and her dad are laughing loudly now. Several other people in the restaurant look their way.
    â€˜Oh Mum, that’s so funny.’ Tess wipes the tears from her eyes. ‘What happened next?’
    â€˜He said, “Little girl, you have