She stares back at the house. “Past is past. The dead don’t come back. Maybe it’s best just to let them go.” She gives me a bright smile, like she’s just realized who she’s talking to. “Anyway. Tea?”

I stare at her. The clink of the spoon comes from far away, a muffled underwater sound. The breath in my ears ripples into whispers in my head, all speaking at once, drowning out the sound in a rolling breaker through my brain. There are tiny little spots on the inside of my eyes, fogging up my sight, and no matter how I blink I can’t clear them away. There’s static in my head and my breath drags like a net. I’m drowning in breath. I’m losing you again. I hear the creak of the rope and the bang of the door and feel the air move against my skin.

Time stops. I hang in the dark between then and now. It’s soft here. I can smell you. The you before. The you that smelled of citrus body cream and shampoo. I can feel your fingers on my hand. We’re all we’ve got.

There’s a weight in my lap and a wetness on my palm. My fingers curl around something soft and warm. Someone else is breathing, slow and wet. Then a sigh. Splinter. I open my eyes and watch him lick my fingers.

Lettie’s talking to me, quietly. She’s leaning across from her chair, peering into my face. “Just breathe, Rae. Nice and slow. There’s no rush. Nowhere to be. Nice, slow breaths. We’ll just sit here, okay? We’ll just sit here quietly.”

I look at Splinter’s head in my lap. My fingers are tangled in the fur at his neck. After a few minutes Lettie leans back. I hear her opening a jar; that spoon tinkle.

“Here. Extra honey.” She hands me a cup of tea that smells like grass. “Chamomile. Drink it.”

I do. It tastes like grass. With honey.

“What happened there, Rae?”

I shrug.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Have you had anything to eat today?”

“Course I have. I’m fine.”

Lettie makes a sound in her throat that tells me she’s not happy about my response. “Want to know what I think just happened?”

I watch my fingers curling and uncurling in Splinter’s fur. “Do I have a choice?”

“Not really.” Her voice is gentle. “I think, Rae, that maybe you are not coping as well as you’d like everyone to think.”

“I’m fine, Lettie. I’m just . . . tired.” And I am. Stone body-tired. If she’d just be quiet I’d sleep in the chair.

“Maybe I should call your mum, just let her know it might be a good idea to come home a bit earlier. What do you think? Would that help?”