The kitchen was generous and ran along the back of the house, opening onto a larger back garden than Laura had expected. The walls were yellow; the counters were pine. A long table, not fancy, but rough like a farmhouse kitchen table, was set for dinner. Two other people were already sitting at it, munching bread and watching Laura and Polly with interest.

Maggie reached up into a cabinet for a glass. “Do you want some wine?”

“I have brandy in my room,” said one of the people at the table, a man with a long beard and twinkly eyes. “That might be better.” He was wearing an extremely well-cut three-piece suit, which was confusing with the beard, and Laura found herself struggling to decide which external clue was more useful.

“Wine is fine, thanks,” said Laura shyly, giving up on categorizing. She actually didn’t like drinking very much, but it seemed impolite to say no.

“Since when do you have brandy?” the young woman at the table asked the bearded guy. “We played Scrabble last week, you didn’t offer me any.”

“I was already struggling to keep up,” replied the man. “If I’d brought alcohol into the mix, it would have been all over.”

The young woman laughed and smiled at Laura. “I’m Anna, I don’t suppose you play Scrabble at all?” She was older than Laura, maybe thirty. Her skin was dark, her hair even darker. Although her expression was serious, her eyes had a definite twinkle, and Laura was sorry to disappoint her. About the Scrabble, that is.

“Not very well,” she replied. “Sorry.”

Maggie had been watching Laura’s face, and now she raised her eyebrows. “Is wine what you actually want, or perhaps a cup of tea would be better? I’m already boiling the kettle for myself.”

Another cup of tea was exactly what Laura wanted, and she nodded gratefully. Maggie bustled away, her shapeless charcoal linen dress wrinkled in the back, its pockets usually full of dog treats, judging by Herbert’s close attendance. She reminded Laura of an anthropology professor friend of her parents’, a frequent and welcome visitor. She’d always worn a highly pocketed fishing vest containing items ranging from pens to arrowheads to, one time, memorably, a light-up keychain of the Venus of Willendorf that played the eighties Bananarama classic “Venus.”

The bearded guy waved at Laura from the other end of the table. “I’m Jay Libby, everyone calls me Libby.”

“I’m not super good at names,” said Laura, which wasn’t actually true. She was extremely good at names, but the thought of adding anything more to her head right then was overwhelming. She felt herself starting to tremble slightly.

Maggie appeared with a cup of tea. “I went ahead and did regular British tea with milk and sugar, it’s really the best thing for shock.”