At the entrance to the tube, Hannah finds she is breathless, as though she has been running. She pulls the paper from her pocket, sees an ordinary-looking flyer—something mocked up on a PC at home. It advertises the healing powers of Lindsay McCormack. There is a photo of Lindsay’s sallow face in troubling close-up, and an address, somewhere in the outer reaches of West London. She pushes it to the bottom of her bag. Later though, she pulls it out again and gazes upon it in the light of the lamp in the small room—blurred pictures of female forms and trees, text in colored lettering that is difficult to read. A testimonial from a man who was in chronic pain who feels much better now. All of it badly done, nothing in the least bit compelling about any of it.

And yet.

She picks up her phone, calls the landline number. It is answered quickly. “Hello?”

“Oh—hello. I saw you. Today. In Covent Garden. You gave me a flyer.”

“Yes?” The woman sounds harassed, and there is the noise of a crying child in the background. “Yes, I remember.”

“I wondered if you had any space.”

“Space?”

“To see me, I mean.”

“Ah,” the woman says. “How about tomorrow morning?”

SHE TELLS WORK she has a dentist appointment—an emergency filling—and then, just after rush hour, takes the tube out west to the end of the line.

The address is deep in a warren of houses, an ungainly semi-detached with a muddy patch of front garden. A trike rusts on the step, its trailing purple decorations soaked with rain. Hannah rings the doorbell and peers through the frosted glass. At first there is no sound, no movement, and she thinks she may have the wrong house—then the woman comes to the door. She is bundled in a cardigan the color of porridge, her hair pulled back into a scruffy bun.

“Come in.” She leads Hannah through a dark hallway to a small back room with a table and two blankets. “Hop up.” The woman pats the table.

The room is chilly, uninviting. “Would you mind,” says Hannah, standing in the doorway, “if I used the bathroom?”

A flicker of irritation crosses the woman’s face. “It’s just out the door on the right.”