No, thinks Lily, you agreed. There’s always someone making decisions for her. Edna, or her mother. When does she get to decide something for herself? “I thought it might be nice, that’s all. A bit of sea air will be good for both of us.”

“I don’t think so, Lillian, do you? I don’t think that would be very sensible, given the circumstances.”

“Oh, bugger sensible!” What circumstances?

Lily hasn’t seen that look on Edna’s face very often. Nothing much takes her by surprise. The last time she saw it was probably when it was directed at Oscar after a particularly cheeky bit of naughtiness, and even then it would only have been mock horror; this face is genuinely shocked. But the look fades, replaced with the more usual steely determination.

“Is there something you want to tell me, Lillian?”

Lily looks down at the floor. “No . . . I mean . . . I don’t know what you mean.”

Edna turns back to the screen. “I thought there might be.” She adjusts herself in the chair, wriggling her toes in her moccasins. It’s an odd movement given the conversation they are having, almost playful in intent, her feet flopping back and forth like windscreen wipers. In moccasins! That she last saw propped up on the Cavalier footstool.

Edna must see the realization in Lily’s eyes, because she suddenly lets loose with a devastating smile. She reaches into her cardigan and pulls out the crumpled letter. “How long has this been going on?”

Lily can’t speak.

“Well?” A pause for effect, then, “Lillian Josephine Bainbridge, I asked you a question! Clearly this isn’t the first, so how many have there been?”

Lily rises and fetches the first letter from its hiding place in the grandmother clock. She passes it to Edna, who reads it slowly, frowning. It takes her an inordinately long time for a message consisting of just five words. But then, Lily supposes she herself must have studied those words in much the same way when she first read them, as though the answers to their author, not to mention their meaning, might be visible on the page somewhere.

I know what you did.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Edna asks.

Lily shrugs.

“Of all the stupid—”

“Edna, please don’t call me stupid. I’m not stupid.”

Edna stares at her. “No,” she says. “No, you are not. I’m sorry. But that is exactly why I would have expected you to tell me about this. This . . .” She waves the crumpled letters in her fist. “This isn’t something we can ignore.”

“I’m not ignoring it.”

“Oh, Lillian, what have you done?”

“What?”

“Please don’t tell me you’ve done something stu—” She changes what she was going to say. “Something inadvisable.”

Lily sighs. She’s standing in front of Edna with her hands behind her back. She begins to tell her everything, just as though she’s reporting to the headmistress. How easily she gives up control. Edna listens silently, nods occasionally. Finally, Lily mentions her meeting with Joe Wentworth.