Glancing at her mother, Claudia said, “The first time they took it from under her arm, but the second time it came from her other eyelid. Isn’t that amazing, because looking at her other eye—what they call the donor area—you’d never know, it’s healed so quickly.”

It was still noticeable, Marcy was aware of that, but when compared to the rest of her face it was a smudge in a devastated drawing.

The conversation inevitably turned to other cases of plastic surgery that had been performed on friends or relatives, or read about online. Though Marcy listened, and allowed Henry to hold her hand again, she wasn’t really there. She didn’t seem to be anywhere, she realized as she gazed out at the jungly back garden, where two lovely palms were being choked by the unchecked spread of the trees around them. Was she really feeling like one of them now, as if she was being overpowered by her family and friends?

She wasn’t sure how long everyone stayed, maybe half an hour, perhaps longer; she only properly registered them again when they started to leave. She felt rude and bemused and so bone-achingly tired that it was hard to make herself stand up.

She’d been warned about how exhausting this first day would be. She’d been warned about a lot of things, such as how she wouldn’t be able to dress and undress herself (Claudia was already aware of that). She’d also need help in the shower and with rubbing E45 (from the fridge) into her burns. There was no special diet, other than abstaining from alcohol, but there was an ongoing concern about her post-trauma symptoms, so she must call Angus if she felt herself falling into a black hole.

She was heading there now, and she wouldn’t have minded sinking into the darkness and never coming back up again, but Henry was holding on to her hand as though to stop her from slipping away. She wanted to tell him not to let go, but it would make him feel responsible for her, maybe even nervous, and though he’d do it gently, she was sure, he’d probably prefer to start the process of pulling away.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Three days had passed since everyone had gathered to welcome Marcy home, but this was the first time Andee and Dan had been able to get together. They were sitting in the small courtyard garden behind Andee and Graeme’s house enjoying a glass of wine, while Graeme fixed a salad and listened to their conversation through the open doors.

“I think she’s convinced herself that she looks worse than she does,” Andee was saying, “the way she kept her head down as if it might upset us to see her . . . It was heartbreaking, and she hardly said a word while we were there.”