“Holding up okay?” Ray asked, and a lump formed in Margot’s throat. It was a question she should have been asking him. He was pale, his normally neatly combed hair slick with sweat, his feet unsteady as he leaned on his wife.

“I’m fine,” she managed, and she thought that if she repeated the phrase enough she might even begin to believe it. “Are you…”

“The doctor patched me up.” He patted his stomach beneath his shirt. A faltering, cautious movement. “Got some painkillers. Going to take a few days off, close the shop while I get some sleep, but then it’ll be back to business as usual.”

There was an unspoken addition to that final sentence. We don’t have much of a choice.

“Thank you for last night.” The words had been lying heavy on her tongue all morning, but she didn’t feel any relief to speak them. “Thank you for helping. And I’m sorry about what happened.”

“Well, it’s no one’s fault, really.” Ray looked down at Nora, but the smile she returned was strained. “We’re all in the same boat together, aren’t we?”

Nora took a quick, short breath, then patted the arm hanging over her shoulder. “Come on. Andrew says we can have the empty cabin at the back of the row. It’s not far.”

“Sleep well,” Margot said as they left, but they didn’t respond.

She continued sitting as they vanished behind a block of buildings, then slowly, unsteadily rose to her feet. Dr. Maynard had given her a pain tablet when she’d first arrived, and it worked to reduce the worst of the aches, but the bruises across her body still felt stiff and cold. She hesitated outside the door for a second, then gently knocked.

“Come in,” Andrew called, and she entered.

The shutters had been opened to let the light in, but the space was still dim. Andrew stood, his back to the wall, arms folded over his chest, dark shadows falling heavily around his eyes.

Marsh lay under the table Margot had woken on the day before. One sleepy eye opened to watch her, then he huffed softly as he dropped back into his nap. Andrew had brought him bowls of food and water earlier, while Ray was being stitched.

Margot shut the door behind herself and took a step in, turning to face the bench near the door. She’d had a script before. She’d worked out exactly the words she wanted to say. They had been good, sincere. They entirely failed her.

Kant sat on the bench. “Margot,” he said, giving her a brief nod.

A sharp white patch had been taped across his right eye. It had been removed, she knew, from what she’d heard while sitting outside the door.