Susan’s attention drifted to the jar of teeth. “Probably best you don’t ask me about those, then.”

Since that had been her next question, Daisy cast around the room for another prompt. She’d never been good under pressure.

“Tick-tock, Wooton.” Susan waggled her phone.

In desperation, Daisy just started pointing at things, Susan firing back the source. The reading lamp had been purloined from the British Library; a fraudulent mystic had been using that blanket as a tablecloth . . . everything had an origin story worthy of a two-hour superhero film.

“The fairy lights!” Daisy wasn’t sure what possessed her to point at those.

“Elmswood Garden Center,” Susan replied. A surprisingly mundane answer for someone so interesting, only then she added, “They were strung across the entrance to Santa’s grotto. I had a man on the inside help me extract them.”

There was something about the guilty flicker of her gaze that looked familiar. It was the same shifty look she got whenever McGraw’s name came up. The golden five minutes were nearly up, but Daisy had to ask.

“Was that inside man McGraw?”

Susan nodded.

“So . . . you were friends?”

There was a moment in which Susan appeared to wrestle with herself, ingrained secrecy battling with honoring a promise to answer Daisy’s questions.

“We were best friends. Secondary school. McGraw was . . . well, we were a team. A good one.”

“What happened?”

“I made a mistake.”

Daisy waited.

“I . . . I thought maybe we could be something more. And he didn’t.”

“Oh, Susan . . .”

“Yeah, well . . .” Susan picked at a loose thread on the hem of her T-shirt. “It didn’t have to be the end, but it was.”

“I’m sorry.” When Daisy reached out a comforting hand, Susan didn’t flinch but, rather, let Daisy’s hand settle on hers and give a gentle squeeze.

“These things happen to the best of us. You know that.” The smile Susan gave her was small and rueful and yet managed to speak volumes. “How’s Information and Information Studies been this week?”

It was a subtle nod to Daisy’s first—disastrous—attempt at addressing her feelings for the girl she’d been crushing on since the start of term. One wild night out as friends hadn’t turned into anything more, despite Daisy’s having plucked up the courage to ask. Fortune did not always favor the bold.

“I’ve not been,” Daisy said, ducking her head. She hadn’t intended on telling her friends this, but when she managed to drag her gaze up to meet Susan’s, all she saw was sympathy.

“You do what you need to survive, Daisy. That’s all any of us can do.” The alarm on Susan’s phone sounded, and she sat up, patting Daisy’s hand dismissively. “Now leave me alone—there’s a dear.”