Esther cast a cautious glance in Susan’s direction. “Well, you do really like yoga . . .”

“. . . and if these people make you feel at home . . .” Susan shrugged.

“What harm can one club do?” Esther finished, and she gave Daisy an affectionate squeeze.

7
THE PATH TO ENLIGHTENMENT

At home, there had always been someone to make stuff happen. Clothes would get washed, meals cooked, bills paid. Esther would write what brand of shampoo she wanted on the shopping list, and it would turn up in the bathroom. She never had to know how much it cost, the same way she never had to pay for the hairdresser or the dentist. There was no admin required for being someone’s daughter.

But there was an overwhelming amount of it for being a student.

“Susan. Help me. I’m DYING.” Esther staggered in through the door and collapsed face-first on the bed.

“You should see a doctor about that. A qualified one.” Susan’s voice had the distinct air of someone who hadn’t bothered to look up.

“That’s exactly what’s killing me.” Turning her head to one side, Esther smiled at Daisy, who was sitting on the floor, back resting against the bed.

“This is a very confusing conversation, Es. Is there any chance you could dial down the dramatics and actually make sense?” Susan remained intent on her laptop. From the look of it, she was browsing poisons on Wikipedia.

“The admin!” Esther rolled onto her back, specifically so she could fling an arm across her forehead and stare miserably at the ceiling. “There’s so much of it.”

“Ah.” For the first time, she had Susan’s attention. “I’m guessing someone has failed to register for a doctor and needs”—Susan turned from the laptop, eyes narrowed in calculation—“something that isn’t life threatening enough to qualify as a medical emergency but is sufficiently urgent that you need the matter resolved sooner rather than later.”

A pause followed, long enough for Daisy and Esther to hold their breath in anticipation.

“Someone forgot to renew her prescription for the pill,” Susan pronounced.

Esther shot up in surprise. “Am I really that predictable?”

“Well, Susan’s very perceptive . . .” Daisy began.

“Yes. You absolutely are.” Susan said.

“Right. Well, have you got any I can borrow?”

Susan shook her head and tapped her arm. “Implant. Even though I like to think my womb naturally provides a toxic environment so that anything resembling sperm would shrivel and die on entry.”

Esther leaned over the edge of the bed hopefully. “Daisy?”

“Providing a hostile environment for sperm hasn’t been much of a priority for me.” She blushed. “Sorry.”

A moment later, Susan had the web page for the university health service up on her laptop, open to the registration form. “Here.”

Esther pecked with distaste at the graying keys. “It says it’ll take two days. That’s forty-eight hours I don’t have.”