Amelia sat on the couch in her Uncle Jaunty’s office, holding an ice pack to her neck. Daisy brought her a cold bottle of water. “Here, drink this.”

Uncle Jaunty was kneeling in front of her, holding her hand. “How is the pain now, sweetie?”

“Better,” Amelia said.

The burning in her neck wasn’t exactly simply pain, but she couldn’t quite explain the ache inside that accompanied it. The impulse, the need inside to fulfil something she couldn’t understand.

“Is it a burn? How did it happen, Amelia?” Jaunty asked.

“It looked to me more like a bite,” Daisy chimed in.

Jaunty pulled the ice pack away from Amelia’s neck, and gave her a serious look. “Daisy, could you leave us, please?”

Amelia gave Daisy a nod. The last thing she wanted to do was explain this.

As soon as Daisy left, Jaunty started with his interrogation. “When did you get this?”

What could she say? She couldn’t tell her uncle the truth. He wouldn’t understand this wasn’t something bad. So far she’d managed to cover and conceal it from Jaunty and Simon.

“I can’t remember—”

“Did this happen in Monte Carlo? Did Byron do this to you?”

“Uncle Jaunty, it’s just a little—”

Jaunty cupped her cheek and looked her right in the eye. “Did Byron ever hurt you?”

Why was her uncle connecting an injury on her neck with her ex who she had broken up with six months ago?

“No, she never hurt me. Not physically anyway. She’s your friend—you know she wouldn’t do that.”

Jaunty stood up abruptly, and started to pace. “I thought she was. She gave me her word she would never let her—” Jaunty hesitated. “You never told me why and how you broke up.”

Amelia threw the ice pack onto the couch beside her angrily. She didn’t like talking about this and she didn’t like lying and making excuses for her neck as if she was an abuse victim. “Because I didn’t and still don’t want to talk about it, Uncle Jaunty. Don’t you think I’ve been made to feel enough of a fool by Byron without recounting it to everyone?”

She got up and walked to the window. The rain had stopped and the midafternoon sun was shining down on the wet pavements. She was sick of feeling like this. Stupid, hurt, broken-hearted. Maybe Daisy was right. It was time to move on.

Amelia felt Jaunty’s hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I know she broke your heart.”

“Broke it, smashed it, pulverized it—well, not any more.” She turned around quickly and looked at the clock on the wall. It read half past three. “I’m going home early, Uncle Jaunty. I’ve no other appointments today.”

“Of course. Go home and get some rest,” Jaunty said.