“You’re in shock.” He smooths my hair back. His hands are trembling. “Have you eaten anything?”

“Not yet. The kids are probably getting hungry too. Let me just, um, go check what the plan is for lunch.”

“Nina?”

No, I flee, down the stairs, back into routine. Lunchtime will mean we’re halfway through the day. And then will come afternoon tea and cookies, a meal for the children, bath time, lullabies, dinner for the grown-ups, drinks, conversation, sleep, done, and then tomorrow will be partly cloudy again with a midafternoon rain shower that will keep us from putting the clothes out on the line. The other children will come back from Sunnan. School will start again soon.

“Careful,” Hugh calls tightly, watching me go down the stairs.

I’m walking too quickly, he thinks, and maybe he’s right, if only on the Day. There’s a razor edge to his voice, his muscles tight as coat hangers, but he’s trying to hide it now. It’s a compromise, I know. If we all stay home, hide from this, he’ll help us pretend it’s not happening.

It doesn’t seem right to pretend when others don’t have that luxury. It doesn’t seem very effective either.

If it’s chosen us, it’ll find us. That’s what everybody says.

10:30 A.M.

I hear the comforting cadence of chitchat in the kitchen and follow it downward, my hand trailing behind me along the wainscoting. I pick out Jo before I open the door, that copper kettle voice of hers. She’s sitting at the kitchen table, along with Marit, who’s been bundled into a thick sweater, my coat hanging neatly folded over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. Why hadn’t I thought to bring her a sweater when we came in? Shock, maybe, like Hugh said, or maybe I’ve just always been a useless hostess.

Taker. Leech.

Shut up.

Jo has a canvas bag at her feet full of clothes. She glances at me with a soft smile. “I heard. Caught out in her pajamas.” She nods at the bag. “Good of you to bring her here.”

“We went to yours first.” There’s a note of accusation in my voice.

I’m a raw nerve today. Wonder why.

“I was checking on the old blokes down at the pub.”

“Oh.” I smile. “They’re drinking already?”

She shakes her head. “They gave it a jolly good go, but too many memories of last time. And Matty came and told us about John and the others.”