“—awake, Violet? Try to open your eyes . . .”

My eyes were open! I wanted to curse the staring woman who would not let me alone.

Still Ms. Herne tugged at me, and more forcibly I pushed her hands away.

Except my hands did not seem to move. They were numb, some distance from my body. I seemed to know that they could be operated by a sort of remote control but I had not (yet) mastered this control.

Ms. Herne had vanished, to confer with the woman whose name I had forgotten, who was meant to be a relative of mine reporting to my parents each day of my exile.

Where were they? Around a corner? If I’d been a younger and more childish girl I would have jumped up and poked my head into the hallway to surprise them.

Naive of them to imagine that I could not hear them when they spoke distinctly.

“. . . suddenly fell asleep, it seemed . . . I had to catch her from falling onto the floor.”

“. . . oh, Violet does that . . . sometimes. It doesn’t mean a, a thing . . .”

“. . . sleep-deprived? There are shadows beneath . . .”

“. . . oh no, oh no . . . Her eyelids are just sort of—swollen, and itchy. It doesn’t mean a thing.”

“. . . examined by a doctor?”

“. . . oh yes, yes of course. My husband and I—we have . . .”

“. . . so sudden, I had to catch her from falling onto the floor.”

Then, Ms. Herne had returned and was seated before me smiling insincerely. My eyes were fully opened and nothing seemed to have changed and nothing was out of place.

In the hallway, (possibly) my aunt was eavesdropping. I could not be certain and could not betray my suspicion by jumping up and looking, for then both women would know that I was aware of their collusion.

“You are absolutely certain, Violet, that you feel ‘safe’ in this household? That you are safe? And that neither of your brothers have contacted you to—to—threaten you . . .”

Oh, why did this not end!

Nodding yes. Or was it no.

Ms. Herne concluded her visit with the usual questions about school which were, as we all know, trick questions. Gravely taking notes when I assured her that I was “adjusting”—“doing well, mostly.”

“You are, you think, ‘adjusting’? And ‘doing well’—‘mostly’?”

Yes.

“Well. Goodbye, Violet! I will see you again in—is it September? But please call me at any time if you—if you have reason to call me. Do you promise?”

No. I do not promise.

“Yes, Ms. Harm.”

“‘Herne’—my name is ‘Herne.’”

“‘Ms. Herme.’”

“‘Herne.’”

Smiling at Turnip Face so that she would have no further reason to be suspicious of me. In the other room, if my aunt was listening she too would be deceived.

Another time the woman said, “Goodbye, Violet!”

“Goodbye.”