She looks past him, with her huge eyes, at Lauren. She is beautiful, if gravely ill. Her jaw is slack and her skin clings tightly to her skull. An icy draught blows in from the back garden. The woman takes a seat at the candlelit table and Lauren looks over at her dad, who is sliding the door shut. As she opens her mouth to speak, Jameson starts a howl that turns into a chain of barks as he runs into the room, then out and up the stairs.

Niall walks slowly to the kitchen. The woman follows him and Lauren stays seated, too scared to look over, hears them murmuring. He brings out a large white plate, a glinting knife and fork. The woman takes a seat again and he puts the plate down in front of her, at the head of the table. Lauren gets up from her chair, the blood rushing in her ears. The room has grown darker.

The young woman reaches out for her hand, but Lauren backs towards the door. ‘Dad? What’s going on?’

Niall strokes the woman’s hair. The temperature has dropped, despite the burning fire. ‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’ He is talking to the woman, not Lauren, and then kisses her hard on the dry mouth, his hand in her scraggly hair. Lauren feels as though she is sinking into the carpet, but then she realizes it is the tables and chairs that are rising, floating off the ground.

Lauren runs out of the room to the top of the stairs and sits there panting, remembering everything Vairi told her. When she finally opens the bedroom door the woman is sitting on her neatly made bed.

She turns her head to one side and smiles at Lauren. She is missing several teeth. She looks kind.

At once, the room feels warmer and Lauren doesn’t feel so afraid. The woman pats the duvet beside her and Lauren sits. The edges of the room feel fuzzy. She feels the warmth of tears against her eyelids as she pushes her face into the woman’s dressing gown. When she is up so close, she can see there is a translucent quality. Light shines through.

The woman strokes Lauren’s hair and Lauren curls into her body. She doesn’t smell unpleasant, but familiar, of how she imagines the moon might smell, or a flower that only bloomed in winter. The woman shows her a silver ring on her finger, two hands holding a crowned heart, and then holds it out in her palm. They hear distant explosions.