“Terry? What the fuck are you doing here?”

Iris’s propensity to curse was the only thing my mother did not like about her.

My mouth is dry and the relief has deserted me and my body is pounding with...I don’t know...adrenaline maybe. Or fear. I feel cold all of a sudden. Clammy. I step closer. Open my mouth. What I say next is important. It might be the most important thing I’ve ever said, except I can’t think of anything. Not a single thing. Not one word. Instead, I rummage in my handbag, pull out her letter, do my best to smooth it so she’ll recognize it. So she’ll know. I hold it up.

When Iris sees the page, she sort of freezes so that, when the queue shuffles forward, she does not move, and the person behind—engrossed in his phone—walks into the back of her.

“Oh, sorry,” he says. Iris doesn’t glare at him. She doesn’t even look at him, as if she hasn’t noticed his intrusion into her personal space, another of her pet hates. Instead, she nudges her luggage—an overnight bag—along the floor with a crutch, then follows it.

I stand there, holding the creased page. People stare.

I lower my hand, walk towards her. “What are you doing?” I hiss at her.

She won’t look at me. “You know what I’m doing. You read my note.” She concentrates on the back of the man’s head in front of her. The collar of his suit jacket is destroyed with dandruff.

I fold my arms tightly across my chest, making fists of my hands to stop the shake of them. I should have thought more about what I was going to say. I don’t know what I thought about in the car. I don’t think I thought of anything. Except getting here.

And now I’m here, and I can’t think of what to say. Or do.

“Iris,” I finally manage. “Say something.”

“I’ve explained everything in my letter.” She looks straight ahead, as though she’s talking to someone in front of her. Not to me. People in the queue crane their necks to get their fill of us.

“I’ve read it,” I say, “and I’m none the wiser.”

“I’m sorry, Terry.” She lowers her head, her voice smaller now. A crack in her armor that I might be able to prize open.

I put my hand on her arm. “It’s okay, Iris. It’s going to be okay. We’ll just get into my car. I’m parked right outside. Dad’s in the car by himself so we need to...”

“Your dad? Why is he here?”

“There’re rats. In Sunnyside. Well...vermin, which I took to mean...but look, I’ll tell you about it in the car, okay?”

“How did you know I’d be here?” Iris says.

“I saw the booking form. On your computer.”

“You hacked into my laptop?”

“Of course not! You left your computer on, which, by the way, is a fire hazard. Not to mention the security risk of not having a password.”