As her hand reached out, weighed down by small, moist-looking brown paper sacks, Chaplin thought that other people were feeling things right now, even in the mildest situations. He saw people flirting, and he knew what that felt like, and no doubt someone in the office was on the phone to New York, arguing about money, and he knew what that felt like. He stood as rigid as a tree; not even the strongest breeze would shake his branches.

Hannah reached for Mildred’s palm, and turned it upward. “Close your eyes, lovely.” Mildred did so.

“Mum, Mildred doesn’t need anything. Mildred, you don’t need to …”

Hannah waved her hand over Mildred’s like a conjurer, and then forced something into her palm and folded it over. Mildred’s mouth turned up. Eyes closed, she stroked one finger against it. “It’s metal.”

“Open, Mildred Harris So and Such.”

It was a piece of metal. Unpolished silver, fitting neatly in her palm. Smooth on its concave size, engraved with peacocks on the convex. “This is the back of a watch,” Mildred said.

“There’s more,” Hannah said. “Close your eyes again.”

“She doesn’t need to close her eyes, really.”

Mildred rolled her eyes in mock exhaustion. “It’s fun, Charlie. Okay, Lily.” She closed her eyes and put out her hand. “I’ll bet it’s the rest of the watch,” she said.

It was not. Mildred opened her eyes, feeling a waxy black rectangle in her palm. “Oh,” she said, “it’s cheese.”

Hannah was beaming.

“It’s been opened,” Mildred said, noticing its end had been re-bound with electrician’s tape.

“It’s very good,” Hannah said. “Now, one more gift for you. Close those pretty eyes.”

Mildred did so, puzzled by the cheese, but curious.

“Do you believe in Jesus Christ?” Hannah asked.

“Mum, you shouldn’t ask people—”

“I do,” Mildred said, eyes still closed.

“Good.”

“I have a new church,” Mildred continued. “You could come if you—” And then she screamed.

“What is it? What?” Chaplin reached for her—she was swatting at something. All four of her limbs twitched as she danced in place. People were staring, but no one came forward; actresses often screamed.

“Oh, really, now,” Hannah said, her eyes amazed. “He was my friend on the boat,” she said.

“Where is it? Where is it?” Mildred was shaking her hands as if flinging water from them; the silver watch backing had flown from her grip and bounced across the courtyard.

“Where is what?” Chaplin cried. “Who was your friend?”

“He’s the same color as your sable. Or is that mink?” Hannah reached out to Mildred’s shoulder and gently plucked off a mouse. “He’s gray, you see. Not going to bite you, dear.”

Mildred’s hands went to her stomach. Her face was pale, her mouth open slightly; her lips were bowed, eyes watering. She caught her breath. “Your mouse—”