Is she searching for something? Yes. For an exit? Where to? From her solitude into the solitude she imagines life to hold, or does she want to leave this world and be reunited with her family in the place we all hope exists but cannot be sure?

I gather up some large oak leaves that lie scattered on the ground. I’ll take them with me for Maddie and then maybe the tree can tempt her back.

We go to the Eagle and Child, a pub in a white building on St. Giles’ Street with cavernlike booths and a surprisingly small bar. Myfanwy Cook is already there and orders tea for three. I tell her about Maddie, her accident, the coma, and the idea that people find it easier to come back if they’re surrounded by their favorite things.

The librarian takes a long sip of tea and then waves to the barman. “A gin please, Oliver,” she says. “No, make it a double.” She wrings her hands before commencing her story. “Madelyn was a little girl when she started coming to the library. She loved stories, especially books such as The Hunger Games and Pippi Longstocking about girls who escape from sticky situations, not stories about princesses and stuff like that.”

Mrs. Cook tells us that Maddie prefers cats to dogs and blue to green. She also says that her parents love her very much—“loved,” she corrects herself, then she weeps, but in such a way that the tears flow inward, while on the outside she dabs at her eyes and drains her double gin in one long swig.

Mrs. Cook also mentions that Maddie loves tarte tatin. “She read about it once in a French cookbook. It’s made with cinnamon and caramel from Brittany sea-salted butter and baked facedown.” She really does say “sea-salted” and “baked facedown,” and it’s at that moment that I decide I never want to be without Maddie again in my whole life.

“Can I come and see her in London?” Mrs. Cook asks.

I nod and glance at Eddie, for none of this would have been possible without her. “Yes,” I say. “Please come as soon as possible. Maddie’s so lonely.”

“No, my dear, she has you!” she says.

I don’t know which way to look in my happiness and vulnerability. However, I do still have one last question. “Can you tell me if there was anything in particular that Maddie really loved or would really like?”

She considers this for a second and then says, “A pajama party.”

DAY THIRTY-FIVE

Henri

I was once at the beginning of my life. I was once immortal, but now I’m dead, or as good as. That’s right. It’s the truth. I’m as good as dead.

I’m lying on my back under a streetlamp, and my heart is bleeding out underneath me in great spurts of blood.