I feel more myself now than I have in a long time, she’d written two days ago. I’m super unimportant here, obviously, but I like that. They’re just happy if I show up on time and work hard, and that’s something I can do. My favorite part of med school was always the science, not the actual doctoring, anyway. Also, one of the researchers is hot. (That is NOT my priority…but it’s a perk.)

To Cilla, I simply said, “She likes having a real job again.”

Cilla frowned and leaned against the sink. “Speaking of jobs…I need to talk to you.” She swallowed. “The decoy scheme worked so well that the Palace offered me a few other opportunities in the, er, official planning arena. Mainly for the Queen and Richard.”

I clapped my hands. “Cilla! That’s fantastic.”

“It’s a job I’ve really earned, you know? I’d nannied for my sister, and then I worked for you…”

“Also nannying,” I cracked.

She didn’t protest, which was fair. “The point is, those were things I did because they were handed to me, not because I was good at them.”

“You were great for me,” I protested. “But I understand what you mean.”

She scraped at a dried splash of pink paint on the sink’s white enamel, and looked up at me. “I lied to you earlier,” she said. “I have been angry at you for disappearing. We’d all been in it together, and then we were frozen out. It made me feel like you were punishing me for not noticing something was amiss, and I thought it was unfair.”

“I never thought that,” I told her. “It wasn’t your job to root out the secrets I was keeping. Honestly, it didn’t occur to me that you would take us leaving personally.”

“How could we not?” Cilla said. “You stopped speaking to us.”

“We couldn’t see past the shit we were in,” I told her. “It’s selfish, but it’s the truth. That’s all there was to it.”

“That’s all very well and good now, but it took me a lot of time to realize that, and I had to do it on my own,” Cilla said. “I’m not trying to make you feel worse. I’m being honest. It’s what friends are supposed to do.”

This was a jab, but I saw in her face it was not a malicious one. “It is, and I am really sorry, Cilla,” I said. “What can I do?”

Cilla fiddled with the tap. “You can accept my resignation,” she said. “I took the job. Started last week. But, you know. Technicalities.”

“Done,” I said. “And I am so sorry that I hurt you. I convinced myself that you guys needed plausible deniability, but I think that turned into…plausible dumbability.” I punctuated this with the classic rim-shot noise that my dad used to love.

Cilla bit her lip, then burst out laughing. “You’re barmy,” she said. “But I am glad you’re back.” She moved as if to hug me, then pulled back. “Don’t run off like that again, though.”