“It’s a beautiful image. Are you from the island, Constance?” Ruby thought the picture was kind of bleak. She hadn’t decided if she liked it or not.

There was a long pause before Constance said, “Yes and no.”

Confused, Ruby looked at Gregor.

“It’s a story,” he said, with a small dismissive gesture, “but she tells it as if it’s true.”

“It is true,” said Constance, offended. “All of my stories are true.”

She sat back on the couch, suddenly bristling with anxiety, twisting the end of her plait faster and faster. At the edge of the room, Leonie stopped what she was doing, one hand frozen in the act of turning the page of a fabric book. She looked at her mother, but she didn’t move or make a sound. In that moment the child reminded Ruby of a startled bird, hoping that if it stays completely still, it won’t be noticed.

Gregor’s face was suddenly full of regret. “I’m sorry, Constance. You go on. Of course, it’s true. I was just being insensitive.” He gave Ruby a look, then, apologetic perhaps.

“All stories are true in a sense,” said Ruby. Leonie relaxed as the tension in the room eased. She went on with her page-turning. Ruby turned to Constance. “Tell me. I’d love to hear about where you’re from.”

Constance looked away. “I don’t want to now. Not with him here. He doesn’t believe any of it, clearly.”

“Maybe I should leave,” said Gregor.

“No,” said Ruby. “You don’t have to.”

But Constance glared at him, triumphant. “Maybe you should.”

Gregor picked up his cup of coffee, got up, and headed for one of the bedrooms. “I’m sorry, Connie. I didn’t mean to upset you. Really.”

“But you don’t really have to go, do you?” asked Ruby. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be alone with Constance. Something about the woman’s mood was making her uneasy.

Gregor glanced at the wall clock. “Actually, I do have to make a call for work. It shouldn’t take long. Sorry. I’ll be a few minutes. Then I’ll be back.”

After he’d gone, Ruby wondered about the office in the city and why he wasn’t there now. Maybe he worked from home sometimes. What did he even do for a living? The opportunity hadn’t arisen yet to ask him. She felt suddenly unsafe, and stupid, not knowing why she’d come up here, to Gregor’s flat, to these people about whom she knew so little, and this strange, glassy-eyed woman.

Leonie, having come to life, bum-shuffled toward her and handed her the book.

“Raf,” she said, pointing to the giraffe on the front page.

“Amazing! You’re so clever!” Ruby clapped her hands in applause, and Leonie laughed.