Ruby went to him. She sat down next to him, not quite touching. His breathing was ragged. “What is it, Gregor? What happened to you?” She reached for his hand, but he drew it away.

“I know how these things end. Once someone is in the grip of mental illness, if you let them out of your sight, abandon them to strangers, to medics. They try to … leave.”

She barely dared ask, “Did you lose someone?”

“I … just can’t. Not yet. One day I’ll tell you, I promise.”

He must have had some terrible experiences to have become so cautious and mistrustful. That he would confide in her, this man who hardly let anyone in.

“I worry that I wouldn’t be enough for Leonie. If we ended up alone.”

Ruby reached again for his hand. “You’re not alone.”

He looked at her then, searched her face for meaning. “But, Ruby, you barely know me.”

She thought of Leonie, that joyous child, that gleaming ball of potential. She thought of Constance, her strange, ethereal mother, who already seemed so faded and distant, as if she had one foot in another world. The two of them with many complex needs; such a heavy burden for one person to carry. She held his gaze. “I know enough.”

He shook his head, perhaps in disbelief, but when he looked at her, she saw deep gratitude in his eyes.

“Can I ask you a question now?” said Ruby.

“Go on.”

“What’s Roane?”

His brow furrowed. “What did she tell you?”

“Nothing, just the name. She phrased it strangely, that’s all. Made me wonder.”

“It’s her family name. Her clan, if you like. But, Ruby, it’s more to her than that. Roane is an old word meaning ‘seal,’ or ‘selkie.’”

“Selkie? Isn’t that like a mermaid?”

“Kind of. They’re shape-shifters: seals in the water, humans on land. But because of it, she believes that she comes from the sea, that she’s part of that myth.”

So, the significance of the name had gotten distorted in her mind somehow. Poor Constance. A disordered thought, looming larger than it should have done in her confusion about what was real and what wasn’t.

Gregor said, “So you won’t say anything about them living there with me?”

“I can tell you one thing: your downstairs neighbor doesn’t know about them.”

“You haven’t told her?”

“No. She thinks she knows all about you, of course, from when your mother died. But Constance and Leonie didn’t come up in conversation, really. I’m not sure she even knows that I’ve been coming over after I see her. To be honest, she spends most of the time talking rather than listening.”