When she was done, she took a few more pictures of the room itself; she wasn’t sure why, other than she had the vague feeling that was what people did these days, and maybe Chris would want to put them online. She got a decent shot of the bed and the wooden panelling and was just considering the tiles around the fireplace when the room seemed to lurch and her vision blurred. Still clutching the phone, she sat heavily on the bed, the frame rattling against the oak panels. She swallowed, licked her lips; it was there again, that odd metallic taste in her mouth.

Could it be a symptom? If she were pregnant then there were all sorts of changes going on in her body; she tried to remember what she’d read online, stuff about cravings, what she should and shouldn’t eat, sudden aversions to particular tastes and smells. She couldn’t remember feeling this way before, off-balance, the nausea, her mouth dry all the time. Oddly, this made her feel ever so slightly optimistic, even though a small part of her still insisted that surely this was far too early for her to feel any real difference in herself. She took a deep breath and let it out gently, then she became aware that someone – Maude, she supposed, was making their way up the stairs, presumably to tell her lunch was ready.

She stood, not wanting to be found looking and feeling out of sorts, and called, ‘It’s OK, I’m coming.’ Then she took a couple more steadying breaths before she went back down to the kitchen.

*

Now that the fish was on her plate, Maude was even less keen. ‘It smells,’ she said.

‘It smells delicious,’ said Chris.

‘Ha.’ She picked up her knife and fork, prodded at the pinkish grey flesh. ‘There are loads of bones,’ she said. ‘We should have gone to the chip shop instead.’

‘You can’t live on chips,’ said Nell.

Maude picked at her food. ‘You can die from that, you know, fish bones. You can choke to death.’

‘And you know this how?’ asked Chris.

‘Everyone knows,’ said Maude.

Suddenly, inexplicably, Nell was ravenous. She began to cut her food, then, dropping her knife, she used her fingers to pull the fine bones from the clump of fish on her fork, before popping it into her mouth, it tasted glorious, oily, sweet and smoky.

Maude was watching her suspiciously.

‘It’s fine,’ said Nell, ‘try some.’

‘Hmm.’ Maude picked at her food, spearing a few flakes of fish, staring at them resentfully before taking a bite.

‘OK?’

Maude swallowed. ‘I can feel them,’ she said, ‘the bones.’

‘They won’t do you any harm,’ said Chris.

Maude picked up another forkful, larger this time, and took another bite.

‘See?’ said Nell. ‘Fine.’

‘It’s all right, but I don’t see why—’ She stopped, trying and failing to clear her throat.