The next day was Friday, and Lulu found it even harder than most Fridays to go in to work. It was not, she thought, dejectedly polishing glasses, that she was not pleased and excited for Charlie’s good news, as she had been delighted and proud for Sophie’s; but sometimes she wondered, too, if it would ever be Lulu’s turn to come home with good news, to be exclaimed over and danced around in triumph, to wake up in the morning and feel a smile beginning as she woke, spreading warmth through her body from the top of her scalp to her toes, instead of a grimly cold sinking in her stomach as she thought of the day ahead.

“Watch out!” Michelle pushed past her, carrying a tray of empty glasses. Then, “Oh, for heaven’s sake!”

Startled, Lulu had jumped, dropping her own glass to the floor, where it shattered into pieces.

Michelle sighed heavily, leaned against the counter, and watched while Lulu went for the dustpan and brush to clear up the pieces.

“You’ve missed a piece,” she said, when Lulu thought she was done.

“Sorry.” Lulu bent to pick up the remaining shard. “Ow.” She had picked it up clumsily, and it had grazed her finger.

“Oh, poor ickle fing,” said Michelle. “Hassums cuttumself?”

“Not badly,” said Lulu.

“I can see that,” said Michelle. “And there’s no need to look so put-upon, either. You don’t have to do this job, you know, if it’s so awful for you. You can always quit early and leave me and Jasmine in the lurch here, which I know you’re dying to. I bet if you asked Daddy nicely, he’d send you back to university for another year.”

Lulu located the faintly unsavory first-aid kit under the counter, bandaged her finger in silence, and returned to her glasses. When her lunch break came, she thought, she would go back to the attic; it seemed to be where she was happiest these days.

Fee had adopted Emma’s earlier suggestion of placing a notice on the front door at times when she felt it necessary, and the family now knew that a small sticker in the shape of a rainbow signified that she was seeing a client in particular need and requested quiet in the house. There was one such there today, so Lulu opened the door with particular care, laying a finger to her lips at Toby, curled contentedly on a chair cushion beside the hall table, who greeted her with a sleepy silent yawn and outstretched paw, and promptly returned to sleep. From her father’s study on the left of the house came David’s voice, talking quietly to someone on the telephone, and she stood, irresolute, for a moment, wondering whether to go to speak to him. She had not seen him since he had returned from Greece, and was by no means sure that she had forgiven him for their last conversation.

Whoever he was talking to seemed to need some reassurance.