“I’m not going down there,” said Emma. “I’ve had some chocolate, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Nor me,” said Lulu. “When Dr. Chisholm comes through the door with the news, I’m going to be right here.”

“You probably should eat something,” said Jamie. “It probably won’t make you feel any better, but it probably would do you good.”

“I’m not leaving.” Emma shook her head. “Not negotiable. I’m staying here until it’s over.”

“You should eat something, Emma,” said Matthew. “There’s a café just down the road, shall I go and buy some chicken sandwiches?”

“Honestly, Matthew,” said Emma. “I really don’t care.” Despite herself, her voice had risen. “I can cope with Scrabble,” she said, “but that’s about it. Please don’t make me think about food or make decisions about anything, because I can’t. I just know that I’m staying here until I don’t have to anymore.”

“Why don’t you both go for chicken sandwiches,” said Tom to Matthew and Jamie. “And you might bring some coffee, too—the hospital stuff is terrible.”

After the men had gone, the Scrabble resumed, and Emma was surprised at how quickly she felt calmer. It was a good idea of Tom’s to bring Scrabble, she thought, and a kind one, too; he was obviously a wise man as well as intelligent. It was strange, though, she added to herself, her mind skittering from subject to inconsequential subject in its effort to avoid the unavoidable one, that a successful professional man should choose to live cramped into a room in their parents’ house instead of in a home of his own; and she had noticed that sometimes, when she looked at him when he did not know she was looking, he seemed a little sad. The next time her turn came, she looked at her tiles and spotted an opportunity that pleased her.

“Lodge,” she said, fitting the letters around the O of the disputed isomer. “Like I wish a little sense of honesty would in my sister’s nonexistent conscience. And it’s a double-word score, which makes eighteen.”

“Interesting.” Tom looked at the board and smiled quietly to himself. Then dropped five tiles of his own. “I have query. Q. U. E. R. Y. On the triple-word score, which makes, yes, I do believe it’s fifty-four. And I also get a few more on top of that for making lodge into lodger. Which is kind of what I am at your parents’ house, isn’t it, Emma?”

In any other circumstance, Lulu would have been delighted to see Emma blush for the first time in a dozen years.

Tom leaned back in his chair and looked over at Emma, his lips curling in amusement.

“You know, Emma,” he said, “I have to say I’m sort of disappointed in you.”

“Sorry,” said Emma. “I didn’t mean to be crass.”

“I expect that kind of polite dodging around the subject from British women,” he said. “I’ve lived here for a couple of years now, and I’ve even almost gotten used to it. But you, Emma—you’re Fee’s daughter, just like Lulu here. And if you want to know why I’m renting a room at your parents’ house instead of living in my own place, I’d expect you to come out and ask me directly, rather than having your subconscious sacrifice a good game of Scrabble.”