She might, thought Lulu then grimly, just find herself killing Emma before she got around to killing Sophie.

“Excellent,” said Tom. “I didn’t know you were a cook, Lulu.”

“She’s an amazing cook,” said Emma. “Have you tried the stuffing? Isn’t it amazing? She cooks like this all the time.”

She would definitely kill Emma first, thought Lulu. Possibly before the evening was over.

“Is Thanksgiving in California the same as in Boston, Tom?” asked Charlie. “My brother lives in San Francisco, and he says the West Coast is as different from the East Coast as New York is from London.”

It was as well, thought Lulu, kicking Charlie gratefully on the shin, that there were people in the world who were not her sisters.

“Amazing meal,” said Jamie sometime later, wistfully patting his replete stomach. “Everything was fantastic, Lulu. Everything.”

“Wasn’t it?” said Emma. “Is it time for coffee yet? Do you like coffee, Tom? Wait till you taste Lulu’s, it’s coffee perfection.”

“It’s coffee, Emma,” said Lulu. “Get a grip, please.”

“It is good coffee,” said Javier. His gaze flickered to Charlie with teasing affection. “My girlfriend is half Italian, but when she makes coffee, she uses her Irish half, unfortunately. You will like Lulu’s coffee, Tom. It’s strong, like Spanish coffee.”

Lulu sighed. “Who wants coffee?” she said. “Who wants the mind-blowing tsunami of taste sensation that is a cup of bloody coffee? Everyone? Okay.”

She ground the beans, measured them into a pot, and set the machine to percolate. Then she opened the door of the fridge.

“And we’ve run out of milk,” she announced.

“You can’t have run out of milk,” said Emma. “I can’t drink coffee without milk. How can you run out of milk?”

“Easiest thing in the world,” said Lulu. “Share a flat with Sophie.”

“I’m a convalescent,” said Sophie. “I need building up.”

“You need something, all right,” said Lulu. She positioned her back to her mother, and mimed winkling a prawn out of its shell.

“Want me to run out and get some?” said Tom. “There must be a late-night store somewhere near here.”

“Oh, would you?” said Emma. “There’s one just round the corner, actually. I’m sorry to be picky, but I just can’t take coffee without milk.”

“No problem.” He stood and, to Emma’s unutterable delight, looked down at Lulu. “Come and show me the way?” he said.

The night was milder than it had been on the night of Sophie’s accident, and the wind had dropped. Lulu and Tom left the house under a clear sky, turned left, and made their way together to the main road.

“It seems to me,” said Tom after a moment, “that you and I are kind of what we Americans call odd ducks, wouldn’t you say?”

“Probably.” Lulu looked up at him warily through the comforting curtain of hair that waved at the edge of her vision.

He nodded. “I’d say we are,” he said. He paused. “Your sister Emma, on the other hand,” he added, “now, she’s not an odd duck at all, is she?”