“My darling child,” said Fee, “I’d be delighted never to mention the word again, if you were able to suggest some sort of alternative.”

“Well, I’m sorry, I can’t,” said Lulu. Alone in the attic, she scowled at the phone: the pleasure she had been feeling from the new letter had now dissipated into irritation with her mother. “I’m sorry I’m not Emma or Sophie, sorry I can’t come to you with nice little plans for my future all neatly wrapped up with a shiny ribbon on top, nice steady job and respectable marriage for Emma, nice exciting acting career for Sophie. Sorry I’m only messy old mixed-up me.”

If she had hoped to induce guilt in her mother by this speech, she was disappointed.

“Oh, honey!” said Fee. “That is just plain unfair. Of course I’m happy you’re you. But that includes wanting you to be happy, too, and I don’t see how you couldn’t be happier than being unemployed by at least giving that place I’m not allowed to name a try.”

“Well, I see how,” said Lulu. “I’ll talk to you later, Mom, I’m going back to the flat now.”

She would not, she decided, read the remaining letters from Grandma Jo just now: her mother’s call had put her out of sorts, and she wanted to be in the frame of mind to appreciate them. She replaced them instead in the larger envelope, and laid it, carefully, at the left end of the top bookshelf, promising herself that she would come back to discover the rest of the romance at sometime when she needed to be cheered up. She had a feeling the need would be felt more than once over the forthcoming weeks.

She closed the trunk, crossed the attic, and climbed down the ladder to the landing, remembering this time to go gently down the last two rungs. What she had not reckoned with was a splinter on the side that caught her hand as she put the ladder away, scratching her.

“Ow.” She jumped back and shook her stinging hand. “Damn. Ow.” She kicked the ladder’s side crossly. “Bloody object.”

“Are you okay?” Tom the lodger was once again coming out of his room, the now familiar pile of books under his arm.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Lulu inspected her hand: beyond the shock, the damage was negligible. “The ladder doesn’t seem to like me, though.”

“You do seem to have a couple of issues there.” Gently, he took it from her and completed the task of stowing it in the corner. “Have you maybe done something to offend it?”

“Possibly.” Lulu looked at it thoughtfully. “We were neighbors for several years, although I don’t remember any bad blood. But that’s the problem with causing offense, isn’t it? You don’t always know when you do.”

“Maybe you should book a joint session with your mom, get matters out into the open, and let the healing begin.” He looked at her more closely. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look kind of jumpy.”