When she put the receiver down, Raj spoke. “Mrs. Whitman told me to give you these raffle tickets for Saturday.”

Brenna didn’t acknowledge his presence or what he had said. He put the roll of tickets on the telephone table beside her and went into the kitchen for a glass of milk. When he walked back past her, hesitating again at the door, she still hadn’t moved.

“I need bus fare for the day trip tomorrow,” he said quietly.

The telephone rang and Brenna flinched. She didn’t answer it or him. Raj went to his room. Emerging from it a few minutes later, wrapped in an old tablecloth and wearing a towel turban, he sat on the stairs.

Cecilia bustled through the front door a little while later. “I am in a foul mood,” said the nine-year-old imperiously. “Just foul!”

“Yes, memsahib.” Raj helped her off with her coat, taking her bag and following her up to her room. She threw herself face down onto her bed and he sat beside her, rubbing her shoulders.

“I shall need a long massage today,” she said. “Sister Jeffries told me my handwriting was like a boy’s: snakes and snails and puppy-dog tails. And the whole class heard. I told her I was naturally left-handed. And she said no one is naturally left-handed. I hate Sister Jeffries. I need an extra-long, extra-long, extra-long massage.”

“Yes, memsahib.”

When she had calmed a little, she said, “How are your wives, Gupta?”

“They are well, memsahib. I married another one yesterday.”

“Good lord, man. And how old is this one?”

“She is two, memsahib.”

“How uncivilized.” She rolled over, pointing down at her wiggling toes.

He took off her shoes and socks and began to massage her feet. “I did get rid of one of my older ones, though. Sold her to the knacker’s yard for glue.”

“Good gracious.”

They heard the front door open.

“That can’t be Daddy, can it?” Cecilia said, closing her eyes with the pleasure of the massage.

A second later her eyes were wide open, and she pulled herself up against the headboard. The two children sat hunched and rigid as Brenna’s screaming voice echoed through the house. Finally, she went quiet.

A few minutes later, Haig entered.

“What’s wrong with Mummy?” Cecilia said.

“It was just a misunderstanding, darling. I have explained. All is well, and she’s perfectly fine now.” He went to leave but, struck by an afterthought, turned back. “Mummy…is sorry for raising her voice. She asked me to convey that. She got the wrong end of the stick. So all is well.”

The children spent the next hour continuing with their make-believe. Raj became a monkey for a while, tickling Cecilia and leaping all over the room. Then they played snakes and ladders. Whenever Raj was winning, he would, with expert sleight of hand, either undercount or overcount in order to make sure he landed on a snake.

At last, he got off the bed, and said, “Memsahib, I have to make water.” This was a new part of the game, which had begun just a week ago.