The thought of Sorrel’s terror is like a flame that burns Eve’s mind. Those soft fingers scrabbling at the lid above her face, the despair as she wet herself, how her voice must have sounded as she lay calling for her mother in the dark. The admitting team told her there was no sign of sexual abuse, a life jacket in a sea of horror.

“You know, Pops, I think she was asleep most of the time.”

“You mean she was unconscious? Like now?”

“Yes.”

“Why did he do it—Izzy’s dad?”

“I don’t know, darling.” She looks at Poppy’s hands stroking Sorrel’s. Poppy’s fingers are ink-stained and pink; Sorrel’s skin is yellow next to her sister’s, even her nails are pale. Eve touches Poppy’s hair gently; it’s longer now and falls forward as she leans over the bed. “We’ll probably never understand completely,” she tells Poppy, “though we might find out more in court.”

“Izzy’s still my friend, though,” Poppy says, tucking her hair behind her ear. “It’s not her fault. I feel sorry for her, actually.”

She seems to have made up her mind in that generous way children often do, pity being better than anger, easier to bear. They can’t abandon Paul’s family, Poppy is saying, none of this is Izzy’s fault. Eve watches Poppy root around in the bedside dresser for a hairbrush. She’s right. It isn’t Izzy’s fault and it’s not Melly’s either, but she can’t help wishing Melly had found the strength to stand up to Paul sooner. If she had escaped or even fought back, Paul wouldn’t have been part of their lives; Sorrel would have been safe. If she’d shared what was happening with her friends earlier on, they could have helped her leave him behind. She watches Poppy brush her sister’s hair off her face with gentle strokes and thinks of Melly’s bruised face as she last saw her. Melly was Paul’s victim too, she reminds herself, long before Sorrel was; she must have been terrified of defying him, what that would bring down on herself.

“Izzy wants to come and see Sorrel.” Poppy leans forward over the bed to touch her mother’s hand.

“The nurse said only family, my darling.”

“Izzy’s family.”

“Let’s wait and see.”

In the end she misses the exact moment when Sorrel opens her eyes. Eric had taken Poppy home for supper by the time the specialist arrived on a late ward round. Dr. Ari comes every day, a small man with a rapid walk, a little bent, perhaps from the years of study and examining patients. There is a quietness about him that he carries into the room. Eve is watching his face as he listens to Sorrel’s chest when the expression of pure delight breaks on his hawklike features, drawing her eyes instantly to her daughter. Sorrel is staring at the man in front of her, her eyes blank with surprise. Eve’s tears come instantly. She takes Sorrel’s hand and presses it to her cheek, her heart hammering with joy. “Sweetheart, you’re awake!”