“How is Melly?” she manages. “I haven’t seen her for weeks.”

“Better than you’d think,” Grace tells her. “She’s stepped up, like you.”

“Izzy?”

“That child’s made of steel. I’ve had my issues with Izzy but I understand her better now. Melly’s going to make sure she gets the help she needs.”

There is another little pause; there’s so much Eve wants to say to Grace, it’s hard to know where to begin: her gratitude, the guilt, the lasting regret, the value of her friendship.

“Grace . . .”

“Take care.” Then Grace is gone.

Sorrel’s thumb has slipped from her mouth; she is snoring lightly. The thought of her daughter in Paul’s hands is obscene. She had guessed the moment she saw the tiara in his car, but guessing is different from knowing; imagining is different from seeing, and she can see Paul clearly now, see the look on his face as he forced Sorrel into the trunk of his car, then into the chest in his shed. Eve shudders. The doctors had said there was no evidence of sexual abuse. Her gaze lingers on the sweet sleeping face of her daughter; she’s been incredibly unlucky, and also lucky.

Eve starts the car. Grace was good to let her know; she couldn’t have managed so much of this without her. Somewhere along the way Grace has found it in her heart to forgive her and save their friendship. She should reach out to Melly in turn, it’s time she did. While Sorrel is playing with Noah after lunch she finds Melly’s number on her phone; they talk for an hour until the child psychologist arrives midafternoon and she has to go.

Dr. Irving is a woman in her sixties with thick gray hair and eyes that tilt downward. Sorrel stares at her silently.

“I hope you’ll tell me your favorite games and then we can play them together.”

Sorrel moves closer to Eve; she doesn’t reply to any of Dr. Irving’s gentle suggestions. In the end Dr. Irving reads her a story, pointing out the pictures, though most of the time Sorrel’s eyes are closed.

Afterward Eve walks with Dr. Irving to her car, listening intently to her quiet voice. “This will be a long road. At the moment Sorrel is repressing all memories. When she recovers mentally as well as physically, she may start to get odd flashes, triggered by something in the environment perhaps. That could be very frightening for her. Be alert and stay with her. It’s always possible she could be overwhelmed by a sudden flood of memories, though in reality that’s rare.”

“What should we do to support her?”

“Give her space. Let the memories come if they do, but don’t seek them out.” She pats Eve’s arm. “She’s doing as well as we could expect at this stage. I’ll see you next week.”

Later Eve tells Eric what Grace has relayed. Eric’s face darkens; he gets up and stares out the window into the dark garden. “Sorrel would have been safe if I hadn’t worked for Paul and introduced the family. It’s my fault.”