Lina shakes her head, her cheeks redden.

“Please, sweetie. You might enjoy it and I’d love your company.” She means it; it would be comforting to have Lina’s calm presence on the blanket next to her while Paul and Izzy swim in the sea. She’d love to see Lina enjoy herself for once. They could stroll along the beach together eating ice cream; well, she’d pretend to eat hers. They’d breathe in the salty air and look at the boats. She opens the fridge. “I’ll make the picnic. What would you like? I’m certain we had some Manchego—”

“Mr. Chorley-Smith said they’ll buy something on the way.” Lina studies Venus, who is eating her food with small, savage bites.

“On the way?”

“They left an hour ago.” Lina doesn’t look up.

The kitten steps away from the bowl. The sun is pouring through the windows, illuminating the dirty metal; fragments of leftover cat food are squashed at the edges of the bowl. The sea will be very blue in this light, very clear. The kitten twists her head to lick her sides, it looks as though she’s turning herself inside out. Melissa closes the fridge and walks from the room, unwinding the scarf as she goes and letting it fall to the ground. She phones the clients in Chelsea to let them know she is free today after all, she can bring the curtain fabric to their flat to try against their windows at any time that suits them. The walls in Melissa’s upstairs studio are painted black; the darkness works well as a background, colors glow, things stand out. You have to be careful with your choices, though; dark materials tend to recede. As she assembles the bolts of fabric, she catches sight of her reflection in the mirror; in her black shirt and jeans she seems to be disappearing into the walls.

Blake’s actually looking forward to going back to Eve’s house. That first time was way better than he thought it would be. The garden especially, you can get lost in that garden and no one knows where you are. There were ants and stuff under the leaves, balls of rabbit poo. The mud was sticky like some kind of cake. He was good at making cake, his was the best, Eve had whispered. He can’t remember being the best at anything before. That first time he’d pushed his fingers into the mud and smeared it on his face, like a soldier tracking people in a forest. Next time he could make a shelter with the branches. He could kill rabbits for food and skin them, like that guy on TV. He could make a fire then spear the rabbit and cook it. He’ll share it with Izzy. She’d gotten a knife especially for him, though he’s gone and lost it. For you, she’d said, smiling. She made him feel good, like he’s important or something. He’s looking forward to going to Eve’s again, mostly so he can see Izzy.