I paused on the steps, where there was a mobile signal, and checked my phone. There was nothing from Tom—again—but why should there be? He didn’t owe me a message. My boss had left a crisp recording on voice mail, expressing her hope that I’d be in “for definite” on Monday, asking me to phone her. I typed something quick and dull for Dad—Having such a lovely time, Cory is looking after me really well, I hope you’re fine and eating properly—wondering, as I did so, whether my daily updates were beginning to grate on him as much as they were beginning to grate on me.

I pocketed my phone with a sigh and let my shoulders drop. Perhaps I should give Dad a ring later on and talk to him properly? Then again, I’d be seeing him tomorrow, so there wasn’t much point. I kept forgetting that I had to go home. I was waiting for something to happen that would force me to stay a little longer. A rail strike would do, or a casualty-free inferno at the office.

“Lovely morning!”

The woman flashed me a smile as she reached into the car for a crate of flowers. Mother of the bride, I thought, and murmured my agreement. I spotted satin dresses in plastic coverings hanging over the back seat, and a bulging hatbox that wouldn’t shut properly.

“You’ve got a beautiful place here,” she added deferentially, adjusting her hold on the florist’s box so that it rested on her hip.

I was about to put her straight—honestly, I was—but the sun crept through the trees while I was considering what to say, and all at once the bouquets glowed in her arms, as if each bud had a light inside it. The grass glittered, the sea gleamed, and even the pond with the broken fountain seemed to shine like a flattened pearl. The sky was wider and higher than I’d ever seen it before.

“Yes,” I said. “Yes, we do. Thank you.”

I blushed to think how Diana would react if she overheard me. We’d had no conversation since the day I trespassed into her room, but I caught glimpses of her all the time. I’d see her gaunt figure seated on a bench in the rose garden, or hear her making her painful way along the landing, or smell the trace of her perfume in an empty room. On the few occasions we’d come face to face, Cory had been with me, and she’d made scant acknowledgment of my shy hello.