Aunt Lalana asked.“Not bad,” Darcy said. “More like . . . terrible.”Lalana sat back in her chair, looking satisfied. “I suppose it’s all the mops you’ve been buying.”Darcy rolled her eyes. She had, in fact, bought a mop. But it had been very cheap, and had broken in a week. Its replacement was on the long list of things she needed but couldn’t afford.“I’ve been exploring the city. To stimulate my creativity.”“That’s very commendable. But isn’t ‘exploring’ free?”“Technically, yes.” Darcy looked down at the thali in front of her, a half dozen different dishes in small bowls clustered on a steel tray. Lalana had brought her to the city’s oldest Gujarati restaurant. The food was vegetarian, delicate and perfect, and the free refills were endless. “But not the way we do it, which involves lots of food research.”“I suppose I should be stern with you,” Lalana said with half a smile. “But being right is too much fun. Who’s we?”“Oh, um, Imogen and me.”“You’ve mentioned her before.
