They’re all outside – her ex-husband, their son, the wife who’s replaced her, and the baby – sitting on the pretty deck behind Derek’s condo. They are all behaving wonderfully, their mild, pleasant voices floating out over the lawn, spiked now and then with polite laughter. Lottie has coffee, the others are drinking beer. Carol is nursing the baby. So far no one has asked about Ryan’s eye, but it isn’t really conspicuous yet. A little pink, a little puffy. Tomorrow it may be closed up, it may have begun to darken. Carol turns to her suddenly – they’ve been talking about rugby, which Ryan played in England – and says, ‘You look exhausted, Lottie. I wish you’d think about staying over. There’s loads of room.’ ‘Oh no, but thanks,’ Lottie says. She’s appalled at the notion. ‘I really don’t mind the drive back. And I have a lot of work still to do. Packing up, that kind of stuff.’ The baby shudders, suddenly, and falls away from Carol’s body, making a wet, smacking sound with its mouth.
