I hadn’t slept well, having fallen off the afternoon before and then up half the night with my silly old thoughts. When I heard her calling, I closed my bedroom door—the contents of the box still spread all over the floor—and went out. Grace charged in and said she wanted to know what the GP had said about travelling but she was agitated, couldn’t sit still. “She says I’m fit for anything,” I lied, but my heart wasn’t in it. I was exhausted. I couldn’t even muster the energy for the shop, and the idea of fixing breakfast was impossible. I wasn’t hungry anyway, I felt as if I hadn’t been hungry for months. “I found some two-for-one flights to Paris in November,” Grace said, walking from the kitchen to the dining room and back. Where did she get the energy? “If I came with you, we’ve got a better chance of getting you there and back alive.” “Have a cup of tea, dear, for goodness’ sake.
