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spoke to her, searching Morgan’s face. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing. Are you all right?’ she asked.
    Morgan met her sympathetic gaze with a confused look in her eyes. ‘No,’ she said, after a moment. ‘No.’ Morgan stood up on shaky legs, and gripped the handle of her rolling carry-on bag. ‘No. I have to go.’
    Morgan hesitated for a moment and then went to the ticket counter, which was still deserted. ‘Excuse me,’ she said to the lone agent who was working there.
    The ticket agent, a black girl with perfect make-up and a slicked-back ponytail, and a name tag which read ‘Tanisha’, looked up at Morgan. ‘Yes?’
    ‘I . . . am supposed to be going on this flight,’ she said. ‘To London.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘I can’t go. I have to leave,’ said Morgan. ‘Leave the airport.’
    ‘Are you ill?’ she asked.
    Morgan shook her head. ‘I just got a call. A death . . . in the family,’ she said.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ the girl named Tanisha asked in a gentler tone. ‘Do you want me to reschedule your flight?’
    ‘Oh, no,’ said Morgan, her mind racing, as if trying to flee from the admission she had just heard from Claire. The real world felt unreal to her, as if everything she recognized was just a false facade. Everything she ever knew had been a lie. She fumbled in her jacket pocket and handed her boarding pass to Tanisha. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing. No. Just cross it out. Cross me off the list.’
    Morgan started to leave the lounge and then hesitated, and sat back down in one of the far chairs. She had to tell someone, had to talk about it. She looked at the time on her cellphone, made a mental calculation, and then punched in Simon’s number.
    He answered on the third ring. His voice sounded tinny and far away. In the background she could hear the sounds of music, and people talking and laughing. ‘Simon,’ she said, her voice shaking. ‘It’s Morgan.’
    ‘Morgan,’ he said, sounded pleased. ‘I can hardly hear you. I’m at a drinks party in Belgravia. You’d adore these people. Here, let me step into another room . . .’
    His inference that she would soon meet his friends was consoling. She heard the noise diminishing at the other end and then Simon came back on the line. The sound of his soothing English voice made her want to weep. ‘There we go. Let me just . . . OK. Well, I’m glad to hear from you but, shouldn’t you be off to the airport by now?’
    ‘I’m at the airport,’ she said. ‘But I have to leave. I have to . . . I can’t come. Not tonight.’
    She heard a sharp intake of breath. ‘Can’t come? Morgan, what’s the matter? Why ever not?’
    Morgan took a deep breath. ‘My best friend, Claire, just called me. Remember, I told you. She just had a baby.’
    There was a silence at his end.
    ‘I was the godmother.’
    ‘Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘Right.’
    ‘She’s been arrested. They’re both dead. The baby and her husband. The police think that she . . .’ Morgan began to cry.
    ‘What?’ he said.
    Morgan sniffed. ‘They think that she was the one who . . . killed them.’
    ‘Good God. That’s horrible,’ said Simon. ‘There, there. Now, take it easy.’
    ‘It is horrible,’ Morgan sobbed.
    ‘No wonder you’re upset.’
    ‘Claire is my best friend. She’s like a sister to me.’
    ‘But, I’m not quite clear on why you’re canceling the trip. I mean, you’re not a solicitor. There’s not all that much you can do for her.’
    ‘I can stand by her,’ said Morgan angrily. ‘She has no one else.’
    ‘Well, of course,’ he said soothingly. ‘That’s true, of course. But you realize that these . . . situations can take a long time to be resolved.’
    Morgan was silent.
    ‘Well, I mean, they do. It’s just that simple.’
    ‘I shouldn’t have bothered you,’ said Morgan. ‘I have to go.’
    ‘Now, hold it there. Steady on. That was boorish of me. One can’t think of one’s self at a time like this.