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felt dizzy, then she went out and walked around London. When she returned, she ate her dinner in her room, still waiting, at least for a phone call. She drank a bottle of wine and fell asleep while it was still light. She didn't wake until she heard something out in the hall. Another argument; a man's raised voice. When the shouting stopped, she took a shower and found there was only cold water, with intermittent bursts of warmth. The soap was grainy and smelled like Lysol. Maddy got out and wrapped a towel around herself, then flopped onto the bed. It was nearly eleven when he finally arrived. The front desk hadn't bothered to call Maddy to let her know she had a guest; they just let him up. He could have been anyone, a madman out for revenge, a serial killer. Paul knocked on the door and called out her name. For a moment Maddy forced herself to remain still. She didn't want to reveal herself as desperate, not even to herself. Let him suffer. Let him wait.
    He knocked again. Maddy went to open the door. She had only the towel wrapped around her.
    â€œJesus,” Paul said, “who were you expecting?” He laughed. “Hello, little sister.”
    He had shaven his head and had lost weight. He looked all skin and bones. Good, Maddy thought. She hoped he was miserable, just as she was. She hoped he was regretting this marriage he'd committed himself to.
    â€œYou didn't write, you didn't call,” Maddy said, trying to be lighthearted. It didn't come out that way. It sounded pathetic. Just what she didn't want. But he didn't seem to notice; he was blank and distracted. His eyes looked filmy, as though he had conjunctivitis.
    â€œWe were never anything to each other, Maddy. You knew that. Let's leave it at that. If you call me again, I won't call you back.”
    Maddy had hung up her silk dress over the window and a weird azure light came into the room.
    â€œI feel sorry for Allie,” she said. “I really do.”
    â€œSo do I,” Paul agreed.
    â€œAre you always such a selfish egomaniac?”
    â€œAre you?”
    â€œIf I tell her, she won't understand. She won't forgive you.”
    â€œShe shouldn't,” Paul said. “Neither should you.”
    â€œMaybe I won't,” Maddy said.
    He left without saying anything more. She wasn't even worth that much to him. Maddy got dressed. She felt used and bitter. She went down to the hotel restaurant and sat in a booth in the bar. There was an elderly gentleman having a drink and a couple laughing and sharing dessert. The waitress came over. It was closing time, but Maddy explained that she had recently arrived from the States and her schedule was off. The waitress brought her a salad and a piece of quiche along with a glass of Pinot Grigio. It was a little cooler in the restaurant, but she was still burning.
    â€œQuiche all right?” the waitress asked.
    It happened to have no taste whatsoever, but the salad was fine, and the wine even better.
    â€œNot bad,” Maddy said.
    She sat there for nearly an hour drinking wine. When she finally got up to go, only the old man and the bartender were left. The couple and even the waitress had gone. Maddy took the lift to the seventh floor and promptly got lost in the hall. At last she found her way to 708. She unlocked her door and wondered if anyone else was staying on her floor. She hadn't seen another person since leaving the bar. She turned off the malfunctioning air conditioner and opened her window, even though soot and the sound of traffic came into the room. Then she curled up on the bed in her clothes.

    T HEIR FATHER LEFT when Maddy and Allie were eleven and twelve, while their mother was still in treatment. He moved into a house in town, about three miles inland. Their mother said not to blame him. She told them some people couldn't deal with illness; the very thought of a hospital made them dizzy with fear and grief. Allie and Maddy didn't believe her. If their father was dizzy