Chapter 11

• The air in Renee’s small apartment was quite intense, too intense and stale, smelling faintly of old coffee and then there was also the keen smell of her devastation. Two days had passed since the catastrophe at the hotel, two days since she last heard from Kelvin after his car vanished into the streets, taking with it Renee’s shaky future and, more frighteningly, the financial security she had hoped the union would afford her.
• Renee was huddled on her tiny sofa, barely visible beneath a thick, pale duvet. The sofa was too small for the four women, forcing Clara, Brenda, and Leah to perch uncomfortably on the edge of the rug and the single armchair. The friends had been holding this miserable vigil since yesterday afternoon.
• “Renee, love, please. Just a word?” Brenda pleaded, her voice soft and strained. Brenda was usually the loudest of the group, a woman whose energy could fill a room, but now her volume was subdued, almost nervous. “You haven’t had a proper drink or said anything since we got back. If you won’t eat, will you just talk? Tell us what you need.”