Chaos reigned in the kitchen. Anastasia stood between her husband and her sister, one hand on his chest. Florentine, flushed with defiance, pointed her finger at him, angry words on her lips. Rosalie was glad she missed that argument. Alexander leant against the sink, coffee in his hand, smiling as he watched the heated discussion and interjecting with proud comments on Florentine’s bravery and outrageousness.
She looked outrageous too in Honora’s old coat and Drew’s trousers. Rosalie folded her arms and waited.
‘Mrs P,’ Mr Michaels said. ‘Coffee?’
‘Yes, thank you, Mr Michaels.’
The room became quiet. Florentine, head raised, eyes flashing, did not look at all abashed by her mother’s presence. Rosalie accepted the mug Mr Michaels handed her and sat down.
‘Now then, let’s start with Dr
