Abruptly it was austere, grim November, with nothing obliging the occupants of the farmhouse to go outside, and no chores to grant them distance from each other; there was a paucity of merciful, time-consuming labour. It was the worst part of the calendar to host tension and discord, a month marked by lack of colour and merriment, a wealth of frigid wind and days leached of laughter. Traditionally at the farm November was a month for books and board games, cooking and cleaning, but instead they bickered and shut themselves in their rooms, or contrived to spend long hours away from the house. Beck and Melissa enjoyed protracted mornings in bed together and went hiking or drove into town, their absence forcing Daphne into the role of Jill’s companion and confidante.
The exposure of Jill an
