Deirdre returned to the living room from the garden and changed the subject, “I’m hungry, Mrs. Engel.”

“In a minute, sweetie. Your porridge will be ready soon!”

The night, surprisingly, turned out to be a restless one. Then, the next early morning, Deirdre found herself woken up by a shrill commotion with Mrs. Engel’s best attempt at consolation thrown in. She rose, put on a coat, and pushed open her door.

The racket became clearer and sharper. It crashed into her ears. “For the last time, where the h*ll is Brendan Brighthall!? Tell him to get down here right now! I am not leaving until everything’s even!

“How could he do this to me? I sacrificed my entire youth, my better years, to the Brighthall Group! I let them drive me like I was a slave! And he’s repaying all that devotion by sending me away to some foreign country and forcing my children’s schools to expel my kids!?

“What the f*ck is this!? If he’s not going to give me godd*mn explanation, I’m taking this to his old reside