Juliet’s at the breakfast table before Noah. Usually he’s there well before the others, giving him time to make sure his knife and spoon and fork are in place, getting to the front of the queue before the eggs are all messed up and the butter is smeared with marmalade and toast crumbs. She watches him as he walks, measuring his steps.
There’s something slow about him this morning, as if he’s swimming on the surface of a dream. He joins the short line of people in front of him, slotting into place behind Wandile. Juliet catches his eye and mouths a concerned ‘All right?’ at him. He nods and blinks, almost yawns, still trying to shake himself awake.
When he finally makes it to the table, Juliet leans across and whispers. ‘I’ve got something to tell you, Noah. It’s important.’
‘Okay.’ He nods.
‘Now,’ she says, ‘before group.’
She shuts up then, which is unusual at the best of times. She’s looking at Morné and Sadie, her face serious.