Mira woke before the alarm because the flat felt different. The air had a quiet she could use. No ward bells, no trolley wheels, no shift voices. Only the hum of the fridge, a car in the distance, a neighbor's kettle clicking on through the wall, and the small green blink from the monitor table.
She lay still and checked herself step by step. Head: heavy but clear enough. Chest: the usual weight, not worse than yesterday. Arms and face: warmer than they should be, the same heat that started since the tonic, but not burning. She sat up slowly, reached for the cane, and let her feet find the floor.
Her fingers found the ribbon on the bedframe and then the wall at shoulder height. She walked the short line to the bathroom, counted the steps, and turned on the tap. Cold water cleared some of the heat in her face. The mirror gave her only a pale shape. She touched the edge once and moved on.
When she came back to the bedroom, the phone vibrated. A short message from Selina, exactly on time: "We're here. Door in 30 seconds."
Three gentle knocks, the same rhythm as in the ward. Selina entered with one step and waited for Mira to answer before crossing the room.
"Good morning," Selina said. "How did you sleep?"
"Better than the ward. Worse than I wanted."
"Any pain?"
"No pain. The same heat in my face and arms."
"We'll note it," Selina said. "Do you want tea first or breakfast first?"
"Tea."
"Tea first," Selina repeated, so the room would remember. "Then stretches. Then breakfast."
Kael stepped in behind her with two bags. He said, "Morning," and went straight to the kitchen. The bags made the soft sound of fruit and bread. He opened the window two fingers wide and checked the latch. He did not ask permission to check the back door; he had received that permission yesterday and said "checking back door" as he did it.
Selina put a hand on the doorframe. "Ready to walk to the chair?"
"Yes."
"We'll go slow."
They did the short path they had practiced: bed to door, door to hallway, hallway to sitting room. Selina gave information only when needed. "Step," "turn," "chair." Mira sat by the window. The cushion remembered her shape. She waited while Selina placed the mug on the side table.
Kael put the kettle on and set a mug for himself that he did not fill. "News is on low," he said. "Sound okay?"
"Yes," Mira said.
The morning presenter was reading headlines without stress in her voice, as if stress did not help anyone. "Police continue to seek witnesses in the death of Doctor Ian Merrow," she said. "They are reviewing footage from transport stops near Barrow Lane. Sources say there are gaps in time stamps on one camera. It's not yet clear if it was a technical fault or tampering."
Selina glanced toward the set. "Volume okay?" she asked.
"Keep it," Mira said. "I'm listening."
"Power companies report overnight surges and brief outages in three districts," the presenter continued. "Engineers blame atmospheric conditions. Astronomers say the meteor fragment may be visible again this week near dusk if sky cover remains light. They repeat there is no danger to the public."
"Is there a time?" Mira asked.
"Dusk window," Kael said, "nineteen-hundred to twenty-hundred. If the cloud behaves."
"Will you tell me when it happens?"
"Yes," Kael said.
Tea arrived with the right amount of heat and the right amount of milk. Selina set it where Mira's hand expected it. Mira took a careful sip. It tasted like a plan.
They moved into the first block of the day: stretches sitting, then standing, then sitting again. Short walk to the kitchen. Labels under fingers. Jug left of sink. Bread box under the shelf with the tactile dot. Tea tin beside it. Kael had printed large stickers with clear words and placed them yesterday. Mira made herself touch each sticker and say it out loud so her hands would not depend on memory alone.
"Toast?" Selina asked.
"Yes. One slice."
"Egg?"
"No egg this morning."
"Fruit?"
"Half an apple."
"Done."
Kael cut the apple and said "left half" as he set it on the plate. She could smell it before she could find it. The toast clicked up. Selina buttered it lightly. They ate without small talk for a minute. The quiet felt like a tool in the room, not a gap.
When the plates were cleared, Selina took out a thin folder. "We'll confirm your week. You can change anything you want. This is only a draft."
"Read it," Mira said.
"Daily: morning block like today. Tonic at eight in the evening, half dose, with Patel listening by phone. If the heat increases or you feel faint, we stop and call. Three short walks in the day, no more than fifteen minutes each, with rests. One errand later in the week if you feel stable—post office or pharmacy—with Kael present and me at the flat."
"Fine."
"Two calls this week: one to the pharmacy to switch to large-print labels, one to the monitoring service to list names with access. I'll read the names to you. You can remove anyone you don't want on the list."
"Good," Mira said. "Put Ms. Troy on the list and mark her 'read-only'."
Selina wrote it down. "Done."
"Who is on it now?" Mira asked.
Selina opened a printed page. "Clinic support. Monitoring service. Agency. Dr. Harland."
"Anyone from donors?" Mira asked.
"Not listed."
"Keep it that way."
"Done."
A phone buzzed. Kael checked it. "Repair for the front step scheduled for Thursday morning," he said. "Nora spoke to the council."
Mira smiled. "She thinks about everything near five houses."
Selina smiled too. "She does." Then, business again: "I'll do a fridge check at ten and place a small order for staples. Do you want to listen to the list or trust me on basics?"
"Read it," Mira said.
"Bread, milk, fruit, vegetables, yogurt, oats, beans, rice, tea, coffee, honey, herbs, two ready soups, one frozen back-up meal."
"Add lemon. And salt crackers."
"Adding lemon and salt crackers."
Kael washed the two mugs and set them to dry. He checked the monitor light. The green blink showed steady rhythm at the old pace it always used. He made no opinion known. He said, "I'll walk the block and be back in seven minutes."
"Okay," Mira said.
He left without making the room feel abandoned. Selina took the chair opposite Mira. They let the news run. A politics piece passed. A transport update passed. Community stories ran like filler that knew its place.
Then the presenter returned to the Merrow case. "A source close to the investigation says several patient accounts linked to the victim were flagged by banks last month for unusual withdrawals," she said. "The source did not specify which clinics or administrators were involved. Police ask the public not to speculate while they follow up."
Mira put her mug down. "Unusual withdrawals," she repeated.
Selina's voice stayed level. "We'll get your statements in large print."
"I want the whole past year," Mira said.
"We'll ask the bank to mail them and send you digital copies with the screen reader set up."
"I want the past three years," Mira said, correcting herself.
"Okay," Selina said. "We'll request three."
A key turned in the front door. Nora knocked anyway, then let herself in. "It's me," she called. "Hands are full."
She walked straight to the kitchen. Bags down, fridge open, things set in rows. "Milk. Bread. A proper chicken soup from my sister. Crackers. Fruit. You don't have to eat the soup. It smells better than hospital food, that's all I'll say."
"Thank you," Mira said.
Nora washed her hands. "How was the first night?"
"Fine," Mira said.
"Any trouble?"
"No."
"Good." Nora lowered her voice without turning it into a secret. "Don't answer unknown numbers today. Let me or Selina take them."
"One called last night," Mira said. "He said his name was Callum. He would not give a last name."
"Block it," Nora said. "I'll write down a short script by the phone. If anyone calls and says they're from the clinic, you say: 'My carers handle calls. Please use the official number.' Then hang up."
"Okay," Mira said.
Nora looked around the kitchen like she was checking off a mental list. "The step is booked for Thursday morning. I'll be here. If the workers show up early, I'll keep them outside until you say yes."
"Thank you."
"Now, be honest," Nora said, changing tone, "do you want to get some air at the door? Just two minutes. We won't go anywhere. It's cold but it might help."
"Later," Mira said. "After the first walk."
"Good. I'll make a pot of tea and then I'll get out of your way so you can do your schedule." She turned to Selina. "Do you need anything from me today?"
"Two things," Selina said. "If anyone asks to come in for 'monitoring maintenance' or 'unplanned checks,' call me first and then the agency. And please look out the window if you see the van in the evening. Note the time, even if they don't knock."
"I always do," Nora said. "Last time they came at ten. I shouted at them from the steps."
"Thank you," Selina said.
Kael came back in. "Street is quiet," he said. "Two vans parked at the far end since last night. Same plates. Not the service company."
Nora snorted. "Builders who never build. They leave vans there and think nobody knows. I know."
Kael said nothing. He crossed to the fridge, took a bottle of water, and put it on the side table for Mira. "Sip during the calls," he said.
"At ten," Selina said, "we call the pharmacy."
They did. The pharmacist picked up on the second ring. "Willow Pharmacy."
"This is Selina Vale, calling for Miss Mira Halden," Selina said. "Can we switch all labels to large print and add voice instructions to the capsule packs?"
"Of course," the pharmacist said. "We can begin with the next delivery. Also, we can place a profile flag: 'read instructions aloud on first delivery'."
"Do that," Selina said. "Second: can we get printed schedules in twenty-four-point font?"
"Yes."
Mira leaned toward the phone. "Can I ask you to read the last three deliveries on my account?" she asked. "Dates only."
The pharmacist read the dates. They matched the calendar on the fridge. Mira relaxed a little.
"Thank you," she said. "We appreciate it."
They ended the call. At ten-thirty, Selina called the monitoring company. The agent on the line began with a polished script. Selina cut through the script with a list. "I need a full access roster read aloud. Then I need names removed and an email confirming the change."
"Of course," the agent said. "Current roster: Clinic admin, monitoring service shift supervisors, agency, Dr. Harland."
"Add Ms. Troy, read-only," Selina said. "Remove 'clinic admin' as a group. Replace with individual names or no access."
"Clinic admin is a required group," the agent said.
"Send me the policy that makes it required," Selina said. "For now, remove it, and add names only when Miss Halden approves them."
There was a long pause while a supervisor came on the line, then another while a policy was found, then a new list. "We can set 'clinic admin' to disabled," the supervisor said. "No access until reactivated. Ms. Troy added read-only. Dr. Harland remains."
"Email the change log now," Selina said. "We'll confirm receipt before we hang up."
The email arrived. Kael read the key lines out loud. Mira nodded.
"Thank you," she said to the phone. "Please note on my profile: calls to me only through my carers. No direct contact."
"Noted," the supervisor said.
They ended the call. Mira felt as if a small stone had been removed from her shoe.
They took the first walk inside the flat: hallway to door, door to hallway, hallway to kitchen. Slow. Breathe. Stop. Stand. Continue. Mira felt the same heat in her face come and go like a tide with no waves. She told Selina when it rose. Selina wrote it down without comment and shortened the second leg of the walk. They rested. They drank water.
At eleven-thirty, Nora returned with two sandwiches wrapped in paper. "Half for now, half for later," she said. "Ham and mustard, egg and cress."
"Egg," Mira said. The taste helped.
The presenter on the television changed to a different voice. "A follow-up on the Merrow case," he said. "Police are interested in speaking with anyone who may have seen two individuals leaving Barrow Lane at around eleven-thirty the night of the incident. Witnesses describe one tall male in a dark coat and another person they could not identify. Investigators do not believe this was a random attack."
Nora clicked her tongue. "We'll see more patrols poking around after a line like that."
"Volume down," Selina said, and lowered it one step.
Mira kept chewing. She did not ask questions. There was no answer she could use. She finished half the sandwich and drank more water.
At noon, Selina read the afternoon block: rest, short stretching, label review, the first pass through the bank tasks. "We won't try to do everything today," she said. "We'll request statements and leave the rest."
"Okay," Mira said.
Selina called the bank with Mira's permission and put the phone on speaker only while the agent verified identity. After that, Selina took it off speaker and spoke clearly, reading each request back to Mira. "Three years of statements, print and digital. Large font on the paper. Email set up with screen reader access." She repeated it twice so the agent would do the same. When the call ended, she summarized in one line. "Arriving in five to seven days."
"Good," Mira said.
At one, Kael stood. "I'll walk the block," he said. "Back in seven."
"Okay," Mira said.
He left. Nora washed two mugs and put them on the rack. "Do you want me to sit with you while they're out, love?"
"Yes," Mira said.
They sat in the sitting room and listened to the street. A van door shut. Someone laughed. A dog barked the way small dogs bark when they think they are big. Nora told a short story about the cat and a bag of flour. Mira smiled.
Kael returned after six minutes. "Quiet," he said. "Two vans still there. Same plates."
At two, the light outside changed without the air getting warmer. The room noticed before the forecast. The lamp blinked once and stayed on. The television picture fuzzed for a breath and settled. The presenter's voice came back with a slight echo.
"Power companies report intermittent flickers in two districts," she said. "Engineers are monitoring. No risk to the grid."
"Lights might go for a second later," Selina said, calm. "We'll keep the lamp on a separate strip."
Nora stood. "I'll fetch a small torch from my place for you, just in case."
"Thank you," Mira said.
In the late afternoon, they reviewed the evening plan. "Tonic at eight," Selina said. "Half dose. We stop at the first sign of anything beyond heat: dizziness, nausea, nosebleed, sudden headache. If there are none, we still stop if you want to stop. It's your call."
"Half only," Mira said. "No more."
"Half only," Selina repeated.
Nora brought the torch and set it on the table. "Tap once to turn on," she said. "It remembers the last setting."
"Got it," Mira said. She tested it once, then set it back.
At five, they ate the other half of the sandwiches and cut an apple. The news repeated itself and added one small line. "Police would like to speak to staff at clinics where the victim consulted in the last three months." Names were not read. The presenter moved on.
At six, Selina read the evening block again so the words would be familiar when Mira was tired. "Rest. Wash. Tonic. Sit with tea. Sleep early if possible."
"Okay," Mira said.
At seven-thirty, Patel called on speaker. "I'm here until nine," she said. "If anything feels wrong, you say stop out loud. Don't wait."
"I will," Mira said.
Selina measured the half dose. Kael checked the monitor. The green blink stayed regular and calm. Selina handed the cup to Mira. "Slow."
Mira drank it in three sips. The sweet-metal taste arrived on time. The heat followed it. Her face warmed first, then her arms, then a soft weight settled at the back of her neck. The lamp did not flicker this time. The monitor blinked the same. The room air felt full, like it held more than oxygen.
"How is it?" Patel asked.
"Hot," Mira said. "Not worse."
"Pulse steady," Kael said.
"Stop if you want," Selina said.
"Not yet," Mira said. "I'm okay."
They waited ten minutes. The heat did not rise further. Mira sipped cool water. She set the cup down and leaned back.
Patel stayed on the line another ten minutes. "Call if anything changes," she said. "I'm here."
"Thank you," Mira said.
They ended the call. Selina made weak tea with honey and set it by Mira's hand. "Sip."
Mira sipped. The taste helped.
Nora stood. "I'll go now," she said. "Ring me if you need anything at all."
"Thank you," Mira said.
Kael walked Nora to the door and checked the street again. He came back and said, "Quiet."
The room settled. The green light blinked. The heat in Mira's face stayed where it was without climbing. She breathed slowly until the sense of fullness passed. She felt tired the way a person feels tired after swimming: arms heavy, neck heavy, a little light behind the eyes even with the lids closed. She opened her eyes again and found the light in the room the same as before.
"Sleep?" Selina asked.
"Yes," Mira said.
They walked the short line to the bedroom. Cane to wall. Ribbon on the bedframe. Sit. Lie down. Cover to shoulder. Phone on table. Torch beside it. Water near the lamp. The cane handle angled where her hand would expect it.
Selina stood at the doorway. "We'll stay until you're asleep," she said. "We'll be here at eight tomorrow."
"Okay," Mira said.
Kael did not speak. She could hear him standing a pace back, the way he did at the ward. He stayed until her breathing steadied. He left when she turned on her side and did not turn back.
Mira did not fall asleep at once. She lay still and listened to the house. The small systems of the flat kept their noises. The fridge clicked. The street was quiet. The lamp held. The monitor blinked. She let the night measure her breath and then she slept.
She dreamed of nothing she could retell. Only a cool patch of air on her face and a sense that the room had brightened for a second when her eyes were closed. She woke and opened them and found the room the same. She closed them and slept again.
Down the hall, Selina read the change log email once more and filed it in a new folder on her phone named "Mira — access." She set a silent alert for deliveries that arrived outside normal hours. She made a list of calls for the morning: Ms. Troy, bank follow-up, step repair confirmation.
Kael stood at the window and watched the street. Two vans sat where they had sat all day. He wrote the plates on a card and put the card in his pocket. He watched the opposite door open and close once. He watched the upstairs light of the corner house blink twice. He wrote nothing more.
At nine-thirty, they left. They locked the door and checked it twice. Nora's hall light was still on. The street was quiet. The sky was a flat gray without lines. No lightning. No trailing light. Nothing the news had promised. Just a still city holding its breath.
Inside, Mira slept. The green light blinked. The kettle was empty. The chair by the window held the dent of the morning.
It was an ordinary first day under new rules. It did not feel ordinary, but it held.
— end of Chapter Seven (Part 1) —