[15: “It was an accident”]

The house was a reflection of Cherrie’s personality. The walls were pink, with white ceilings, and every wall was covered in tiny shelves, and on every shelf and available surface were tiny china figurines. Ballerinas and bears, hippos and wolves, kittens and puppies, all in detailed miniature.

Every corner had a vase of dried flowers, arrangements with a tuft of grasses sticking out at jaunty angles, bunches of dried roses in crisp bundles arranged around sprays of gauzy white, with flowers that looked like little beads suspended in the air.

The dining table was covered in lace, and plants hung all around it. She ushered the three of them into the drawing room, and she herself sat daintily in a rocking chair, leaving the three of them to perch on the couch amid the lacy pillows, all matching, in every size, stacked neatly from largest to smallest. Dick’s rough hands and heavy jacket looked so out of place that Sama giggled at him, tall and lanky, trying not to upset eight tiny pillows that shared the couch cushion with him.

“Let me get tea. I’ll be right back with a few things. I won’t be but a moment.”

The kettle whistled for a moment, hardly a minute after she left the room. 

“Do you suppose she plans everything? She had water ready just so she could have it ready when we got here.” Meera whispered to Sama.

Cherrie reappeared with a tray of tiny, identical wedges of cheese and biscuits and an ornate teapot and four matching cups.

She plopped a sugar cube in each cup, and started pouring as she asked “One lump or two? Milk? Lemon? Honey? There’s jam for the biscuits, too, if you like, and I think there’s some clotted cream in the kitchen if anyone would like some.”

Dick started to say “No sugar for me”, but got as far as “sug” before Cherrie had handed him a cup of tea with milk and sugar. He held the tiny handle awkwardly for a moment before he shrugged and started to sip.

“So you moved here from India, did you? It must have been wonderfully exotic there.  Sam Jones, our next door neighbor, bless his soul, he died last year of a terrible heart attack, lived there when he was young and he always told the most fantastic stories.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Meera wasn’t sure what to say. 

“Yes, ma’am. Our parents live in Hyderabad.” Sama looked overwhelmed.

“You don’t have to call me ma’am. You can call me Cherrie, dears.”