[20: Boxes] Dick dropped Meera at the door as always, and she slipped inside, stealthy out of habit. It was silent, so she set about making herself tea. A biscuit tin was open on the counter, empty. She peered into the ice box, and saw only a jar of Marmite and a jug of milk. She started when she closed the ice box door and turned around to find Uncle Ram, in his dressing gown and slippers in the doorway, his long grey hair down around his shoulders and tangling in his beard. “I think we need groceries.” He seemed timid. “Hasn’t Nigel been by with any?” Uncle Ram was silent for a moment. “I sent Nigel away.” “When?!”. Meera realized just how little time she’d spent at home this month. Maybe a half dozen nights, and usually coming after dinner and leaving for school first in the morning. “I don’t remember. He was moving things in the kitchen. I made him go away.” “And not come back?” Ram nodded, looking timid and overwhelmed. “Oh dear.” Meera peered into the icebox again. Still nothing for tea, though she half expected to open it and find the usual assortment of her uncle’s favorites, sausages and cheeses. She shut it again. “Well then. Groceries it is.” Uncle Ram stood in the doorway still, looking helpless. “Do you want to call Nigel or drive yourself?” He just shrugged listlessly. For the first time, Meera wished she knew how to operate the car. “I’ll call Dick. Be right back.” She was surprised at the lack of response. Usually any mention of Dick brought up his firey temper, but it was as if Uncle Ram had been replaced. She slipped into the study and called. When she hung up and turned around, Uncle Ram was in the doorway to the study, looking just as lost as he had in the kitchen. “He’s coming down with dinner, if you don’t mind eating with him. We’ll fetch groceries on the way back from school tomorrow.” Uncle Ram just nodded. ---- The huge dining table felt awkwardly empty, with Dick and Meera sitting on opposite sides, leaving a space between them and Uncle Ram. They ate in silence, Meera never certain what to say in front of her uncle, and Dick looking at once out of place and now in the position of caring for someone who had never shown him anything but contempt before. After minutes of silence, Uncle Ram taking slow, steady bites, he finally said “This is good. What is it?” “Mutton Stew, sir.” Dick looked as tense as Meera had ever seen him. “I like it.” The silence was palpable as Uncle Ram kept eating and Meera squirmed nervously.