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I sat with my mother-in-law having tea in her flat, a roaring fire before us in the hearth. Between us was a small table holding a tray and a delicate china set I was always afraid I’d knock over. Our nearly translucent cups held a brew dark enough to fortify us after a long walk in Regent’s Park. We’d been just in time to beat the rainstorm now pelting the windows. “Heavens,” Magdalene murmured. “Yes,” I agreed. “All’s right with the world so long as one can find a fireplace in autumn. Here am I with a court case ahead