Hannah brought the first officer through the service door. She pointed to the knife before anyone came close, then stepped aside when he told her to stay clear.
He spoke to Nora and Cal, short instructions, making sure he could see their hands. Another officer came behind him and kept the doorway clear. Nora told them Cal was hurt and she was pressing on the wound. The first officer saw the cloth, saw her injured arm and knelt beside her, keeping Cal's hand away from the tool.
“Keep doing that until I tell you,” he said.
She did. It was a relief to be given something definite after so many days deciding how much of an account another person could bear.
Cal tried to speak. The officer told him help was coming and asked him to keep still. Nora watched his hand settle near Cal's shoulder, steadying him without moving the arm she was pressing.
The ambulance crew followed. They took the space around Cal, asked questions, brought equipment close. One of them replaced Nora's hand on the cloth; another helped her move back without pulling the injured arm.
She stood too quickly. The room went pale at the edges. An officer steadied her by the good side and told her to sit. Nora looked for the green chair and found it beside the display wall, still ugly, still perfectly useful.
She sat.
Cal was speaking to the people treating him. His voice was clearer now, frightened but alive. Nora listened for that more than for the words. They asked about the injury and what had happened. She described his grip on her coat, the blade coming toward her and the frightened push she'd given it.
An officer went to Hannah. She stood near the front window with her arms folded tightly, one wrist already marked. The officer looked at it, asked something and listened. Hannah answered without looking at Nora for permission.
Cal turned his head.
“Nor.”
She met his eyes.
“I'm here.”
The officer near him spoke about arrest. There were words Nora knew and did not want to hear beside her brother's name. He would receive treatment. He would not simply be allowed to leave with her after it. The separate body enquiry was already moving, and what had happened in the showroom belonged to the officers who'd entered it.
Cal began to protest, then winced as someone adjusted the dressing. He looked at Nora again. She kept her eyes on him, refusing neither the person nor the fact of what was happening.
They prepared to take him out. Nora rose, wanting to follow, but an officer asked her to remain so they could speak and check her own injury. She said her arm had been struck against the counter. She would need it assessed. Even now it was tempting to say it was nothing, a small way of making the scene easier.
“It hurts,” she said.
The officer nodded. They would arrange help.
As Cal passed, he reached with his good hand. She touched it briefly. His fingers closed around hers, then released when the people moving him asked for space. Nora did not promise to fix anything later.
The service door stayed open after he left. Someone secured the knife. Someone photographed the floor. Hannah's prints lay where they'd fallen, bright rectangles among the marks of feet. Nora wanted to gather them before they were damaged, but the officer told her to leave things where they were for now.
She stepped back.
The room had been made to draw people through it in a certain way. Now they moved as the emergency required, leaving equipment where it was useful, standing where they needed to see. Nora could no longer make the shelf light the most important thing in the room.
Hannah looked at her from the window. Nora opened her mouth and found she had no sentence which was hers to give.
“I need my phone,” Hannah said.
Nora pointed to where it lay. The officer helped retrieve it. Hannah took it and began to call someone who knew her, somebody who had not wanted her father's money.
Nora sat down again and waited for the question she would answer without deciding first what it might cost.