Doors Before Diamonds

All the Law The mornings settled themselves into a choreography no one had rehearsed but all of them somehow knew. Maeve kept one palm curved under Sorcha’s small skull and the other balancing Seamus’s bottle while the kettle ticked itself toward the boil. RJ clattered bowls like cymbals, delighted to be assigned “dry hand” for the breakfast-table clean-line; Ellie prowled barefoot in her bunny pyjamas until she made her choice—up, always up—and scaled Rowan as if he were the only mountain on the island, koala-clinging to his shoulder with the solemn focus of a mountaineer and then dissolving into giggles when he swayed.