`You can't stay in there for ever!' I saw a light go on in one of the windows behind him. `You'll have to come out some time! And then, you bitches! And then!' Automatically I forked his ill-wishing back at him with a quick flick of the fingers.

Avert. Evil spirit, get thee hence.

Another one of Mother's ingrained reflexes. And yet it is surprising how much more secure I feel now. I lay calm and awake for a long time after that, listening to my daughter's soft breathing and watching the random shifting shapes of moonlight through the leaves. I think I tried scrying again, looking in the moving patterns for a sign, a word of reassurance… At night such things are easier to believe, with the Black Man standing watch outside and the weathervane shrilling cri-criii at the top of the church tower. But I saw nothing, felt nothing, and finally fell asleep once more and dreamed of Reynaud standing at the foot of an old man's hospital bed with a cross in one hand and a box of matches in the other.

24

Sunday March 9

ARMANDE CAME IN EARLY THIS MORNING FOR GOSSIP AND chocolate. Wearing a new blonde-straw hat decorated with a red ribbon she looked fresher and more vital than she appeared yesterday. The cane which she has taken to carrying is an affectation; tied with a bright red bow it looks like a little flag of defiance. She ordered chocolat viennois and a 'slice of my black-and-white layer cake and sat down comfortably on a stool. Josephine, who is helping me in the shop for a few days until she decides what to do next, watched with a little apprehension from the kitchen.

`I heard there was some fuss last night,' said Armande in her brusque way. The kindness in her bright black eyes redeems her forwardness. `That lout Muscat, I heard, out here yelling and carrying on.’

I explained as blandly as I could. Armande listened appreciatively. `I only wonder why she didn't leave him years ago,' she said when I had finished. `His father was just as bad. Too free with their opinions, both of them. And with their hands.’

She nodded cheerily at Josephine, standing in the doorway with a pot of hot milk in one hand. `Always knew you'd see sense one day, girl,' she said. `Don't you let anyone talk you out of it now.’

Josephine smiled. `Don't worry,' she said. `I won't.’

We had more customers this morning in La Praline than we have had on any Sunday since Anouk and I moved in. Our regulars – Guillaume, Narcisse, Arnauld and a few others – said little, nodding kindly at Josephine and going on much as normal.

Guillaume turned up at lunchtime, with Anouk. In the excitement of the past couple of days I had only spoken to him a couple of times, but as he walked in I was struck by the abrupt change in him. Gone was hi shrunken, diminished look. Now he walked with a jaunty step, and he was wearing a bright red scarf around his neck which gave him an almost dashing air. From the corner of my eye I saw a darkish blur at his feet. Pantoufle. Anouk ran past Guillaume, her satchel swinging carelessly, ducking under the counter to give me a kiss.

`Maman!' she bugled in my ear. 'Guillaume's found a dog!' I turned to look, my arms still full of Anouk. Guillaume was standing beside the door, his face flushed. At his feet, a small brown-and-white mongrel, no more than a puppy, lolled adoringly.

`Shh, Anouk. It isn't my dog.’ Guillaume's expression was a complex of pleasure and embarrassment. `He was by Les Marauds. I think maybe someone wanted to get rid of him.’

Anouk was feeding sugar lumps to the dog. `Roux found him,' she piped. `Heard him crying down by the river. He told me so.’

`Oh? You saw Roux?’

Anouk nodded absently and tickled the dog, who rolled over with a happy snarl. `He's so cute,' she said. `Are you going to keep him?’

Guillaume smiled, a little sadly. `I don't think so, sweetheart. You know, after Charly-'

`But he's lost, he hasn't anywhere else-'

`I'm sure there are plenty of people willing to give a nice little dog like this a good home.’ Guillaume bent down and gently pulled the dog's ears. `He's a friendly little chap, full of life.’

Insistently: ‘What are you going to call him?’

Guillaume shook his head. `I don't think I'll be keeping him for long enough for that, ma mie.’

Anouk gave me one of her comical looks, and I shook my head at her in silent warning.

`I thought perhaps you could put a card in the shop window,' said Guillaume, sitting down at the counter. `To see if anyone claims him, you know.’

I poured him a cup of mocha and set it down in front of him, with a couple of florentines on the side.

`Of course.’

I smiled.

When I looked back a moment later, the dog was sitting on Guillaume's knee, eating the florentines. Anouk looked at me and winked.

Narcisse had brought me a basket of endives from his nursery, and seeing Josephine, handed her a little bunch of scarlet anemones which he took from his coat pocket, muttering that they would cheer the place up a bit.

Josephine blushed, but looked pleased and tried to thank him. Narcisse shuffled off, embarrassed, gruffly disclaiming.

After the kind came the curious. Word had spread during the sermon that Josephine Muscat had moved into La Praline, and there was a steady flow of vis itors thro ughout the morning. Joline Drou and Caro Clairmont arrived in their spring twinsets and silk headscarves with an invitation to a fund-raising tea on Palm Sunday.

Armande gave a delighted cackle on seeing them. `My my, it's the Sunday morning fashion parade!' she exclaimed.

Caro looked annoyed. `You really shouldn't be here, maman,' she said reproachfully. `You know what the doctor said, don't you?’

`I do indeed!' replied Armande. `What's wrong, aren't I dying fast enough for you? Is that why you have to send that death's-head on a stick to spoil my morning?’

Caro's powdered cheeks reddened. `Really, maman, you shouldn't say things like-' `I'll mind my mouth if you mind your business!' snapped Armande smartly, and Caro almost chipped the tiles with her high heels in her haste to leave.

Then, Denise Arnauld came to see if we needed any extra bread.

`Just in case,' she said, eyes gleaming with curiosity. `Seeing as now you have a guest, and everything.’

I assured her that if we needed bread, we knew where to come.

Then Charlotte Edouard, Lydie Perrin, Georges Dumoulin: one wanting an early birthday present; another details of the chocolate festival – such an original idea, madame; another had dropped a purse outside St Jerome's and wondered whether I might have seen it. I kept Josephine behind the counter with one of my clean yellow aprons to protect her clothes from chocolate spillages, and she managed surprisingly well. She has taken pains with her appearance today. The red jumper and black skirt are neat and businesslike, the dark hair carefully secured with ribbon. Her smile is professional, her head high, and. though her eyes occasionally drift towards the open door in anxious expectation there is little in her bearing to suggest a woman in fear for herself or for her reputation.

`Brazen, that's what she is,' hissed Joline Drou to Caro Clairmont as they passed the door in haste. `Quite brazen. When I think of what that poor man had to bear with-' Josephine's back was turned, but I saw her stiffen. A lull in conversation made Joline's words very audible, and though Guillaume faked a coughing fit in order to cover them, I knew she had heard.

There was a small, embarrassed silence.

Then Armande spoke. `Well, girl, you know, you've made it when those two disapprove,' she said briskly. `Welcome to the wrong side of the tracks!' Josephine gave her a sharp glance of suspicion, then, as if reassured that the joke was not against her, she laughed. The sound was open, carefree; surprised, she brought her hand to her mouth as if to check that the laughter belonged to her. That made her laugh all the more, and the others laughed with her. We were still laughing when the doorbell chimed and Francis Reynaud came quietly into the shop.