She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. Michelle was in sight, Lucy could hear her voice, high in the crowd, and saw her blond head bobbing among a sea of faces. “He dissembles,” he said. She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat. ‘You do not like it?’ ‘That is hardly the point. The touch of his lips neither thrilled nor alarmed her, because the eyes that looked into hers were clean. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Lucy asked. Then, as she was in the act of turning reluctantly away, she noticed a thin crack between the door and the frame. Everything was blurred. It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer. He tries hard to conceal it, but he cannot. Part 8 “Why should I ever come back?” she said to herself, as she went down the staircase.
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