CHAPTER48
I stood in the sunflower house, watching the dust dancing in rays of light that shone through the new windows. In just a short time, the damage done that night was vanishing into the house’s history. My neighbours, perhaps shamed by the way they had hidden from the mob, had helped in small ways, and the money that the Blanchards and others had been directed to pay me as compensation had done the rest. Maggie was sitting in my kitchen, her son at her breast, and Matty and Elle were to join us with their small package later that day for a meal in the Spring sun in my garden.

CHAPTER 46
Once more it was Marck who saved my life. Whatever debt he had ever owed my brother had been repaid in full and more given besides, it seemed, but this was not a payment I had desired. Not to wake, that had been my hope. I had managed to get the cut across the left forearm, but it was hard to use that hand on the right, and the blood made the handle slippery, twisting in my grip. I had to be satisfied with the flow from one arm, and it was painful, of course, but that was the price for my peace.

CHAPTER 44
It had started again. Marck told me a few days later that they had found nothing in the way of fingerprints, and so nothing could be taken further. Matty was around the day after that, and he began work immediately, with visits from Elle and my god-daughter, to install a system of television cameras connected to a recording device, as well as some strong external lights that would respond to any motion near them.

They were coming, and Salamander was trying to break free of Ridley’s grasp to seek the safety of her burrow. It was Night, and they mostly came out at night. Mostly…

CHAPTER 42
I remembered my behaviour the last time, that time Benny had departed, and with those memories came certainty. I was not alone; Rollo, Margot, even my parents in the deep South, they were not lost to me, nor me to them. There were Matty and Elle, and sweet Pascale. I astonished myself, because I did not go indoors to weep over the destruction but instead rang my brother.

CHAPTER 9
“All rise !”

It was finally our day in court, and I had done my level best, together with help from Rach and Larinda, to present as neatly and femininely as possible. Will was beside me, with John Wilkins, as we waited for the formality of the plea.

“Aneurin Wynford Prentice, you are charged…”

CHAPTER 40
The talk in that class began after that next Christmas had passed. It was nothing that was immediately noticed by myself, but when one looks back to an earlier time the vision may often be clearer than it was at that initial moment. It was later that I saw, later in my years that I could place a marker on my calendar and say, yes, that was the instant, that was the beginning.

CHAPTER 8
“I beg your pardon?”

She wasn’t like that Sergeant, Kirst, Kirsty…I was having a little trouble keeping my thoughts straight. They had me on some pain-killer or other, and while it was seriously good shit, as my junkie friends might put it if I had any, I needed to keep my concentration to get this right.

“I said no statement. Do you know who exactly is behind this?”

CHAPTER 38
There was a train, to the border, and another, in that scruffy place Maman and I had visited, and that train rattled along from the mountains to the flatter areas, streams beneath the tracks that were sometimes dry, sometimes halted in green pools. Eventually we arrived at the edge of the great city, where the train dove under the streets like a dolphin in the waves.

CHAPTER 6
The music ran down, and we gathered together for the drive back. I collared Karen as she started shovelling things into her usual huge bag.

“You heading straight home, lass?”

“Yeah, work tomorrow, and school, usual life-goes-on stuff. Jill, this was good, good for James, too, yeah?”

CHAPTER 36
The classes were various. Pascale introduced me first to those of nine years, and they were full of children with open eyes and minds. This was the language of Hollywood and television, of video games and popular music. It should be understood that in France films in foreign languages are not normally heard in their original form but with the words spoken by specialised French actors, so that the voice of the original performer is an unknown in my country.

CHAPTER 35
I will not live again the pain of those days and weeks, but neither would I wish that they had not happened. I was healed, at last, and with my family to greet me each day of my stay in the hospital the pain became almost a secondary thing. Almost, but not quite. Finally I was released into the care of my brother, sister, and parents, with a set of instructions and warnings for my new life freed from the unwanted extremity.

CHAPTER 34
My life seemed to consist of Summers. There had been the Summer of my rebirth, and the Summer by the sea, and those dreadful Summers when I had hidden from my family, and now it was a Summer of anticipation and adulthood. I was now a teacher, and although my charges were fully grown their language was that of small children. I found it confusing, because while they spoke as infants, the concepts they wished to express were adult. And they were so sweet.

CHAPTER 33
This was a new experience, for I was dressed formally, at Maman’s insistance and under Margot’s eye, in a cream shirt and dark grey skirt to my knees, flesh-coloured stockings and plain black shoes with a heel of perhaps five centimetres. I had asked her about the stockings. It was warm, almost stifling in the noon heat, and I would have gone bare-legged.

“No. That is not what a polite woman does. Not on a first meeting, not in formal attire. And remember: you must tell them of the hospital time to come. And…no, that would be a bad idea”

CHAPTER 31
He looked at me as he drove, and I feared for his steering.

“What are you doing, Sophie?”

“What do you mean?”

CHAPTER 29
I rode trembling to my own stop, my face flooded with tears, my life in broken shards at my feet. I tried to get into our house without being seen, but my mother was there, and I could do nothing but fall into her arms as she stroked and soothed and sighed. She asked a question, just one word.

“How?”

CHAPTER 27
That week Fatima was as good as her word, and on the Wednesday she explained what her brother had told her.

“Your mother can be granted a divorce on the grounds of separation, for that needs only be for two years. The problems come afterwards”

CHAPTER 24
That month flew through our hands. Each morning, we would take our breakfast with the more normal hotel guests, and then I would join some older women for the making of beds and tidying of rooms. The work was not hard, only an hour or two each morning, and then we were free. Maman prepared meals three nights each week, and when I visited her in the kitchen I finally saw the respect my mother had earned. She was no potwasher, no servant, but the chief and director. Thierry smiled at me when I showed my surprise.