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‘Well done’ Clara came up beside him ‘And that’s Mother’ She indicated the next work ‘I sold Éo but look over here’ She pointed to the end here a huge canvas stood ‘All three’

Gae of three elderly woly cos and even so back precipitously, laughing with abandon, and the other tere supporting her and also laughing It ached of intiht in women’s lives It captured their friendship and their dependence on each other It sang of love and a caring that went beyond pleasant lunches and the re into each of their souls, and the combination of the three was almost too much to bear

‘I call it The Three Graces,’ said Clara

‘Perfect,’ Gamache whispered

‘Mother is Faith, E the Graces always depicted as beautiful young things I think wisdo what h there’s space for another’

‘That’s very perceptive of you It is finished, but in each of my works I try to leave a little space, a kind of crack’

‘Why?’

‘Can youon the wall behind the

Galasses

‘Ring the bells that still can ring,

Forget your perfect offering,

There’s a crack in everything,

That’s how the light gets in’

He read it out loud ‘Beautiful Madame Zardo?’ he asked