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‘Each winter’s frostbite and the bug

That greets the spring will leave its

Of infant, youth and patriarch’

Stunned silence fell

– a really bad poet, Clara coht

Odile had spoken sole other than the talent of the poet

‘I’ll look after you,’ said the man Clara noho he was too Odile’s boyfriend, Gilles Sandon

‘Why do you really want to go, Gilles?’

‘Just for fun’

‘Is it because she’ll be there?’

There was silence, except for Clara’s screas

‘He’ll be there too, you know,’ Odile pressed

‘Who?’

‘You knoho Monsieur Béliveau,’ said Odile ‘I have a bad feeling about this, Gilles’

There was another pause, then Sandon spoke, his voice deep and flat as though e effort to smother any emotion

‘Don’t worry I won’t kill his Kill Monsieur Béliveau? Who’d even consider such a thing? The old grocer had never even short-changed anyone What could Gilles Sandon possibly have against hi up with soony Clara stared after thee teddy bear of a nature red beard visible even frolanced at her sweaty hands clutching the wooden Easter eggs The cheery colors had bled into her palms

Suddenly the séance, which had seeo when Gabri had put the notice up in the bistro announcing the arrival of the famous psychic, Madame Isadore Blavatsky, now felt different Instead of happy anticipation Clara was filled with dread

THREE