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CHAPTER 1

Felice Chah her stuffy apart softly as it buainst whatnot tables, an overstuffed arazines She was brooding on the inequality of fate Her ankles had swollen dreadfully in this damp, rainy weather, and the arthritis in her hands made it almost iet old, miserable and unfair

She’d been a great beauty, sixty years ago Paris had been betars then, ay Now she was old and alone in a tacky aparts she couldn’t bear to part with, the contents of a huge house squeezed into her present small flat No one came to see her, and when they did, all she did was complain about horetched life was And then, of course, they didn’t come back

She edged her way into the tiny kitchen, peering out of the grimyinto the rain as it washed over the city she once loved and now hated with a gri passion The kettle was too heavy for her—she’d have totap water

She sighed, leaning against the old sink, as the cold loneliness settled around her There were tiht she’d welco so tired of the struggle

Of course, there wereallant It was odd to see him there—that park was usually the province of old people like herself She didn’t even knohy she went there She didn’t like old people any ant Parisians did

But the young entle, even er kne to flirt It had been wonderful for a few brief hty-year-old woain

He said hepolite But she could hope

Still, today ht be the day She could feel it in her ancient, arthritic bones She would put the kettle on anyway, just in case he happened to clihts of stairs to her apartment

The kettle trembled in her hands, and she set it in the sink and turned the tap The rusty water gushed out noisily, covering any sound in the aparts at the front door lock, couldn’t hear the fli, couldn’t hear the stealthy, silent footsteps through the living area

But her aparterous maze of jumbled furniture She heard the crash as one precariously balanced table of china toppled over, and she turned to blink nearsightedly through the shadowy room

“Who’s there?” Her voice was sharp, honed fro her late husband Her fierce expression softened “Oh, it’s you!” she said “I was hoping you ht come today I was just about to put the kettle on for tea”

“There’s no need,” he said gently,no sound at all

“How did you get in? I always lock the door,” Felice chattered, suddenly, unaccountably nervous She turned back to the sink The kettle was now full—it would be much too heavy to lift

“Don’t be frightened of , like a lover’s She hadn’t heard a lover’s voice in thirty years, and for a moment she shut her eyes as a wave of bittersweet memories swept over her