“But they are awaiting me,” I said. “I sent a cable from America. They replied that they were glad I was coming. They told me to send a telegram to inform them which train I was taking from Le Havre and they would come to meet me.” I fought to find the words to make this clear to her in French. “Did a telegram not arrive for them this morning?”

“The telegraph boy did come. I told him they were not here. He went again.”

By now the cabby had brought my bags into the hall and stood there behind me, waiting to be paid.

“This is mad,” I said, not knowing the word for ridiculous. “It doesn’t make sense. They are not the type of people who would depart and not tell me.”

But a small voice nagged at the back of my brain that they were that type of people. They did lots of crazy things on impulse. The one thing they wouldn’t do would be to let down a friend.

She shrugged again. “What can I say? If they are not here, you cannot visit them, can you? I suggest that madame return her bags to the vehicle and go to a hotel until her friends come back. If they decide to come back, that is.”

I was tired, I was weak. The floor was beginning to sway again as if I was back on the ship, and now I was angry too. “Absolutely not,” I said. I opened my purse and rummaged in it. “Look.” I waved a piece of paper at her. “Here is their cable. Do you see? I will translate if you don’t read English. It says, ‘So excited you are coming to stay. Send telegram with arrival time and will meet train at Saint-Lazare.’ You see. They are expecting me. Obviously something has delayed them but they will return shortly. Now please escort me to their room and I will await their return.”

My confidence in speaking a foreign tongue grew with my indignation until at the end I was gesturing with my free hand like a true Frenchwoman. She sighed. “Very well. I will take you to their rooms, if you insist. You’ll have to wait for the trunk. My husband will bring it up when he returns. Me, I do not intend to carry it up five flights of stairs.” She started for the staircase. “Follow me,” she said.

I hoisted Liam higher on my hip, and followed her up the stairs, then a second flight, then a third. Our footsteps echoed in the high stairwell. We passed closed doors on each landing, there was no sign of life except for the woman in black and myself. As we started the fourth flight my weakness overcame me and I began to feel dizzy again.