I told him I’d be bringing Liam over later, then went to buy food for my evening meal. Meat was horribly expensive so I settled on a piece of fish and some more cheese. I gazed with awe at the selection of cold meats, cheeses, and pátés. Since I didn’t know the names of any of them I could only point, feeling like an idiot. Then up the stairs again for a good breakfast. The fact that there was still no telegram, no communication at all from Sid and Gus only reinforced my fear that something terrible had happened to them. Even someone lying in a hospital bed can arrange to have a telegram sent. This had to be more than a simple accident or missed train or even a sudden sickness. Were they prisoners or no longer alive?

It was almost a physical pain to let this thought enter my head. Sid and Gus had become the sisters I never had. I couldn’t bear it if anything had happened to them. But there was also fear for myself. What was I supposed to do alone in a strange city? Would Daniel rather that I returned to New York or that I stayed on here alone? Then there was the question of money. I had a little to keep me going, but not enough to pay rent for months to come. Ah, well, I thought with a grim smile. I could always become an artist’s model. It appeared my face and coloring might be in demand. This ridiculous notion cheered me up a little. I fed Liam some mashed carrots, dressed him for the day, left his dirty diapers soaking in a pale of borax, then carried him over to Madeleine. She did indeed seem pleased to see me and I lingered longer than I really wanted to, chatting to her, answering her questions about New York and my life there. She was intrigued to know that my husband was a policeman.

“But that is so dangerous, no?” she asked. “I would be in fear every time he left me. You must be a brave woman.”

“No,” I said. “I am also in fear, but it is his job. Right now I worry about him all the time. I hate to be so far away from him.”

“Then why did you abandon him and come here?”

“I had to leave the city because bad men were making threats on the life of me and my child. They blew up our house and killed my sweet servant girl.”

“Mon dieu, you poor little one,” she said. “How tragic for you to be alone like this. You and I will be friends, no?”

And she held out her hand to me. I took it, feeling the warmth of that chubby, work-worn hand in mind. “Thank you,” I said and blinked back tears.