‘Not exactly. But I told you. Everyone was going.’

‘And?’

‘Well, it was a unique experience. I suppose I have no regrets.’

I didn’t want to hear any more, but here she was, her knees almost touching my own, and I wanted her to tell me stories until we were hungry or hoarse, until the sky grew dark and the street lamps burned. ‘What was it like inside?’ I asked.

‘Oh. Something else. The viewing salon was dreary. Damp flagstone floor, lamps turned low. On one side of the room there was a window, wall-to-wall, and there were so many of us that at first I could see nothing. And the people were just plain rude, pushing to get a better view. One nasty little urchin mashed my toes with his dirty boots when he budged past me. But there was a guard at the door who moved the masses along, and before I could change my mind again I had been conveyed to the centre of the window and there I stood. Dead people just the other side of the glass, a mere two steps away.’

‘You saw the babies?’

‘I did. I saw them. Other bodies were laid out on tables but the babies were wrapped in red velvet, all dressed in bonnets and boots, sitting up in chairs. It was the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. Their skin was, I don’t know how to describe it, it was falling apart, like cheese. Clearly some sort of theatre grease had been applied to hide this, but I suppose in the end, you can’t deny death.’

A snore rumbled from Madame’s room then, almost like a machine coming to life. Axelle giggled. ‘Will she sleep for very long?’ she asked.

‘Another hour at least,’ I said. From across the road, the hysteric trill-dance of piano. Axelle looked to the window, then to the clock on the mantel, and I feared that now she had finished with her story, she would leave. ‘Are you sure you won’t take coffee? Something sweet?’ I asked. ‘Madame always keeps a bit of chocolate or bergamot.’

‘Wait, I almost forgot.’ She opened her reticule and brought out a small paper bag, shiny with patches of oil. She patted the empty seat next to her. ‘Come,’ she said. ‘Something for you.’

I moved to sit next to her and peered into the paper bag, which she held open. Inside, like baby mice nestled together, cashews. Lovely. Coated in oil and grains of sugar and salt.

‘Not precisely the same as the ones we were forbidden by your Madame, but it was the closest I could find.’

I dipped my fingers into the bag, picked out a nut and put it in my mouth. I didn’t like it. Bits of cashew stuck stubbornly in my teeth and there was too much salt, but Axelle had gone to the trouble. I reached for another cashew and, as I struggled to get it out of the bag without ripping the paper, Axelle touched my face. She touched my cheek with the backs of her fingers. Her lips on the tip of my nose, a kiss.