‘They’re marvelous, Clara. They radiate.’ He turned to look at her in astonishment, as though meeting the woman for the first time. He’d known she was insightful, and courageous and compassionate. But he hadn’t appreciated that she was this gifted. ‘Has anyone seen these?’

‘I gave my portfolio to CC just before Christmas. She’s friends with Denis Fortin.’

‘The gallery owner,’ said Gamache.

‘The best in Quebec, probably in Canada. He has connections to the Musée d’Art contemporain and the Museum of Modern Art in New York. If he likes your stuff you’re launched.’

‘That’s exciting,’ said Gamache.

‘Not really. He hated it.’ She turned away, not able to look any human in the eye as she admitted her failure. ‘CC and Fortin happened to be at Ogilvy’s when I was there for Ruth’s book launch. We passed on the escalator. I was going up and they were going down. I heard CC say to him it was a shame he thought my work was amateurish and banal.’

‘He said that?’ Gamache was surprised.

‘Well, he didn’t, but CC did. She was repeating what he’d said and he didn’t contradict her. Then we’d passed and before I knew it I was out the door. Thank God for the vagrant.’

‘What vagrant?’

Should she tell him? But she already felt skinned and lashed and had no stomach for further exposure even to this man who listened as though she was the only one on earth. She couldn’t admit she believed God was a bag lady.

Did she still believe it?

She paused a moment and considered. Yes, came the simple and clear answer. Yes, she still believed she’d met God on the cold, dark, blessed streets of Montreal at Christmas. Still, she’d embarrassed herself enough this night.

‘Oh, nothing. I gave her a coffee and felt better about myself. Seems to work like that, doesn’t it?’

To kind and compassionate people, thought Gamache, but not to everyone. He knew she was holding something back, but chose not to press. Besides, it couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the case and Armand Gamache had no stomach to breach someone else’s boundaries just because he could.

‘Did CC know you were there when she spoke?’

Clara pretended to think back, but she knew the answer. Had known it from the moment she’d seen CC on the escalator.

‘Yes, we made eye contact briefly. She knew.’

‘That must have been devastating.’

‘I actually thought my heart would stop. I really believed Fortin would like my work. It never occurred to me he wouldn’t. It was my fault, living in a fantasy like that.’

‘When someone stabs you it’s not your fault that you feel pain.’