“Don’t come here anymore. Tell your cousin we can’t use her either. Now get out.” She turned, opened the door and indicated the way out. The girl looked at Luc, expecting him to intercede.

“But it’s not necessary, Louise …,” he began.

“We always agreed,” she answered. “You can’t go back on it now.” She turned to the girl again. “Go,” she commanded. And this time Luc was silent.

After the girl had gone, Louise turned to Luc. She was no longer angry, but she was sad.

“How could you betray me?” she asked.

“It’s not so important.”

“It is to me. How many others were there? I need to know.”

“Only Bernadette. She has been using cocaine for years. She’s not addicted. She’s all right.”

“So you’ve lied to me for years.”

“It’s only Bernadette.”

“I can’t trust you, Luc.”

“You can trust me.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I can’t.” She sighed. “Don’t come here anymore, Luc. Don’t come near my girls.”

“Don’t talk to me like that, Louise. You need me.”

She paused. She didn’t need him at all, but she didn’t say it.

“Whatever I owed you was paid long ago,” she said. “You have hurt me very much. I don’t wish to see you anymore.”

“Just don’t forget to pay me,” he said quietly.

“I’m not going to pay you anymore.”

She saw his hand go toward his side. She remembered that he sometimes carried a stiletto. But his hand did not go farther, and she decided it was just an automatic reaction when he was crossed.

“You pay me,” he said, “or you will regret it.” Then he left.

Now, she thought, she had two new girls to find.

After the rapid ending of the strikes in June, Max Le Sourd and his father had seen little of each other. Through the long summer and into the autumn, they had each gone about their business. Each Sunday afternoon, Max would look in at his parents’ apartment in Belleville. His mother would be there, but his father would always go out. In due course, Max supposed, he’d find his father there, but it hadn’t happened so far.

For Max it was a painful time, not only because he felt the separation from his father, but because by the time that summer was over, it was beginning to look as if his father had been right.

True, at first, the party strategy had seemed to be wise. The strikers had accepted the terms of the government’s settlement, and gone back to work. Even the employers had praised the parties and the unions for showing such responsibility. Moreover, the new working conditions were a huge improvement. “This is historic progress,” the unions could claim. They had won respect.