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Chapters (36)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. PROLOGUE
  6. Smita
  7. Giulia
  8. Sarah
  9. Smita
  10. Giulia
  11. Sarah
  12. Smita
  13. Giulia
  14. Sarah
  15. Smita
  16. Giulia
  17. Sarah
  18. Smita
  19. Giulia
  20. Sarah
  21. Smita
  22. Giulia
  23. Sarah
  24. Smita
  25. Giulia
  26. Smita
  27. Sarah
  28. Giulia
  29. Smita
  30. Giulia
  31. Sarah
  32. EPILOGUE
  33. Footnote
  34. THANKS
  35. About the Translator
  36. About the Author

Scrambling to break the uncomfortable silence that had settled over them all, Sarah greeted the young woman and her mother, then left with what she hoped was a confident stride. One question bothered her as she walked back to the waiting taxi: what would Inès do with the information? Would she divulge it? Sarah was tempted to go back, to catch up with Inès in the corridors and beg her to say nothing. But she stopped herself. To do so would be to admit her vulnerability and give Inès a measure of power, a lever.

She adopted a different strategy. Tomorrow, when she arrived at work, she would call Inès in, and offer to make her second-in-command on the Bilgouvar case, the latest ‘hot’ brief for the practice’s most important client. Promotion – an unexpected offer to a young colleague who was sure to accept. Inès would be flattered; she would be in Sarah’s debt. Better still, she would be dependent on her. One way of buying her silence, guaranteeing her loyalty. Inès was ambitious. She would understand that it was not in her interest to speak out and draw the ire of her senior partner.

Sarah left the hospital, reassured by the plan she had just devised. It was almost perfect.

She had forgotten just one thing: something her many years in the business had taught her. If you swim with sharks, best not to spill your own blood.

My work progresses slowly

Like a forest silently growing.

Mine is a demanding task,

A task that nothing should ever interrupt.

And yet I don’t feel alone,

Shut up here in my workshop.

I leave my fingers to their strange ballet.

And reflect on lives I will never live

Journeys I never made

Faces I never saw.

I’m a link in the chain.

A humble link, but no matter,

It seems to me my life is here

In the three strands stretched out before me,

In the hair dancing at the tips of my fingers.

Smita

Badlapur, Uttar Pradesh, India

Nagarajan has fallen asleep. Lying beside him, Smita holds her breath. His first hour of sleep is always restless; she knows she must wait if she is not to wake him up.