Agathe turned away from the shop and looked back along the cobbled street. It was narrow, lined with tall buildings similar to Fleur’s; a street from an earlier age, it had a gully down the middle to carry away water and much else, but if it wasn’t the best address in Paris, it wasn’t the worst either.

Pull yourself together, she admonished herself. You’ve nowhere else to go and it’ll only be for a very short time, just until you find yourself another position.

The door to the upper floors stood beside that of the shop, and when she pushed it open Agathe found herself in a narrow hallway from which a staircase ascended to the floors above. Slowly she made her way up the stairs and again paused outside the door with the single name beside it. Bastien. Hesitantly, she stepped forward and, grasping the knocker, let it fall.

When Fleur opened the door and found her sister on the threshold, she took an involuntary step backwards.

‘Well,’ she said acidly, ‘and to what do I owe this honour?’

Not an auspicious opening, but she stood aside and let Agathe enter the apartment. She led her sister through an ill-lit hallway into a fair-sized room with long, narrow windows facing the street below. Dust motes danced in the shafts of afternoon sun playing on the old, heavy furniture that crowded the space and on the heavy curtains that attempted to conceal a small kitchen at the far end of the room.

Fleur did not sit down, nor did she offer her sister a seat; she simply stood with hands on hips and waited for Agathe to explain why she had come.

Uninvited, Agathe took a seat on a heavy sofa and then wished she hadn’t as Fleur continued to tower over her.

Agathe gave herself a mental shake and, drawing a deep breath, said, ‘I’ve come to ask if I can stay with you for a few days. Father Lenoir has died and Father Thomas no longer wishes me to be his housekeeper.’

Fleur remained silent, looking down at her, and so Agathe went on, ‘It would only be for a few days until I find myself another job.’

‘And where will you find one?’ asked Fleur, scorn in her voice. ‘Who’s going to employ an old woman like you?’

It echoed her own question, but Agathe replied firmly, ‘I don’t know yet, but I intend to find someone. I have no wish to be a burden to you.’

Fleur looked at her, her brain whirling. She was now sixty-three. She was lonely and tired of managing for herself. Here was a chance to deal with both these problems. She could agree to let Agathe have the tiny room, meant for a maid and currently used for storage, but only on the understanding that she would play the part of that maid while she was there. Fleur had no intention of paying her, but she would shelter her and feed her as a sister should, which, she considered, would be more than enough recompense.