‘Fabulous, isn’t it?’ That was Zozie. She isn’t used to Madame’s ways, and Madame gave her a piercing look, taking in the overlong skirt, the hair pinned up with a plastic rose, the jangling bracelets on her arms and the cherry-print wedges on her feet – worn today with a pair of striped stockings in pink and black.

‘We fixed up the chairs ourselves,’ she said, reaching into the display box to select the chocolates. ‘We thought it would be nice to cheer the place up a bit.’

Madame gave the kind of smile you see on the face of a ballet dancer whose shoes are hurting them.

Zozie kept talking, oblivious. ‘Right now. Rum truffles. There you are. What colour ribbon? Pink looks nice. Or maybe red. What do you think?’

Madame said nothing, although Zozie seemed not to require an answer. She wrapped the chocolates in their little box, added a ribbon and a paper flower, and placed the confection on the counter between them.

‘These truffles look different,’ said Madame, looking at them suspiciously through the cellophane.

‘They are,’ said Zozie. ‘Yanne makes them herself.’

‘Pity,’ said Madame. ‘I liked the others.’

‘You’ll like these better,’ said Zozie. ‘Try one. It’s on the house.’

I could have told her she was wasting her time. City people are often suspicious of a free gift. Some refuse automatically, as if unwilling to be beholden to anyone, even to the tune of a single chocolate. Madame gave a little sniff – a well-bred version of Laurent’s mweh. She put down the coins on the counter-top—

And it was then that I thought I saw it. An almost invisible flick of the fingers as her hand brushed against Zozie’s. A brief gleam of something in the grey November air. It might have been the flicker of a neon sign across the square – except that Le P’tit Pinson is shut, and it would be another four hours at least before the street-lights went on. Besides, I ought to know that gleam. That spark, like electricity, that leaps from one person to the next—

‘Go on,’ said Zozie. ‘It’s been so long since you indulged.’

Madame had felt it just as I had. In a moment I saw her expression change. Beneath the refinement of powder and paste, a confusion; a longing; a loneliness; loss – feelings that shifted like clouds across her pinched pale features—

Hastily, I averted my eyes. I don’t want to know your secrets, I thought. I don’t want to know your thoughts. Take your silly little dog and your chocolates and go home before it’s—

Too late. I’d seen.