For a second he didn’t say anything. He didn’t even look at me, but I could see the tension in his body and the accompanying flare of his colours – from gas-jet-blue to neon-red –and I knew that I had shaken him.

‘She told you that?’ he said at last.

‘No, not quite. But I know it’s true.’

There was a Pyrex glass beside the sink. He filled it with water and drank it in one, then took a deep breath and filled it again. ‘So if that’s the way she feels,’ he said, ‘then why’s she marrying Le Tresset?’

I smiled and held out the little box, from which the red circle of Lady Blood Moon lit his face with a carnival glow.

‘Sure you won’t have a chocolate?’

Impatiently, he shook his head.

‘All right,’ I said. ‘Just tell me this. When you first saw me, you called me Vianne. Why was that?’

‘I told you before. You looked like her. Well, at least – the way she used to be.’

‘Used to be?’

‘She’s different now,’ he said. ‘Her hair, her clothes . . .’

‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘That’s Thierry’s influence. He’s a total control freak; insanely jealous; always wanting things his way. At first he was great. He helped with the kids. He gave her presents, expensive ones. Then he began to pressure her. Now he tells her what to wear, how to behave, even how to raise her children. Of course it doesn’t help that he’s her landlord, and could throw her out at any time.’

Roux frowned, and I could tell that I was finally getting to him. I could see doubt in his colours, and, more promisingly, the first flowering of anger.

‘So why didn’t she tell me? Why didn’t she write?’

‘Maybe she was afraid,’ I said.

‘Afraid? Of him?’

‘Perhaps,’ I said.

Now I could see him thinking hard, head lowered, eyes creased in concentration. For some strange reason, he doesn’t trust me; and yet I know he’ll take the bait. For her sake, for Vianne Rocher.

‘I’ll go and see her. Talk to her—’

‘That would be a big mistake.’

‘Why?’

‘She doesn’t want to see you yet. You have to give her time. You can’t just turn up out of the blue and expect her to make a choice.’

His eyes told me that was precisely what he’d expected.

I put a hand on his arm. ‘Listen,’ I said. ‘I’ll talk to her. I’ll try and make her see things your way. But no more visits, no letters, no calls. Trust me on this.’

‘Why should I?’ he said.