Bannerman had asked him for background on Jansen and Lapointe. But Platt had gone further than that. The hours he’d spent searching through records at the Tribunal de Commerce had repaid him handsomely. At last he had something to trade with Bannerman. He had bargaining power.

He felt the first grumblings of his ulcer. With fumbling fingers he opened a bottle of antacid tablets and shoved two past his lips. And in a gesture that had become second nature, he took out the red handkerchief to mop his brow.

Hesitantly he reached for the phone and dialled.

II

Tania kept her eyes fixed on Bannerman’s face as he flicked through her drawings, averting them only when he looked up. It had been Sally’s idea to show him the drawings. Slater had omitted to pack them and she had found them still in the folder beneath her bed.

They all sat around a small desk by her bedroom window where the late afternoon sun streamed in, warm and soft, to suffuse the room with gentle light. She could not remember ever having felt such inner calm.

She noticed the way that Bannerman and Sally looked at each other. Something in their eyes. She was not jealous, even though she realized that they had feelings for each other. But with the extraordinary perception that was her gift, she was aware that neither was ready to admit it.

Today had been the best day of her life. None of that frustration that grew and grew inside her until it exploded from the inside out, stealing away control. It was wonderful. She glowed within.

They had lunched at a bistro not far from the park in the Boulevard de l’Empereur, where they had been served cold chicken salad. Tania had watched the adults drink dry white wine. All their faces glowed red from the cold and the exertions of the snow fight, and they ate in silence, pleased just to look at one another and smile. Afterwards, they walked back through the park to the apartment.

Bannerman gathered all the drawings together. ‘They’re just amazing,’ he said. He looked at Tania, waiting until she lifted her eyes to meet his. ‘You have a marvellous talent,’ he told her. ‘Maybe we can get these published when we get back to Scotland. Would you like that?’

If that meant showing them to other people she wasn’t sure. They were such private things. She only wanted those she loved to see them.

Bannerman sensed her uncertainty. He said softly, ‘They say everything that you cannot say with words, little one. They can tell the whole world about you, all the things that you see and feel and need, just like everyone else.’ She smiled and reached for his hand. He took it and squeezed it and tensed inside as he made a difficult decision.