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Chapters (45)
  1. The Man With No Face
  2. Also by
  3. Title
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. Contents
  8. INTRODUCTION
  9. CHAPTER ONE
  10. CHAPTER TWO
  11. CHAPTER THREE
  12. CHAPTER FOUR
  13. CHAPTER FIVE
  14. CHAPTER SIX
  15. CHAPTER SEVEN
  16. CHAPTER EIGHT
  17. CHAPTER NINE
  18. CHAPTER TEN
  19. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  20. CHAPTER TWELVE
  21. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  22. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  23. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  24. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  25. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  26. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  27. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  34. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  35. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  36. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  37. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  42. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  43. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  44. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  45. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

The wooden tables were rough-hewn, and the stools hard and uncompromising. The stone walls were whitewashed and a wooden staircase led to a gallery crowded with more tables. People leaned on the rail and gazed down on the orchestra, faces flickering in the candlelight, tiny mobile pinpoints of light shining in their eyes.

Bannerman and Sally sat at a table by the big window that looked out on the Place du Grand Sablon, and although the café was busy they felt safe and anonymous in its darkness. A waiter with a black shirt and trousers and a white napkin over his arm came to take their order. Sally’s face brightened. ‘You must try their speciality,’ she said. And to the waiter, ‘Deux thés Slaves.’

Bannerman looked around. The clientèle was mostly middle-aged. There were one or two young couples holding hands below tables and watching the orchestra, or gazing at each other as though just discovering love for the first time and believing that somehow it was unique to them.

‘The place never closes,’ Sally said. ‘Open twenty-four hours a day. I used to come in for a drink sometimes after college, and occasionally when I’d been babysitting for Tania.’ She was talking for the sake of talking. ‘On Sundays the square is transformed into a marketplace for antique dealers. The stalls are set out all the way up to the church. You can see the antique shops across the other side there.’

Bannerman smiled and reached for her hand. ‘You don’t have to talk,’ he said.

She took a deep breath and tried to smile. This was difficult for her. She said, ‘I think, perhaps, I could have feelings for you, Neil. I barely know, but maybe it’s worth finding out?’ He felt her hand tighten around his. ‘It’s been too easy just to put it off, not to think about it. But now I’ve got to decide, haven’t I?’

‘I thought you already had. I thought you were going tomorrow.’

The violinist had begun to wander among the tables and he stopped now at theirs to play for them. It seemed as though every eye in the café had turned in their direction. Bannerman looked at him and shook his head almost imperceptibly, but the maestro did not miss it. He was too experienced. He smiled and moved on to the next table. Sally’s smile was strained. ‘God, it’s embarrassing when that happens.’ She hesitated, then for the first time faced him with it. ‘Help me, Neil. Please. If I only knew how you felt. If . . . if you wanted me to, I’d stay.’