“In the beginning I envied him,” said Olga. “I wanted his energy for myself. If I could have extracted it, somehow—if I could have bottled it and drank it, I would have done. And then it changed and evolved. It wasn’t just the energy I wanted anymore. It was him. I wanted to possess him. All of him. And I started to see that he needed something from me too.”

“What was it?” Lulu asked. “What did he need from you?”

“It was very simple. He was alone in Paris, and afraid. He needed to belong somewhere. He needed to be cared for. I built him up and made him strong. I made him into the person he is today. My love for him.” She stared down into her drink. “He thinks he doesn’t need me anymore. But he’s wrong. One day soon he will understand that.”

Then she started talking about her children. Lulu wasn’t sure how many there were. She became confused as the story progressed. By the end of the tale she was imagining a whole sea of hungry little faces, with Olga dropping crumbs in their mouths like a big mother-bird. When the barman brought more drinks over, Olga started coughing hard into a handkerchief. She was trying to hide the blood, but Lulu had seen it.

“Does Zachari know how ill you are?”

“Not really. Not the full extent of it.”

“Don’t you think you should tell him?”

Olga buried the handkerchief away. “What for?”

Lulu toyed with her glass, looked sidelong at her. “My friend Genevieve—she’s in love with him. Did you know that?”

Olga laughed. At least, the sound resembled a laugh, but the expression on the face was far from happy. “There are always women like her around Paolo. They come and they go.”

“What do you mean—‘women like her’?”

“Rich women.” Olga spoke the word “rich” as if it was the worst kind of insult. “Women who buy his shoes. They think they can buy Paolo too. But in the end I am the one who stays. He tires of them. He always does.”

“What if Genevieve is the exception to that rule?” Lulu drank deeply.

Olga shook her head firmly. “He will reject her.”

“You seem awfully confident. You think you know him that well?”

“I am the only person in the world who really knows him. He is everything to me.” Suddenly Olga started quivering, her hands barely able to grab her drink.

“Are you all right? Do you need to go home?”

“She doesn’t know how to love.” Olga was shaking violently. “She’s cold like a stone.”

“It’s getting late.” Lulu was suddenly aware of how drunk she was. “I’d better go.”

But Olga had seized her hand. “Have another drink with me. I’m afraid to be alone.”