Lulu smiled at the memory. “Ah, chérie, it was fantastic. The parties went on for three days. I hardly stopped singing. The Coyote, the Jockey Club, The Dingo, Bricktop’s…Made a packet but then spent it all. So many Americans, though!” Her volume had risen. People sitting nearby were turning around and staring their disapproval. “Paris isn’t what it was. There are too many guide books, giving out the names of all the best places. The Quarter’s overrun with despicable tourists. If it carries on like this, we’ll have to find somewhere else.”

Genevieve looked stricken. “You wouldn’t leave, would you?”

“Of course not, chérie. Not really. What’s the matter? Something’s wrong.”

A woman with jowls and scaly skin turned around and shushed them.

Lulu pulled a face at her.

“Did you get the letters I sent you?” Genevieve asked in a whisper.

“Yes, yes.”

“Then why didn’t you write back?”

“Oh, I don’t pay much attention to the post.” Lulu flapped a dismissive hand. “It’s never good news if it comes in an envelope.”

“Lulu! Did you even read them?”

“Ah, chérie.” A shrug. “I’m not much of a one for words.”

Genevieve seemed angry now. “Well, if you had, you’d have known how desperate I was to get back. You’d have known how hideous it was being stuck there in that house full of bad memories, trying to say the right things to a barrage of visitors who kept telling me what a wonderful lady my mother was. Actually, she wasn’t.”

“Vivi.” Lulu put a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry. Our lives are so different. Family…duty…I’ve never known these things. It’s hard for me to understand how it is for you. I will try, though, I promise. Shall we get out of here and go somewhere we can talk?”

“I can’t get rid of the memories!” Genevieve was twisting her hands around each other, knotting her fingers. “Being there again—it brought it all back so vividly. And there’s something else.”

“What? What is it, Vivi?”

“Kindly save your conversation until later.” It was the jowly woman again. “There’s a show in progress here, or perhaps you hadn’t noticed.”

“Show?” Lulu raised her sculpted eyebrows and leaned forward. “Do you want to see a show, you old lizard? Do you want to see a show?”

The woman’s ugly face twisted into a scowl, and she turned away.

Genevieve laughed. It seemed to have lifted again—whatever it was that was troubling her.

“Now,” said Lulu. “What were we saying before we were so rudely interrupted?”