Lucy loved orchestras, the bittersweet tinge of rosin dust that hung in the air, the way that the sun shone through filthy windows illuminating the marimbas with a storybook light. Martha had been careful to make no mention of Melusine, and did not reply to Mrs Ibstock’s enquiry about the fate of the little babe. ‘Well?’ demanded Miss Froxfield, accepting a glass of lemonade proffered by a passing lackey. Rumor in the Palazzo had it that her new doctor was a powerful archbishop from the south who conducted most of his dealings in secret. A deep dread calm, like that which precedes a thunderstorm, now prevailed amongst the assemblage. Ah Cum made a movement as though to follow, but reconsidered. She waited a few minutes, then greeted the burly doorman who stood as the building’s lone sentry. She pulled a few strands of her hair from her head to leave with Michelle’s. “You were seen to leave the flat, and your handkerchief was found there.
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