’ ‘Melusine, did you say?’ Mrs Sindlesham sighed. She could feel his warm little body trying to snuggle into her, trying to wriggle loose of his swaddling cloth. Ennison was deeply interested. Straitened circumstances would not have mattered; a mother would have managed somehow. “I am staying at the Savoy. You know that I am practically destitute, without means or any certain knowledge of where my next meal is coming from. It was dawn: Cathy would soon be off to the restaurant and Larry off to paint a house. It was his turn to express astonishment. It was convenient for Father Saint-Simon, who could enter this way and prepare in the little room before going up the narrow stair to the chapel above where the nuns waited. And in these crowded four weeks, what had she learned? That all horizons were lies: that smiles and handshakes and goodbyes and welcomes were lies: that there were really no to-morrows, only a treadmill of to-days: and that out of these lies and mirages she had plucked a bitter truth—she was alone.
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