Strongly impregnated with the mingled odours of tobacco, ale, brandy, and other liquors, the atmosphere was almost stifling. There were so many things about her which he could not understand. Michelle was on her like a fly, asking her questions about her past foster homes she did her best to avoid, pretending to be swamped every night with sudden reams of homework and unable to be reached by phone. ‘Where is Gérard?’ ‘Out of town,’ Hilary said briefly. She stared at him. At this gate two paths meet. Yet there was nothing for her to do. Why not? Imagine I’ve had a fit of hysteria—and that I’ve come round.
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