Chapter 58. Changes

Proserpina

It had been a month since our last, violent meeting, and I had not set eyes on Lucien since.

We, the children and I, never went down if there was a hint of guests arriving. Instead, we hid away like ghosts, staying upstairs until Beatrice appeared to announce that the coast was clear.

The man I had married never came to see us, the twins and I. But his friend, James Schwartz, often turned up, to stay for hours, playing with the kids, quite happy to be in his shirt sleeves, becoming a horse, a donkey, or whatever the kids wished him to be. He would make them laugh as he sat on the floor of the nursery, or carry them around on his strong shoulders, whooping and shouting, making them laugh. I saw the gentleness, the tenderness in his face as he watched my children, and I knew that he was a good man with a tragic story.

At first, I kept my distance, and apart from an occasional remark, he did not seem to want to talk to me. But on more