Florence bit her lip, willing herself not to cry.
‘Come here. Let me look at you.’
Florence walked towards her, blinking like a fool. She knew she was going to cry, and she so did not want to.
The woman reached for her, and they stood holding hands but saying nothing. Mr Macmillan and Jack motionless, watching.
‘Gerry tells me you have a message from my sister.’
Florence nodded and at last found her voice. ‘Yes, I—’
Rosalie shook her head. ‘Wait. Marie, could you bring us some tea and cake? I think we all need to sit down and get over the shock of all this. And it’s getting a bit warm out here, so we’ll make ourselves comfortable inside. Please, follow me.’
They went into a sitting room. Florence couldn’t keep her eyes off Rosalie, who now sat down very upright in a hard-backed chair. Florence and Jack chose to sit together on one of two sofas and Mr Macmillan crossed his legs as he settled into a large armchair.
‘This was Addison’s Darnell’s apartment,’ Rosalie said. ‘He was my husband’s uncle and a wonderful man.’ She glanced around. ‘I still feel him here. Do you ever feel like that, Florence?’
‘Like the people who’ve gone are still around?’
‘Yes.’
‘I do. I used to feel it most in the Dordogne.’
Rosalie smiled. ‘Me too, especially on the river.’
‘Oh yes.’
‘I think we may have a few things in common, Florence. Well, it was Addison who left this beautiful old palace to me. Bobby had an apartment on the floor below but eventually I moved up here. It was easier once I started work again. Gerry and I are planning our third volume of Addison’s pictures and writings. He was a well-known artist, you see.’
‘Your aunt is a wonderful collator and editor,’ Gerry said. ‘In fact, you’ve only just caught us.’
‘Really?’
‘We’re due to sail for England in a couple of days,’ Rosalie said. ‘I had hoped to go before this, but my passport …’
Gerry laughed. ‘Don’t you mean your passports?’
‘Indeed. Both my passports were out of date. But in the end, we got it sorted and I shall be travelling under my real name once again. Gerry came over from London to help pack up Addison’s work.’
Marie brought in a tray of tea things then went back to fetch a plate of chocolate eclairs.
Rosalie poured the tea and handed out the cups and saucers. ‘Please take a plate and help yourselves to an eclair or two.’
There was a momentary pause.
‘And what about you, Mr Jackson?’ Rosalie asked.
‘Please call me Jack.’
‘Of course. Are you here to accompany Florence?’
‘I’m a restoration architect and lending a hand on a project here, but I also came to help Florence find you.’
After they’d eaten the delicious eclairs and were sipping their tea, Florence saw Rosalie take a deep breath as if collecting herself.
‘My sister is unwell?’ she asked.
‘She has incurable cancer.’
