Millie took a step toward the bed, thinking to check if the man was still alive when a fist closed around her upper arm. ‘John?’ asked the smaller...man in a French accent. ‘It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you, Millie. So this is where you hidden yourself away?’ said the larger and stockier man. ‘You’re hurting me!’ John loosened his grip but kept his fingers wrapped around her arm. He smiled down at her, waiting for her to turn her head and face him. ‘It seems you’ve a good thing going for. It is over a decade before I met you. I am sitting on the floor at home,occupied with a birthday gift. I can't now remember what it was, or whoit was from, but it is taking up my time in a pleasant, congenial way andin any case the details are not important to this story. It is the firstof September, a Sunday afternoon, and I have just turned twelve yearsold. My mother - elegant, absorbed - is sitting at the living room tableworking with her sewing machine.Our house is airy and bright on. More

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