Lucy could see Diane’s clear dislike of her, the foster background she had come from, and the single mysterious episode with the police that had inflamed the gossips from all the corners of town. “Quite on my own,” she said. ‘Oh, my God, Melusine, what have I done?’ Melusine shook her head. If I had never met anything of you at all but a scrap of your skin binding a book, Ann Veronica, I know I would have kept that somewhere near to me. It reminded her of one of the old tales her mother Marina had told her about a sculptor named Farhat. Two shots were fired, and presently the clashing of swords was heard below.
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