48.
When the intercom rings, it’s the apocalypse. I’m not ready! One hour is really too short. My hair is still damp, and my brushing failed. The make-up is so discreet that you don’t see it and from a clothing point of view, I went for the simplest. I put on my old, shapeless jeans and Rosie lent me a little black sweater. Basically, I’m light years away from the woman he met yesterday. Rosie wants to be optimistic. Of course, she’s less dazzled than she was when she saw me at the police station, but the result isn’t so bad, according to her. I spray myself with perfume when I hear Damien’s voice echoing over the intercom. A flush of heat came over me. “Yes!” cries Rosie. “It’s Mr Tavene.” “Yes, Damien, Maddie’s coming.” “Won’t you let him in?” I ask her when she hangs up the wall receiv
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