‘I know.’ Poppy spoke to her cup. Her face was distressed. ‘I know, I know... I just thought that if I told you—’
‘That I’d be hurt? Jealous? Pop, I’m so... so happy for you…’ Her words faded as she looked at Poppy’s face.
‘It’s over. He’s gone.’ Poppy was looking directly at her now and her face was like a stone.
Audrey reached for her hand across the table and Poppy clasped it with a gentle squeeze. ‘I’m here, darling. Now tell me.’
She’d heard Poppy mention the name Didier several times in past months, but it had been in the company of other names—a group of friends who gathered regularly in the Parisian club scene.
In phone conversations more recently, Audrey had an inkling that her friend was slowing down, was becoming tired of the constant partying—fewer names had been mentioned
