Estelle Dubois
Director of the Werner-Waysmith art gallery
Jean Lambert
Solicitor with an office in Saint-Paul-de-Vence
Alice Carling
His secretary
Harlan Scott
A private investigator
Hector Brunelle
A pharmacist in Nice
Dr Benson
A Harley Street doctor
ONE
London, 1955
The rain was lashing down, cold, grey rain that slicked the pavements, hammered at the windows and spat into ever-widening puddles. Rain dripped out of guttering and penetrated the brickwork. It felt as if it had rained all of May, and although June was just around the corner, there was no escaping it. Everyone was in a bad mood as they scurried along the pavements, still in their winter coats. The summer should have arrived by now, but it was as if the rain had beaten it back.
Atticus Pünd made his way down Harley Street, his hands in his pockets, drawing his trench coat closer to his body, trying to keep out the rain. It was a journey he had made several times since the shock of his diagnosis six weeks ago, and he was surprised how quickly everything had become familiar to him, even the certainty of his own death.