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.