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tears.
    ‘Gabriel, come over. I’ve finished.’
    He lay on his bed, emaciated because, ever since his fatal promise, he had stopped eating anything other than mahogany, which is hardly nourishing. The only thing leftof the wardrobe was the imprint of its feet on the dusty floor and the huge oblong of darker wallpaper.
    ‘It tasted good, you know …’
    Those had been his last words. His gaunt hand, lying clenched on his chest, had unfurled like a flower and a key had fallen from his palm.
     
    It was just about the only thing that Gabriel had kept from his former life – a key that would never open, or close, another door. He always kept it on him, deep in his pocket. It matched his body temperature: burning or freezing. He told himself that one day he would give it away or even lose it and that somebody else would find it, as that is what happened to things. They passed from person to person.
    It wasn’t far to the Faro, the same short distance as from Madeleine’s house to the antique shop. The town was so small. The café was open. José was reading the newspaper. Behind him, wedged in a corner among some bottles, was the panda, its arms outstretched. A couple sat at one of the tables. José looked up. Because of the cigarette clamped in his mouth, you couldn’t tell if he was smiling or grimacing. Perhaps both. He sighed, blinked, stubbed out his cigarette and dragged himself wearily over to the counter. He hesitated then shook Gabriel’s outstretched hand, holding on to it for longer than normal.
    ‘The usual?’
    ‘A beer, thanks.’
    José’s beard had grown. Apart from the panda’s determined grin, the two still looked uncannily alike.
    ‘Well, I couldn’t leave it out there for the dustmen totake away, could I? It’s not doing any harm in the corner there, is it?’
    ‘No, it’s very welcoming.’
    ‘Yes, it’ll cheer up customers. It hasn’t had any effect on those two though.’
    José jerked his heavily stubbled chin towards the couple.
    ‘They look half drowned. And it’s not even raining.’
    The man and woman sat opposite one another with their arms folded. They leant over two empty coffee cups, their foreheads nearly touching, looking like two bookends on an empty bookshelf. The man was well into his forties. His face was angular and gaunt with deep-set eyes, hollow cheeks and nostrils. His greasy hair was swept back off his face and curled on his coat collar. The woman had her back to Gabriel, but he could see a little of her face in the mirror. She looked disreputable; a dusting of white powder coated her blotches, spots and wrinkles. She resembled a cake that had been left for too long in a shop window. She seemed roughly the same age as her companion. They both had the same mouth. Fleshy, sensual blood-red bee-stung lips. They must have kissed a lot. They weren’t talking. They were just watching and absorbing one another, oblivious to the world. At the man’s feet sat a dented instrument case. A saxophone, perhaps?
    José gave the counter a quick wipe and snapped the cloth.
    ‘They’ve been here for an hour. They’re not even talking to each other. Listen, I’m sorry about last night. I was drunk.’
    ‘Don’t worry about it. How’s Marie?’
    ‘The same. A green line going up and down on a screen. Oh, by the way …’ José paused.
    ‘What?’
    ‘I’m going to see the kids tomorrow. Do you want to come along with me? I don’t feel like going on my own.’
    ‘Of course, I’d be happy to.’
    ‘Thanks. I don’t know what to say to them. They’re only little. I should buy them a present as well … Excuse me. Yes, what can I get you?’
    The man was sitting up, his hand raised like a schoolchild’s.
    ‘Do you have any peanuts?’
    ‘No, I don’t.’
    ‘Oh … shame.’
    Gabriel took a packet out of his pocket. He had bought two bags from a corner shop after leaving Madeleine’s flat. The peanuts he’d had at hers had given him a taste for them. You should