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'Sorry?'
'I haven't seen you before. Where are you from?'
Marguerite paused. 'I'm working here,' she said.
'Working where?'
'In Saint-Sulpice.'
The woman narrowed her eyes, contemplating her. Then she smiled, a little wryly. 'You're JérÔme Lanvier's new nurse, am I right?'
'Yes.'
'I could tell instantly. You're from Paris?'
'Yes.'
'I knew that accent. Well, you must find it rather different here.'
'Not so different from other places I've worked.'
The woman reached a hand out to shake Marguerite's; she had long nails painted a dark, shiny aubergine. 'I'm Suki. Very good to meet you. How do you like Rossignol?'
'It's comfortable.'
'And Lanvier himself?'
'Fine.'
'That's good. And your name ... ?'
'Marguerite.'
'Well, as I said, it's good to meet you.' She smiled again. 'Enjoy your books, Marguerite.'
When she left the library, Marguerite stood for a moment to study the noticeboard on the wall outside, to delay the long walk home. A sign for a missing cat, a pamphlet listing a course of dance classes for the previous June, and a notice advertising a babysitter, with the phone number printed several times for people to tear off. Only two had been torn.
Excerpted from Marguerite by Marina Kemp. Copyright © 2020 by Marina Kemp. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
A library is thought in cold storage
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